Tag Archives: cancer

Heart in a Box

1 Aug

I’m shy 16 days of 3 months since I wrote my last post.  Lots happens (& has happened) and yet time stands still within my mind.  I liked my last writing, the mostly dead crew, which is why I sit on it easily and let it run its course within me.  There is another reason in which I find solace within the moratorium of writing, at this particular juncture.  Perhaps it will resonate with some who have walked this same road upon which I trod, or who are presently walking alongside me.  It is the intentional act of stepping away from the loss, my loss.  You see much like loosing a spouse, loosing a child impairs the minute by minute interaction within each day.  And as such, grief is faced in every nook, hallway, tabletop, room, street, store, movie, etc.–the loss is constantly present, because the person who has left was at one time, completely enmeshed in all aspects of your (my) living. That said and knowing that life does not pause for the brokenhearted we scramble to find our way while facing the loss at every turn.

So, this past June I did something different…I put my heart in a box and stored it.

What the hell? Well metaphorically speaking, of course. I consciously decided to step aside from my grief and work on being in the moment of whatever the moment provided.  I consciously decided to disallow the lens of grief to magnify the circumstance.  And I gave a try at putting my heart in a box, closing the lid and storing upon a shelf for a while.  I must say, it has been working.

I went to Manhattan, NY this past June. While there I focused on wonder and joy. I took time off to be at home and reorganize closets.  In doing so I began to find new homes for some of my son’s clothing, joyful homes, compassionate homes. I took time to be with family and friends, not all, but some.  I took time to do things while tired and not let the fear of exhaustion rule the day. I took time with my daughter and husband.  I actually went to the beach with him once…it’s been a while since I’ve done that.

Bottom line, I took time to view living and its interactions through another lens. A lens of life, not my lens of grief.

I am moving into this next year (academic year) with intention of keeping my heart in a box for a while longer. I’m not sure how I’ll do.  I’m not sure for how long I can keep the lid secured. There have definitely been moments, this summer, when the lid seems to be popping off, but I’ve managed to catch it in motion and refasten before the full extent of my heartache is exposed. Why? Why go to all this trouble? Because I’d like to see what Rivka looks like without the veil of grief over her face. I’m just wondering, can I be whole when I’ve been cut in half? And what does that look like? Can you relate to this type of musing? If not, no worries. I’m quite comfortable being a lone wolf within introspective ideations.

There is also the possibility I might just change my mind on the subject and continue to swim upstream the rest of my days.  In any case I’ll keep you posted, especially since I’ve just paid for another year of domain usage. And who knows, perhaps the next post I write here on Bentrivka will be filled with wisdom and encouragement for the reader. I still believe in miracles, though I’m clearly not a miracle worker myself. But I think it safe for us to stay tuned and see what possibilities await.

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Mostly Dead

16 May

I live daily in smiles and gaiety, it be the nature of the job.  How do you do? Looking good! While trying my best not to snob.  It’s not the intent to go snobbery’s way though silence is often construed.  But giving a care when denying the quest of remembering the mostly dead crew.

Images hear I of spring.  Glorious season of change.  Rebirth, renounce, re-anything just simply reminders of pain.  To mourn a loss in person not so good for the socialite call.  Hence I write it all down, renounce with a frown and chase the blues to the ball.  Pardon me while I am bleeding, excuse the stink in my eye.  Oh how was your day?  Oh mine? It’s ok, notice ye not the piteous reply. Moving within the same madness, reflections all view the igual. No soy la que quire el platica, sino el silencio sensual. One need not worry their insight and think my soul inherently gloom but giving a care when denying the quest of remembering the mostly dead crew.

What meaneth here this nonsense?  Who need take the time to dispel?  Again worry ye not, the girl’s not gone to pot just know her heart’s in a swell.  Meandering down to the watering hole in knowing the questions do fly.  Barista not wanting to filter the irritable look in the eye.  Giveth me the drink I choose Bessie, ask me not the cordial reply.  Just leave me alone, drink my blackness down cold and a lemon loaf too on the fly.  Don’t worry your pretty head Bessie, Jack think not your joy now subdued.  But giving a care when denying the quest of remembering the mostly dead crew.

•√•

So I’m not really one who enjoys the abstract–not in art, nor music, nor prose.  But sometimes it just works, at least for the writer, in this case me.  The nonsensical lyrical presentation above is vehicle for the swirling of thoughts, the allowance to pull together the mushroom cloud and compact it to the location of its present state.  The idea is to “let a little of the air seep out of the balloon” of grief. The above writing is not reflected of the pure thoughts within me.  Not “pure” as in “clean.”  But pure as in my own.  The writing is muddled, influenced and therefore hiding.  After all, isn’t that what the abstract allows, obfuscation? Isn’t the above more fun to read, albeit perplexing, but more fun than finding this page and having me write: Hi, my name is Rivka and today sucks!  Quite frankly, if I am at the place where that statement is all I can say, I assure you I will remain silent.

Breaking it down:

Today is May 16, 2015.  The Bent 4 became the Bent 3 on May 17, 2013.  On May 16, 2013 I had dread upon my heart for what I perceived to be the failing health of my son.  On May 17, 2013 my perception proved true. None of these facts make me feel the better in writing them down.

Tomorrow, May 17 2015, my niece graduates with her undergrad degree and a dear friend of our family will wed.  Both celebratory occasions will occur without our physical presence though our hearts are joyously united to their happiness.  We, the Bent 3 are still not fully adjusted to our outcome.  So sorry to disappoint.  Actually, just as I wrote the sentence down I realized I am not sorry at all.  Sorry I’m not sorry.  I don’t mind that my sorrow offends, let it.  I don’t mind that I’m cloistered and blue, for giving a care is not my intent while remembering the mostly dead crew.

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Mail, First Class Stamp

22 Apr

Dear Cole,

Just now, when I was getting water from the refrigerator, I saw your picture.  The photo of you, Esther and I in the snow.  It was a Boy Scout adventure with myself and your sister as tag-alongs.  Oh hey, did I tell you your dad finally removed the safety bars he installed in your bathroom?  The ones for when you came home from the hospital?  Yep, he finally succumbed to my need to have them removed.  Funny thing though, now there are holes in the floor and the bathroom looks like something you would want to submit to a home improvement television show.

Oh, and today at work a really cool thing happened.  I’d like to call you and tell you about it, you’d be stoked.  And yesterday when I was driving down to San Diego, the Offspring song “Gone Away” came on and, well I tried to make it through the whole thing but I had makeup on…so, you know, I couldn’t have tears streaming down my face on my way into work!  Oh yeah, not to mention I was driving!!

Dear Cole,

Our little family canine mascot died this past week, Little Buddy.  Your dog, Piper, is feeling a bit alone.  In fact we found the entrails of a lizard outside the kitchen door this afternoon.  I guess without Buddy to play with she is resorting to reptilia.  Ok, ok, so I made up the word “reptilia,” but I thought you would think it sounded smart so I kept it in the letter. 🙂

Dear Cole,

Hey there, how’s it going?  Have you heard about us lately?  Has anyone told you your sister is getting to be quite an amazing young woman?  Can you see her from where you are?  I think if so, you are equally as amazed as I at her fortitude and applied wisdom.  I hope you are proud of her, she deserves it!  Oh hey, will you put in a good word for a loving companion for her?  Her heart is near ready for that void to be filled.

Dear Cole,

What do you think about your Dad?  He’s come a long way since you were a kid, heck since you were first diagnosed!  He’s sending his own email now.  He even is using an iPhone, running his Instagram (scaaaaarrrryyy!!) and managing his own business affairs for the most part.  In the last 6 months he’s built 2 new cars and had two art tours.  He still battles fear, but isn’t letting it make decisions for him anymore.  Believe it or not, you have been the indirect cause of his new found strength–thank you for that.  Well son, I need to get to bed now, 5a.m. comes upon me quickly.  I sure do miss you.  Oh, one more thing (for now), do you know that you no longer need to double space after a period?  Yep, English teachers are allowing a single space–I hear it’s MLA approved! Crazy!!  But I’m a bit of a creature of habit with the ol’ space bar, so only sometimes you get a single space out of me.  Ok, I’m heading to bed.  Hey Cole, are you happy where you live?  I sure do miss you.

I love you.

Mom

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