Once again, I’ve found myself taking a brief respite from the blog world. I, again, have felt as though I’ve nothing to say. I haven’t been inspired to share anything with anyone. There hasn’t been much time to sit down and write either. I miss writing.
It’s surprising to me how inarticulate I am. I’m a relatively well educated young woman, I read a lot, I know a lot of words, and yet my ability to express my self is shockingly poor. Especially when I’m talking to people, my mind moves more quickly than my mouth and my words end up in a jumbled tangled mess. Or they combine themselves into new and exciting words or phrases which, more often than not, make no sense whatsoever.
I’m sitting in Powell’s right now, having decided to give up on being productive and am seeking solace in the air conditioning. I’m not really sure what made us (my roommates and I) decide to move during the hottest month of the year, but here we are, in the middle of a heat wave attempting to move all of our stuff into a loft apartment in a 100 year old house. However, I did find some strapping young men willing to move all of my books for me. All eight boxes. Thanks so much Barber twins! Plus I got to spend the day with them, which always makes for an interesting and laugh filled day.
I’m tired, Interweb, I’m so tired. I don’t know if it is the heat, the move, the insomnia or everything else. I don’t even know. A dear friend’s mother passed on Saturday after battling breast cancer for years and I just feel so helpless. I can’t even explain it. I’m usually a pretty astute empathizer, but I just can’t imagine how awful it would be to lose a parent. It seems like it would be a paradigm shift, no matter what your parents are always there, and then in an instant one is gone forever? But not really an instant with a disease like breast cancer. Instead you are forced to watch their slow and painful descent into death.
It was bad enough watching the affect Parkinson’s had on my grandfather. My grandfather whom I always felt the purest degree of love, who taught me life could be made tolerable and joyous by saying the right words, who taught me the subtle ways of wit and sarcasm, who had such life shining out of his eyes. It was awful to see him fall into the state of being wherein the least amount of life was left in his body for it’s maintenance, to see that once luminous, generous personality cruelly inverted to a confused, lost doppleganger who didn’t even recognize me.
But to lose your mother? How do you cope with that?