Gratitude

Image by Eric

1. Morning walks. We have been seeing lots of baby deer and the other day we saw something we hadn’t seen in a few years: a mama racoon and her four babies.

2. Spending those final days with Mom. I can’t say that her passing was entirely peaceful. In fact, there were moments that were hard to be with, ones that I’d call traumatic even. And still, I’m glad I was there with her. I’m also grateful it’s over. There’s a reason they refer to dementia as “the long goodbye.” You lose parts of a person, bit by bit, over time. I’m glad she doesn’t have to exist in that tired, broken body anymore. I’m also glad that even with dementia, she never forgot who we were. AND, I miss my mom like crazy and my heart is broken. I’m grateful for the family and friends who sat with me, for my brother and cousin who let me stay with them when I wasn’t with Mom, for those who cared for Mom in all the practical ways, for the animals that offered their companionship and comfort, and especially for my brother, the only one really and fully in it with me in a way no one else could or would understand.

3. Good food. Other than sit in that chair next to Mom, the main things I did were sleep and eat. There was lots of good food while I was there: marionberry scones from Great Harvest, a marionberry pie made by my “Auntie T,” Love Love Teriyaki, that sandwich from Acme Cafe I can’t stop thinking about, the meals at Thompson’s with Annie and Chris, that night I had “dinner” at Dairy Queen, and the obligatory stops at Carl’s Jr and Burgerville.

4. Dana, my masseuse for the past ten years. She was able to fit me in to her already packed schedule yesterday and as it turns out, it may be my last massage with her. She got a new job as a school counselor that starts in August. It wasn’t a surprise, as she’d been working on her Master’s degree the past two years, but it is a huge loss for me as she has been both magic and medicine for my heart and body all these years. I didn’t know going into our appointment yesterday it might be our last, so am glad I had already bought her some bread from The Bread Chic to go with the marionberry jam I brought for her and had written a card telling her how much I appreciate her.

5. Mom and Dad’s house listed and sold. After only three showings and four days on the market, we accepted a full price offer. As with everything else, it was both a relief and so sad. My brother worked SO HARD to get it ready and it turned out so nice, I’m not surprised it went so fast. Mom passed only a few days later, like she knew somehow she couldn’t go back to this house, so it was time to go home. Some of my worst memories happened in this house, some of my hardest moments, but there’s also a part of me that is going to miss it because there would good memories too and it was the last place my parents lived together.

Lia, for scale 🙂

6. My tiny family, small house, little life. This is it now, my one and only home. Even if you never intended to, knowing you could always go home, return to that place and those people…losing that option is so sad. Rooted and solid and satisfied as I am here, I still feel a bit adrift, untethered. AND it is still true that there’s no place I’d rather be than here with them. Poor Ringo has a wonky belly, his first in a while, and I’m pretty sure it’s a combination of the stress of our trip to Oregon and me leaving for nine days after we were only back for a week. He’s been sticking right by me ever since I returned.

Bonus joy: listening to podcasts, sleeping in my own bed, getting in the pool, using the sauna and massage chair, cards in the mail, getting to hug Chloe’, a/c, not too many mosquitoes, more water in the river, blooper reels, comedy, poetry, watching TV shows and movies that are “easy,” not having to look out my front window and see my old neighbor’s political flags anymore, other people’s gardens, the Farmer’s Market, small flower farms, baby racoons, cinnamon swirl bread toasted with butter, leftover pizza, our air fryer, our new patio furniture, stickers, cherries, animal cookies, onion poppy seed buns, breakfast burritos, a big glass of cold clean water, Ringo’s care team, both the cute and the sassy things he does, hearing from people who used to work with Mom, texting with Chris, the sweetest mail from Kelly’s mom Susan, my favorite mugs, my favorite fork and spoon, a warm shower, curly hair, book club, Eric trying to spend less time on his phone, clean laundry, making each other laugh, reading in bed at night while Eric and Ringo sleep, having this blog to come back to.

6 thoughts on “Gratitude

  1. Kari's avatarKari

    Oh friend. So much of this touched my heart because I could relate to so much of what you wrote. The complicated mix of relief and heartbreak, the gratitude that they are no longer struggling, while also missing them so deeply… grief holds so many things at once.

    Your words about your mom and dad’s house especially resonated with me. There is something so emotional about a house holding so many memories — the painful ones, the beautiful ones, and the feeling that you are letting go of one of the last physical connections to a chapter of your life.

    And I have to say, the part about Dana really stood out to me too. Losing a massage therapist who has cared for your body and your heart for ten years is such a loss, especially during this season of your life. There is something so special about someone who has been a safe place for you. Also, the fact that while you were walking through this incredible grief, you were still thinking about bringing her bread and jam and writing her a card says so much about who you are.

    I’m so glad you had your brother, your family, your friends, and all those little comforts that carried you through. As always, I love that you end with the little (not little) things — your favorite mug, your favorite fork and spoon, Ringo, your home, your routines. Those tiny pieces of ordinary life are sometimes what help us find our way back.

    Sending you so much love. 💜

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  2. Melanie R's avatarMelanie R

    This post holds so much, Jill. I read it twice: slowly, the second time, to absorb it more fully. I can’t pretend to know how much you miss your mother as I still have mine, but I have lost my father and my oldest son, so it’s not like I’m a stranger to grief. The grief journey is a wild ride and definitely ebbs and flows, without rhyme or reason sometimes. Let yourself feel every bit of it, as painful as it may be. It’s all part of the healing process. You have also lost your childhood home, and that brings a lot of complicated emotions with it, too.

    I’m glad you have your brother to talk to and lean on through all of this. My sister is estranged from our family, so when my mom does pass, it’ll be extra hard not having her to talk to and share memories with. I’ll also be soley responsible for cleaning out my mom’s house, which is another story altogether.

    I love your collection of vintage brass animals on your altar.

    Much love to you.

    Reply
  3. jillsalahub's avatarjillsalahub Post author

    Thank you, Melanie. ❤ It wasn’t actually the house I grew up in, in fact I never lived there for any amount of time, but it was where Mom and Dad lived for the past 20 years. And I know just how lucky I am to have my brother, and him me. I can’t imagine going through this without him. I’m so sorry you don’t have that. That collection of animals on my meditation shrine: each one represents someone I’ve lost. ❤

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