I continue to have to force myself to write on this blog. My heavy heart these days just doesn't seem to go well with lighthearted blog fare. But as any writer will tell you or me, you've gotta keep writing anyway. Just GET IT OUT, as Hannah always says --vomit it up onto the page and worry about what it looks like later. Lovely image, isn't it?
But the idea is a good one. I sometimes have a hard time writing about the heavier side of life, the darker side of my brain, as if my job is to amuse and uplift, instead of just to write. Why I feel this way, in my writing and in my relationships, is perhaps a good question for another day. Right now I just need to write.
Sharon's funeral last Saturday was a heart-wrenchingly, heart-breakingly sad affair. The minister was Ok, although I definitely felt there was too much emphasis on God, on Jesus and on what he wants or what he means. But thankfully there was also plenty of emphasis on Sharon, on who she was and what she means, which offset the god stuff in a very positive way.
The family had sent an email around inviting anyone who wanted to talk about Sharon at the service to prepare something and let them know. I couldn't imagine how anyone could do that, honestly. So at the service when I saw her daughter Laura stand up, cross before Sharon's flower-draped coffin and head to the alter, the very first one to speak, I was astonished and amazed.
That 18-year-old girl gave her mother the most wonderful eulogy -- she got through the entire thing without falling apart, and she did her very strong and loving mother proud. She finished by telling us how at the end she asked Sharon if she was scared, and Sharon responded, "No, are you?" When Laura said yes, Sharon asked her what she was afraid of. Laura said, "I'm scared because you're my mommy and I need you." And Sharon told her, "No you don't. You'll be just fine."
That is exactly what Laura needed to hear, that she was strong enough to handle this and would indeed be just fine. Sharon gave her that one final gift, the confidence to go it alone. To survive the incredible grief of losing her mother and go off to college and be fine. Sharon was so brave and smart and such a wonderful mother, right to the very end.
Maddie left for a month of summer camp on Sunday, and I had a particularly difficult time letting her go. She loves camp and I know she'll be fine (as long as she doesn't get too involved with any of the boys!) but when I think about how short Sharon's illness was, a month seems like an awfully long time to let your child -- and youngest child -- go.
Since then things have been pretty quiet around here. My work clients have been otherwise occupied and not in need of my services so I've had some time to catch up, get organized and work on my own writing. I've had fun compiling quotations as headings for each of my chapters, and I've continued with the actual story.
I had coffee with another local writer who I met through a neighbor, and she invited me to join her writers' group in DC, as well as form another one with her here in Northern Virginia. She attended a publishers conference in NYC this summer and pitched her book, and several agents want to see the first three chapters. She now wants to rework the whole thing before sending it to them.
That prompted me to go back and read my story, which I found full of gaps in what's driving my character. I know her so well I have to remember that my readers do not. So I've added some more stuff about her background, thoughts and motivations, and plan to add even more. But I am the queen of rewriting and have to force myself to also just get the story down and keep moving FORWARD.
I leave next week for a sojourn in the northeast: driving first to Rhode Island for a short visit with my old pal (since high school!) Denise, then driving to Vermont with my old pal (since grammar school!) Meg, to stay with my other old pal (and Meg's sister) Nanci, who rented a big cool farmhouse for a month while home from Cairo, where she lives. Then back to RI to visit my mom and the rest of the Beauregard clan for a few days, then driving to the farm in New York for a week of quiet R & R, and hopefully lots of writing.
Oh, and a milestone this week: I played my first round of 18 holes of golf, albeit very very badly. I played nine holes last Sunday and another nine Tuesday night, so with the 18 on Wednesday I played 36 holes in one week -- woo hoo! I totally, embarassingly STINK but I just LOVE the game, even though it makes you want to kill yourself 90% of the time. Hitting a great shot is like a drug -- once you experience it you want so so bad to get that feeling back again. And hitting dirtball after dirtball makes you question your entire worth as a person and purpose on this earth, truly.
Ok, as you can see, when I titled this post a ramble, I meant it. But I think it has served its purpose. Time to get back in the saddle and on with the job at hand -- life, for one thing, and the writing life, for another. Time to buck up and get the work done. Happy trails.
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3 comments:
" hitting dirtball after dirtball makes you question your entire worth as a person and purpose on this earth, truly."
Really? I must be missing the spiritual part of golf because mis-hitting time after time conjures up no such feelings for me. I just get ticked off!
I had the very same reaction about Sharon's funeral and the repeated reference to Jesus. In fact I commented out loud to my partner. I thought we were all there to celebrate Sharon's life and since She did not strike me as someone who was religious in the traditional sense I felt as if the minister was using that forum as an opportunity to preach the ways of the church. I too was relieved [and saddened] when others stood up to speak about Sharons life. When the college roommate spoke I found my mind wandering to what I would say about you! Hmmmmmmmmm.
This funeral ignited a discussion I had last night about weather Sharon was involved in the arrangements for her funeral. I said that if I was dying I thought I would spend all of my energy talking to those family members [and maybe friends] who I was leaving behind. I would want to help them accept the idea that I would be gone from their lives but try to pass on what I had learned from my experiences what was important. If I could I would want to write some of my thoughts down. What I wouldn't do [I said] was plan my funeral down to the songs being sung, flowers etc. I said the funeral again is for those left behind so they can have closure and say goodbye [publicly].
My friend disagreed and thought this was sort of selfish on my part..the idea that I would leave all the "arrangements" to my kids and loved ones.
I wonder about this still. IS it inconsiderate to not want to talk about your own funeral when your days are limited and you have so many other things to talk about? What do you think?
First of all, kidding about the golf, but only barely!
Second, I don't think it's selfish to not want to worry about the details of your funeral when you are dying, if that is not how you choose to spend your time. I'm sure the people who love you would be happy to take care of all that after you're gone.
And I for one would get up and say lots of REALLY nice things about you (laughing). Just please don't let it be anytime for the next, oh, 40 years or so, OK?
My dad planned his own funeral, and I probably will too. As I watched Sharon's I wondered if it really was what she had chosen. I think she was too sick and had too little time with her family to have spent much time on that, but I may be wrong.
My dad chose his own music and poetry readings. He even designed his own gravestone. He was a total control freak, and it pleased him to do this and know that it would go the way he'd like. I can understand this impulse, being somewhat of a control freak myself -- I know this revelation comes as a HUGE shock to you, ha ha.
I also would like to have some say in what kind of service is held for me after I die. For starters, none of that religion and god stuff, blech! Also, I'd want it upbeat and full of stories, hopefully mostly funny, about me and all the fun I had with the people I love.
Good music, good poetry, good food. Lots of pictures. As sad as the slide show about Sharon was, it was also beautiful and so important to see how many people loved her and -- even more important, I think -- how much she loved all of them.
So if you ever need to -- hopefully not for 40 years or so -- tell my family I wrote this all down, OK? And if you'd rather spend your time on other very important and meaningful things, I promise to make sure your service is really awesome and reflective of who you are too, Gin. And no god stuff!
My grandmother...who lived to be 90...made it very clear throughout her last several years what her favorite hymns were, her favorite Bible readings, which funeral home she preferred, and even at the end which was her favorite dress! It wasn't morbid; it was considerate. Because when you are overwhelmed by grief the last thing you want is to have to figure all that out.
Me, I want to be cremated and thrown in the ocean, and hope my son has some kind of memorial service...preferably pagan!
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