The Music of Pain

Music has a way of reaching inside me and pulling out emotions that I can't express. Heart-tugging chords echo the sounds of my life. Song lyrics express the words that I want to speak or write, but just can't compose. If you love music, if you are in any way moved by it, you may understand. The other night driving to the hospital I was moved to tears by two or three songs that seemed to say what I was feeling inside. When there are no words, for me there is a song. It was a song that inspired the name for this blog and I'll share the full lyrics here, though a small portion of them appear in the sidebar. The song is called "Beauty from Pain," by the Superchicks and has a beautifully haunting melody to deliver the lyrics.

Beauty From Pain- by Superchicks

The lights go out all around me
One last candle to keep out the night
And then the darkness surrounds me
I know I'm alive
But I feel like I died
And all that's left is to accept that it's over
My dreams ran like sand through the fists that I made
I try to keep warm but I just grow colder
I feel like I'm slipping away

After all this has passed
I still will remain
After I've cried my last
There'll be beauty from pain
Though it won't be today
Someday I'll hope again
And there'll be beauty from pain
You will bring beauty from my pain

My whole world is the pain inside me
The best I can do is just get through the day
When life before is only a memory
I wonder why God lets me walk through this place
And though I can't understand why this happened
I know that I will when I look back someday
And see how you've brought beauty from ashes
And made me as gold purified through these flames

After all this has passed
I still will remain
After I've cried my last
There'll be beauty from pain
Though it won't be today
Someday I'll hope again
And there'll be beauty from pain
You will bring beauty from my pain

Here I am at the end of me
Trying to hold to what I can't see
I forgot how to hope
This night's been so long
I cling to your promise
There will be a dawn

After all this has passed
I still will remain
After I've cried my last
There'll be beauty from pain
Though it won't be today
Someday I'll hope again
And there'll be beauty from pain
You will bring beauty from my pain

Missing Mom

It hits at the strangest times, as I'm sure any of you who have lost a loved one (either physically or emotionally) can attest.  Today I nearly burst into tears in the middle of a store over some dish towels. There were red and white with hearts for Valentine's day and I wanted to buy them because my oldest daughter always gets so excited at seasonal towels. She loves the various hand towels that appear for each holiday in my mom's downstairs bathroom. They weren't really expensive, but definitely a luxury and since I'm trying to be careful about money, I didn't buy them. But I was suddenly struck by the thought that Mom would have bought something like that for me, for my daughter, just because she could and she knew it would make us happy and smile to have Valentine's towels of our own. Then and there in the line waiting to pay for my purchase, I nearly broke down sobbing.

I miss my mom so much, it's crazy. I remember how often she used to drive me nuts and I'd want to ignore her 37 calls and 52 e-mails each day. Now I'd give anything to see her address pop up in my in-box or hear her cheery ring on my cell phone. I want to talk to her, and I can't. Honestly, I think if she were dead I'd talk to her all the time now and just hope she could hear me up in heaven, crazy or not. Now, though, I walk into her hospital room and everything I want to say dies on my lips. I see her lying there and wonder if she can hear me, sense my mood, know what I'm feeling by how I act, and I can't bear the thought of dragging her down, discouraging her, frustrating her. What if I started crying in front of her and she could hear me but couldn't respond? How distressed would I be in that situation!!! I just can't do that to her.

I say that my mom used to drive me nuts and it's true. The truth is though, for all her quirks, all the things that drove me crazy, all the times I wanted to yell at her (or did yell at her), all her faults, all the things that I swore I'd never do to my kids, all those times I thought life would be easier if I moved across the country from her, my mom really was one of my best friends. Maybe I didn't see it that way, maybe I didn't even realize it, but she was. I could talk to her about most anything, enjoyed a lot of the same activities, and shared a good number of her strengths and faults. In many ways she encouraged me and was my mentor. I may not have admitted it, but in many ways I wanted to be like my mom. Now that everything has happened, I realize all this. How blind we are to what we have at the time.

So much of my life is tied to my mom. It's natural of course, but even worse because I live 10 minutes from my childhood home. So many memories. Sitting in the food court at the mall I remembered sitting there with her and the girls. Passing various stores I remembered the grand hunt for the perfect outfit and accessories for her, myself, and my girls for my brother's wedding. Sitting in church I see the flowers up front and think of the hundreds of arrangements she did for them. Cooking in her kitchen, sitting at her place at the table, I remember the hundreds of meals she cooked and served. There are thousands of memories because I walk where she walked, live in the area where she lived, was a close part of her life.

The problem is that when life gets tough, when I want to hole up and hide, when I want to scream at my kids, chuck shoes at my husband, curl up in a ball and cry, when I want to just vent to someone who I know will love me no matter what I do, I automatically think of my mom now. After all, she's never the one vexing me these days. But she's not there, not available, not able to listen, and hold me, and talk and pray for me and encourage me in the way that only a mother can...and it breaks my heart and leaves me feeling raw and miserable. I can't even write this entry without crying. No one can replace her. No one can be her. I just want my mom back, I just want her back.

The Guilt

I think most people struggle with guilt at some point, be it real or imagined. As a child I had an overactive conscious, which often led to feelings of guilt that didn't really belong...something that was pointed out to me later in life. Though I'm certainly more aware of these feelings of false guilt now, it doesn't mean that I don't struggle with it any less, especially now. In fact these days my life seems riddled with feelings of guilt about things that I can't really control. Probably at the top of the list is feeling guilty for not spending more time with my mom at the hospital...never mind that I have three small children, one a newborn who can't even visit and one who's been sick for three weeks now, I still feel horrible about it. I feel guilty for not going to the hospital more often, and guilty for not spending long periods of time there. I feel guilty for running out of things to say to her some days (I'm reading her a book to try and help with this problem), and guilty for not finding more ways I can stimulate her. On the flip side I feel guilty for leaving my newborn as often as I have to go off to the hospital. I feel guilty for not helping Dad more and making him more meals (don't feel bad, Daddy, it isn't your fault), and I feel guilty for taking so long to get back to people via phone and e-mail, even though I barely have any free time at all these days. I feel guilty for not calling or writing my family with more regularl updates on Mom. I feel guilty any time I think about going out and having fun or shopping for something not absolutely necessary (like food or prescriptions etc), even when I genuinely need something (like jeans and slippers, my only pairs having holes). After all, if I'm going out, I should be visiting with Mom, right? The guilt is everywhere, in everything. Don't bother telling me I shouldn't feel guilty, I already know that. It doesn't mean that I'm not going to struggle with it.

Being Forgotten

I have been waiting for it and dreading it since the first week after my mom's accident, the day when everyone forgets. I don't mean that people will forget that it ever happened, but things will change. People will stop writing notes, stop visiting her, stop asking how we are, stop offering help, stop praying for her, for us, both in church and in their private prayers. It terrifies me, the thought that eventually we'll be alone in our sadness, in our suffering, in our struggle to maintain hope and a normal life. We will live every day with the consequences of the accident, but others will be free to move on with their lives, to no longer be so burdened by the shock, the horror, the sad thoughts. I understand that it is part of life, but it still scares me, makes me sad, seems unfair. We don't get to move on so why does everyone else?

The Weight

Sometimes in life there are things that hang over our heads, things we dread, things that haunt us, things we don't want to face. These things haunt us at night, fill us with anxiety when we awaken and burden us throughout the day. Guilt, fear, worry, may all play a part. I've experienced this the same as most people, but never like I do now. It is this burden, like a lead weight set on my shoulders, that dampens my spirits and makes me feel like I can never fully experience joy again this side of Heaven. Knowing that my mom is lying in that hospital bed, not responding in any willful way is the reality that I am now forced to live with every day. Sometimes I try to forget, but it is never for long. I hate that it seems to color my world in such a debilitating way. Fatigue, anxiety, frustration, anger, pain and all the other negative emotions or experiences seem worse because of it, whereas the positive experiences like joy, happiness, excitement, laughter etc all feel dampened by my sadness. Sometimes I break down and cry in desperation because I feel like the burden is so enormous, will never go away, and is just too much to bear. The Bible says that God will not give us more than we can bear, but in my darkest moments I don't feel like I believe that. I feel like God has asked too much of me, too much of all of us. 

Most people experience tragedy and then are allowed to slowly and painfully move on with their lives. Things are never the same, but eventually the pain is less and the healing can take place. This isn't the case for me, for us. We're caught in this never ending vortex of tragedy and for the foreseeable future, it isn't going away. There isn't an ending point. We are perpetually caught up in our tragedy, which for now has no end and that is a heavy burden to carry day after day after day. Is it any wonder that I question my ability to make it through this experience, to bear up under the strain? What we wouldn't give for some relief.

Deceptive Appearances

Since the accident I can't say how many times people have said things to me like, "You look so good, " and "I can't believe how well you are doing," and "You are so strong!" I need to clarify something here and now. I am not strong, this is not easy and I am not doing well. Just because I am not dissolving into a puddle of tears at your feet does not mean that I am doing fine. You just don't happen to see the tears, the anger, the fear and the despair. When I have to talk about my mom, her condition, or the accident, my brain has a way of compartmentalizing things. It's like I switch from the emotional part of my brain to the factual, information part of my brain. This is a basic survival instinct. If I melted into tears every time I had to think or talk about this, I would be a wreck 98% of the time and unable to function normally. This is about survival.

If someone really wants to know how I'm doing, that's fine, but he or she needs to prepared for the honest truth in words, not for me to break down crying if I'm not doing okay. I am just not the kind of person who cries in front of any and everyone. In fact that probably characterizes most of the members of my family. We may look fine on the outside, but inside our hearts feel like they've been mashed into a million pieces, which are bleeding all over the place. This experience is brutal and ongoing and not something we are going to be okay with possibly ever, let alone a short amount of time. Yes I may speak calmly, yes I may smile, yes I may even laugh but inside I am just a scared little girl crying for her mommy.

New Year's Resolutions

I'm sure many people all over the world today are making New Year's resolutions. Items like, "lose weight," and "eat better," and "spend less/save more," and "be a better person" seem to top many lists. With all the complications in my life right now, making resolutions like these are the last thing on my mind, however on the way home from the hospital this afternoon I got to thinking about the things I would try (resolve is too strong a word) to do this year.

First and Foremost I will just try to survive the year. It may sound trite, but in my life right now, it's important. I will try to be honest on this blog so that others can understand what living with Mom in a coma is like. I will try to keep my children visiting their Nana, talking to them about her and showing them pictures so that their memories of her before the accident won't fade. I will keep trying to hope even when all hope seems gone. This will be hard, but I will try.