Every Other Season…

Some days I have a nagging feeling like I have forgotten something. Something is missing and nags like the last part of a scab from a scraped knee.

The wound is almost completely healed; the scab is close to coming off on its own; I don’t always notice it, but when I do, the scab nags at me to pick at it and force the spot to revert to how my knee was before I fell. I make it bleed again, but the wound doesn’t hurt like when I fell. I had a lot of scraped knees and elbows as a child, and my mom warned me every time she caught me picking at the scabs, “If you don’t leave it alone, it will leave a scar!”

Picking at scabs. Trying to force the wound to heal before it’s ready. Wounds heal with or without a scar, but the spot cannot return to what it was before the injury. Like the saying, “You can never step in the same river twice.” New cells have replaced the old. It simply will never be exactly the same. Sometimes old wounds nag on their own without a scar as a visual reminder, but now and then an unexpected cue triggers a memory.

The nagging brings to mind Doctor Who, “The Big Bang”. The episode first aired on 26 June 2010, and nearly a decade later, I understand why Amy Pond made an imprint on my heart with the nagging that someONE, not something, was missing at her wedding reception.

RORY: Amy? You okay?
AMY: Yeah, I’m fine.
RORY: Right. Er, you’re crying.
AMY: So I am. Why am I doing that?
RORY: Because you’re happy, probably. Happy Mrs Rory. Happy, happy, happy.
AMY: No, I’m sad. I’m really, really sad.
RORY: Great.
AMY: Why am I sad?

……………..

AMY: Sorry, but shut up, please. There’s someone missing. Someone important. Someone so, so important.
RORY: Amy, what’s wrong?
AMY: Sorry. Sorry, everyone. But when I was a kid, I had an imaginary friend… The raggedy Doctor. My raggedy Doctor. But he wasn’t imaginary, he was real… I remember you. I remember! I brought the others back, I can bring you home, too. Raggedy man, I remember you, and you are late for my wedding!
(The glasses start rattling, very gently.)
AMY: I found you. I found you in words, like you knew I would. That’s why you told me the story the brand new, ancient blue box.
(A strong wind blows the balloons around.)
AMY: Oh, clever. Very clever.
RORY: Amy, what is it?
AMY: Something old. Something new. Something borrowed. Something blue.
(The Tardis materialises in the middle of the room.)
RORY: It’s the Doctor. How did we forget the Doctor? I was plastic. He was the stripper at my stag. Long story.
(Amy knocks on the Tardis door.)
AMY: Okay, Doctor. Did I surprise you this time?
(The Doctor appears in top hat and tails.)

The Doctor Who Transcripts

The day I started writing this post (Monday, 16 September 2019), I was out of sorts because of the nagging of something I couldn’t place, but I went about my day, figuring it would reveal itself like when you bite the inside of your cheek a second day in a row… I was chewing on saved voicemails, trying to clean up my mailbox when I bit my cheek.

“Hi, Eileen… it’s Mom… … …”

This was the first time I heard her voice in nine months. The last time Mommy and I spoke to each other was 5 December 2018 while I packed for a business trip, and she spoke her last clear words to me. I am grateful that I have that memory to hold and to comfort me, that I know the exact date on which I last heard her voice in conversation and not a recording. That night she collapsed at home and was hospitalized, but I didn’t get the news immediately because I had gone to India. [I’ll get back to this part of the story in India another time as a part of a related topic. I didn’t get an international plan for my phone, so I relied on Facebook messenger to stay in touch while I was traveling.]

When I returned from the trip and went to be with my parents, Mommy was still intubated, and when she passed a breathing test a couple days later, she could barely whisper. I’ll gloss over all of the details of the following days and skip to my point – when she was moved to a hospice room, Mommy wasn’t even trying to whisper anymore.

“Sometimes it is a great joy just to listen to someone we love talking.”

– Vincent McNabb

Words of kindness. Words of love. I know the importance of making sure that parting words I say to my loved ones are kind and loving because I don’t know if that is going to be our final conversation.

Forrest Gump : [narrating]  If I’d a known that was the last time I was gonna talk to Bubba, I would’ve thought of something better to say.
Forrest Gump : Hi Bubba.
Bubba : Hey Forrest.

– Forrest Gump (1994)

Today is Thursday, 17 October 2019. It’s taken me a month to get back and finish this post, which is bittersweetly amusing to me because today I’m feeling out of sorts again. Part of it is because of a disturbance in my daily routine – I’m not totally Rain Man when it comes to routine, but the part of my day that’s dedicated to writing is most often like the Kafka quote I posted on Instagram earlier this week. The other part is next week it will be ten months since Mommy died.

I feel like I’m in the lead car on the Rebel Yell at King’s Dominion, hanging over the first hill while waiting for the last car to reach the summit before we plummet. (Hahaha unintentional rhyme time!) In reality, the hill is Halloween.

My family has already gone through birthdays and holidays without calls and greeting cards from my mom, and she never missed sending Halloween cards to my Keets. I don’t know if anyone else feels like Halloween kicks off the holiday season, but that’s how it is in Leenie Land. And right now, I feel a lump in my throat while I think about the major holidays coming up, the first trifecta of Thanksgiving Christmas, and New Year’s with out my mom, who died on Festivus… 😉

I’ve spent ten months trying to leave the scab alone… … …

“Every other season comes along and I’m all right,
but then I miss you most at Christmas time.”

– Mariah Carey, Miss You Most (At Christmas Time)

“Grief changes shape, but it never ends.”

– Keanu Reeves

Luceat lux vestra.