Passing Words
December 15th, 2007Despite the fact that I am not Catholic, I am going to start my first blog with a confession. I confess to being a procrastinator.
I have been avoiding writing on this blog for weeks now. Put it off to performance anxiety. Contrary to popular belief men aren’t the only ones to experience this.
For clarification purposes, I want to point out that I did not jump into the blogisphere, set up my blog and then chicken out. My very own daughter set me up - literally in this case. After my enthusiastic endorsement of her establishing Woman Remodeled, she immediately set up a page for me. She called me saying “Check out my site I have a surprise for you”. Being a doting mother I immediately complied. And there it was - in full color - New Mexico Woman - words from a woman who has been there - or some such thing. My immediate reaction was to say “Thanks honey but you really shouldn’t have” My gut reacted as if she had given me a pair of black lace thong panties for my 57th birthday.What was she thinking? Oh well. she refused to remove it leaving me with this blank blog out there. How lame is that?
Not wanting to be a complete wimp I had her change the blog name to Shabby Chic. Sensing my inner fear she spelled it “Shabby Chick”, A tad passive - aggressive if you ask me . It’s not nice to publicly call your mother chicken. As I don’t believe in making hollow threats, I will post this blog and threaten to go on strike if she doesn’t change the spelling.
Ok, enuf about that
I have a friend in Toronto, who I will refer to as VF (virtual friend). She is not completely virtual as we have met and I spent a brief fabulously fun time with her during my last pilgrimage to Toronto (my home town)in October. Since that time we have been e-mailing damn near non-stop and as a result have become good friends.
Her partner’s mother died today.after a long illness. Over the last number of days I have been standing vigil over my e-mail inbox doing what I can to support her from afar. Despite my physical absence I was in that hospital room with her for 4 long days and nights. It has made me a believer in the ability of words to render comfort and companionship, no matter where they come from, no matter how far away they originate.
Despite the fact that I had not met her partner and did not know her mother, I grieve for her loss. The loss of any one’s mother pulls at us all. For those of us who have already lost their mother, it takes us back down that painful rabbit hole. For those of us who have not, it augers a time when we too will have to say goodbye.
Today the daughter asked all friends and family, where ever they happen to be, to make a toast to her mother’s life. As I did not know her mother I wrote a poem for all mothers and daughters. So I will say these words over my wine glass and dance a solitary 2-step in her honor.
Here it is
Passing Words
Her face shadows mine
The tint of her colours my life
Her voice whispers in my mind
Whether I want it to or not
In life I sought her and hid from her
In life I laughed with her and railed at her
In life I hugged her and pushed her away
That’s what we do
We daughters of women
That is how we love
Now that the day is done
I am free to embrace it all
I am safe to miss it all
And I will
Til next time
Shabby Chic
