Your exquisite writing brought up so many unfine feelings and thoughts. I was shocked to discover that I have breast cancer at 78. The surgeon, who removed a lump and 2 lymph nodes on November 13, said I have a very very good prognosis. The recovery is slower and more painful than I expected. I am dreading the radiation therapy to come-every damn day for five weeks. I thought I was a brave soul. What a way to find out I am not! A close friend is having pelvic surgery tomorrow for some unknown thingy in her uterus. She is terribly fearful and my reassurance that this too will pass doesn't mollify her qualms. I am so sorry that your lovely mother passed away at 55. We live in an unjust world filled with ghosts and goblins that stick around past Halloween. As if this weren't enough, I am angrier than I have ever been at my husband. He refuses to go to an anger management class. I may suggest marriage counseling. I can't afford to move out of my lovely home. Will our 48 years together end before a chance at a 50th celebration? I should probably have put all this whining in a post rather than burdening you but you inspired me. I am so grateful that I found you. Here's to a happier New Year!
Here is to a happier new year! And sometimes anger--though painful--is clarifying, a path to shifts both large and small. I'm hoping radiation therapy isn't too bad; I know it's a lot. Warm wishes for healin--
I can’t believe I spilled all my personal feelings in a comment to you. Thank you for your kind response. My friend’s pelvic surgery went well. They removed a large polyp that was benign. What a relief. I made appointments to see a Medical Oncologist and a Radiation Oncologist in a couple of weeks. My husband and I are talking again. I’m looking for a marriage counselor. Life doesn’t get more exciting than this! lol
Lovely, Meghan. And your mother's youth at her death feels so shocking to me now. What doesn't shock me is how beautiful and brilliant you and your siblings are. What brains, what energy you came from. Sending big big love.
It's a funny old time of year all right. My dad's funeral was on December 2nd; it felt comforting and right that there should be a Christmas tree in the church, as he had brought such a sense of theatre to our Christmases - parties, decorations, the rituals, the candlelit midnight Xmas Eve services, the FOOD...
Later, my ex-mother-in-law, the kids' grandmother, died on Christmas Eve.
Most recently, my aunt Mary, to whom I was very close, died at about 1am on December 26. They are all with us, they never leave us, and this is the time of year when they're closest I think.
The day of the election results my mother sent an email to me and my siblings, asking if we were okay and referring to us as 'her chicks'. From this I deduced that she wasn't, so I called her. 'Oh, I'm all right', she said, sounding completely normal. 'This morning it was so bad, though, I went and dug out Gran Gran's old bathrobe! I want my Mommy...' (My mother is now 90, and my grandmother died in 1993.)
Wait', I said. 'Are you wearing her bathrobe right now? (This was about 3pm NY time; I'm in the UK.) I said, 'I don't even remember Gran Gran's bathrobe!' then instantly it appeared. 'Oh, wait, is it a sort of dusty pink?'
'Yes'.
'Is it sort of fuzzy?'
'It is! and it's very cosy!'
And that's how Gran Gran took care of Mom & me on the day Trump was re-elected. Just one of several shadows hanging over this holiday season. I'm knitting socks and thinking of giving my daughter Keith Jarrett's Köln Concert on vinyl, for her new turntable. We do what we can, and then some. I'm sorry about your beautiful mother.
It is intimidating to try to write a comment - my very first Substack comment - after reading Elaine Waxer and Emma Straub here. But as with Elaine, your post speaks to me deeply and directly. I am only slightly younger than your mother, happy to still be here, but tomorrow will be my late wife's birthday (she died in 2021), and my girlfriend and I are planning a small celebration for her tonight. A few close friends, some stories and memories. So the paradox of intertwined grief and joy is very much with me. Despite these plans I hadn't really been thinking that way - I was focused on logistics, what time to order the food, that sort of thing - until I read your piece just now. Thank you for this. It is what I needed.
Thank you for sharing this. I know, it's so easy to focus on the logistics, especially at this moment...My condolences for the loss of your late wife, and I'm glad to hear of the new joy...
Your exquisite writing brought up so many unfine feelings and thoughts. I was shocked to discover that I have breast cancer at 78. The surgeon, who removed a lump and 2 lymph nodes on November 13, said I have a very very good prognosis. The recovery is slower and more painful than I expected. I am dreading the radiation therapy to come-every damn day for five weeks. I thought I was a brave soul. What a way to find out I am not! A close friend is having pelvic surgery tomorrow for some unknown thingy in her uterus. She is terribly fearful and my reassurance that this too will pass doesn't mollify her qualms. I am so sorry that your lovely mother passed away at 55. We live in an unjust world filled with ghosts and goblins that stick around past Halloween. As if this weren't enough, I am angrier than I have ever been at my husband. He refuses to go to an anger management class. I may suggest marriage counseling. I can't afford to move out of my lovely home. Will our 48 years together end before a chance at a 50th celebration? I should probably have put all this whining in a post rather than burdening you but you inspired me. I am so grateful that I found you. Here's to a happier New Year!
Here is to a happier new year! And sometimes anger--though painful--is clarifying, a path to shifts both large and small. I'm hoping radiation therapy isn't too bad; I know it's a lot. Warm wishes for healin--
I can’t believe I spilled all my personal feelings in a comment to you. Thank you for your kind response. My friend’s pelvic surgery went well. They removed a large polyp that was benign. What a relief. I made appointments to see a Medical Oncologist and a Radiation Oncologist in a couple of weeks. My husband and I are talking again. I’m looking for a marriage counselor. Life doesn’t get more exciting than this! lol
Lovely, Meghan. And your mother's youth at her death feels so shocking to me now. What doesn't shock me is how beautiful and brilliant you and your siblings are. What brains, what energy you came from. Sending big big love.
Belatedly, thank you, thank you, dear Emma.
Your book The Long Goodbye helped me navigate my own grief when I lost my beloved mother just a few years ago. I'm glad I found you here.
<3 Thank you for letting me know and I'm so sorry about the loss of your mother.
Thank you for the luminous clarity of this post Meghan. Sustenance in written form.
Thank you <3
Wonderful words for this time. Lost my Dad on Dec. 19 long time ago and also just this morning.
Oof, yes, exactly. 💙
Which of yours should I read first? Long Goodbye? Invisible Kingdom? The poetry?
Ah, hard to say! The Long Goodbye, which is from another era in my life, is the closest to this post. Thanks for the interest.
It's a funny old time of year all right. My dad's funeral was on December 2nd; it felt comforting and right that there should be a Christmas tree in the church, as he had brought such a sense of theatre to our Christmases - parties, decorations, the rituals, the candlelit midnight Xmas Eve services, the FOOD...
Later, my ex-mother-in-law, the kids' grandmother, died on Christmas Eve.
Most recently, my aunt Mary, to whom I was very close, died at about 1am on December 26. They are all with us, they never leave us, and this is the time of year when they're closest I think.
The day of the election results my mother sent an email to me and my siblings, asking if we were okay and referring to us as 'her chicks'. From this I deduced that she wasn't, so I called her. 'Oh, I'm all right', she said, sounding completely normal. 'This morning it was so bad, though, I went and dug out Gran Gran's old bathrobe! I want my Mommy...' (My mother is now 90, and my grandmother died in 1993.)
Wait', I said. 'Are you wearing her bathrobe right now? (This was about 3pm NY time; I'm in the UK.) I said, 'I don't even remember Gran Gran's bathrobe!' then instantly it appeared. 'Oh, wait, is it a sort of dusty pink?'
'Yes'.
'Is it sort of fuzzy?'
'It is! and it's very cosy!'
And that's how Gran Gran took care of Mom & me on the day Trump was re-elected. Just one of several shadows hanging over this holiday season. I'm knitting socks and thinking of giving my daughter Keith Jarrett's Köln Concert on vinyl, for her new turntable. We do what we can, and then some. I'm sorry about your beautiful mother.
"They are all with us, they never leave us, and this is the time of year when they're closest I think."--beautiful.
It is intimidating to try to write a comment - my very first Substack comment - after reading Elaine Waxer and Emma Straub here. But as with Elaine, your post speaks to me deeply and directly. I am only slightly younger than your mother, happy to still be here, but tomorrow will be my late wife's birthday (she died in 2021), and my girlfriend and I are planning a small celebration for her tonight. A few close friends, some stories and memories. So the paradox of intertwined grief and joy is very much with me. Despite these plans I hadn't really been thinking that way - I was focused on logistics, what time to order the food, that sort of thing - until I read your piece just now. Thank you for this. It is what I needed.
Thank you for sharing this. I know, it's so easy to focus on the logistics, especially at this moment...My condolences for the loss of your late wife, and I'm glad to hear of the new joy...