May the happy moments outweigh the sad


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 In my last post, I talked about not letting Easter get to you with its emphasis on children. Well, Easter got to me, but not in the way I expected. There were children around, and they were as adorable as expected. Children with their choir-singing parents, children getting baptized, tots trying to sing in the back of the church, pictures all over Facebook of families with kids. That was fine. But there came a moment last night in the third of the four long services that I sang and played for when we were once again remembering our loved ones who had died. I fixed on my mother and felt a connection. I felt as I often do that I am a direct continuation of her too-short life. Not only do I look like her and carry on many of her beliefs and ways, but I’m taking her life force beyond what she was able to do, in my work as a writer and musician, in my life with my dog here in the woods, and in the adventures I go on.
That’s when the sledgehammer hit me. I have broken the chain. I am not carrying that piece of my mother and her mother and her mother into the next generation. It dies with me. And that sucks. I want to wail. I want a do-over. Give me another chance; I’ll have children. I’ll do whatever it takes. But it’s too late. I can tell myself all kinds of positive things about how God has given me other work to do in this life. I can love everybody else’s kids. But it’s not the same, and that pain will always be there waiting to catch me at a vulnerable moment.
I can still enjoy days like today, Easter, when after church I went out for a very adult brunch with friends (who have lots of kids and grandkids but none of them here). Afterward, I came home, telephoned my family in California, changed into my sweats and set to work cleaning up my back yard. Nobody to worry about. Totally free. Tonight I’ll watch a movie, share a bowl of popcorn with the dog, and maybe soak in the spa under the stars. My life is good. In the middle of Mass today, I felt so blessed I could barely stand it. I was surrounded by friends, playing the music that I love, and yes, Jesus has risen from the dead. The sun was shining in, we were all dressed up in our Easter finery, and I wanted to hug everyone.
Most of the time I can accept that I will never have children, but there will always be those moments when it just plain hurts. Know what I mean?
May we all have more happy moments than sad. Thank you for being here. Keep coming back.
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4 thoughts on “May the happy moments outweigh the sad

  1. The good, the bad and the ugly. They never leave us.

    This year the day after Easter is a killer. In my rocky marriage Easter triggers bad memories. This past year has been fabulous. Still, I worry. I nipped it in the bud and spoke up on Friday. I told him how important it was to me to have a lovely Easter. He promised it would be the best.

    Friday night he worked at a community event and came home at a reasonable time and in good condition. I was pleased and impressed.

    Saturday I went about my day, happy with the feeling that this year was going to be different. I cooked, I made sure the Easter Bunny visited, I spent time with friends and I went to Holy Saturday Mass with a sister-in-law and it was wonderful. This year was more of a celebration instead of a reflective worship.

    He worked the event again on Saturday. But this time he came home reeking of alcohol and revealed he got into a fight with someone. Of course an argument ensued between us which carried over to Easter Day.

    I refused to let it bother me and I weathered Sunday Mass, a visit to the in-laws and a visit with my family before riding in silence to our home. I slept on the couch.

    Today I'm just an exasperated mess. The many stresses are building up and the full day of family made me realize how difficult things really are for me. Especially when I compare myself to those with big paychecks and beautiful families.

    Today I went to a hardware store to check something off my to do list. The lady who was “helping” me was very condensending and smirky to me. It was clear I was out of sorts. I politely told her that I wasn't having a good day and I was sorry to waste her time and I would return when I was more prepared. Instead of reacting with kindness she was even more smirky and that just put me over the edge and I raced out the store crying. People suck sometimes.

    I can relate to your feelings Sue. I had many happy moments on Easter but not without some regrets and sadness and real concerns about my future. This might be the final silly straw for my husband. This marriage with all of it's goodness is too complicated.

    Anon S

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  2. Anon S, I always feel like a complete idiot in hardware stores. I'm sure all the guys are rolling their eyes at me. I'm sorry that happened to you.
    The marriage doesn't sound good. It sounds like you're in that awkward stage before somebody declares it over. Maybe I'm wrong. I hope. I'm so sorry it's so hard for you. Hang in there and keep standing up for yourself.

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  3. Thanks Sue.

    Sorry for leaving such a long sob story on your blog. I'm forgot to mention how sorry I am for you, feeling the loss of your mother. To not get that back the opportunity to carry on pieces of someone you love (in the form of a child of your own) is terrible and something I fear as well.

    Thank you for your kind thoughts. I've spent many years not standing up for myself and it's really hard to start (for me).

    Anon S

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  4. Sue, you are ” Blessed to be a blessing. ” with your blogs and books and Facebook page ! Thanks so much for being there ! ((( Sue ))) While I personally haven't exactly walked in your shoes, the general path is quite familiar !

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