May 26, 2009

The summer is pressing itself upon us; seems like Spring, true Spring, was here so quickly. Now everything is warm sunshine, buzzing bees, and one thousand memory rushes a day. The end of June was when we found out that all was not well with Teddy, and I think I may have to resign myself to being overwhelmed with memories until August passes.

This weekend was full of sensory triggers, as is today, and these triggers – the smell of cut grass, the smell of lilacs, the sound of bees, the bright yellow dandelion blobs on our lawn, the soft noise of the ceiling fan in the bedroom – are like buttons on a time machine, sending me back, and back again. Those visits to the past are probably part of the healing, but I am left feeling drained and desperate to get out of the time machine, just for a day, just for an afternoon.

I want to go on a whiskey tour of Scotland.

I want to take a few days off work and visit the Oregon coast, where I could walk along the beaches and read a sea chest full of fiction, romance, mysteries, and YA lit. until I feel satiated and up-to-date on current literature again.

I want to get away. I want to escape from this season, from these languorous summer days where I keep meeting my past self, keep reaching out to my boy who is gone. I want to (and here’s the catch) escape from me, to run away from the tired, grief-ridden person I’ve become and be someone more lighthearted and less burdened for a while.

Patience is not my virtue, but I need it so much right now. I need to be patient with my body (especially since I’m denying it margaritas and caffeine), with the passing of this beautiful, horrible season, and with where I am in my grief. I think I need to let the memories come and allow myself to be overwhelmed by them without panicking, too. At least when possible.



  1. ((hugs)) abiding with you.

  2. If you do go on that whiskey tour of Scotland, I’m coming. I am going through all the same thoughts and feelings here, only the seasons are flipped. The colder it gets, the sadder I seem to get. We’re on a slippery slope to August now, Erica.

  3. patience with yourself is an excellent present *for* yourself.

    This year the seasonal cues are not there for me. And at this point I don’t remember a whole lot of last year either…

  4. Ah, patience. So important, yet so difficult to achieve. You’re right, I think we do have to go through those “pits of grief” in order to come out of it. I’m just sorry is so utterly draining and painful.

    Strength to you.

  5. Patience is so hard. Be kind to yourself as you delve into the depth of emotion in this season–and getting away isn’t a bad thing either. Not that you get away from your feelings, but sometimes a change of place gives you a break that allows you to breathe or feel things in a different way.

  6. Once again, Erica, you took the words right out of my heart.

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