After the Ashes, Fire...

It's been three months since our beloved Mom--Demetra Allender--died. I was substituting "transitioned" for "died", but the truth is, she died, passed-away, left this world. I thought the days immediately following, would be the hardest, but there was soooo much to do: paperwork and bills which Hansoo and I had to take care of, a very-brief "family-only" viewing, her eulogy and other pieces to write, her funeral to plan, etc., etc...and lots of travel to accomplish all that. My lovely sister--Tina--was an integral part of the funeral planning process. She made beautiful cards (she even included words from a poem I wrote, for Mom--on the Memorial Cards!) for everyone, arrived early at Sacred Heart Cathedral where Mom's funeral was held, and set out "Kisses from Heaven" (Mom's favorite was Hershey Kisses Milk Chocolate with Almonds) for everyone to enjoy. Tina and Breaz also selected the verses they read from the Bible, and Tina situated the beautiful floral arrangements we received, into a pleasing configuration. She and my sweet niece--her daughter Breaz--read at the funeral, just-after I read Mom's Eulogy. The graveside service was actually exhausting, because even though it was October 24th, a Saturday in Autumn, it was swelteringly hot and sticky. Once we were seated, I stood up to read two poems: the first was formerly-called "For Mom on Mother's Day, 2003", but I re-titled it "Mom, I Can See You". The second poem was from playwright Tennessee Williams, it's called "Heavenly Grass", which Mom heard me read at ol' Theya Helen Hartley's funeral, in Savannah, in August 2007. Our dear Daddy (he and Mom had been divorced over 30 years) had arranged for the cooling/shading-tent for us, chair set-ups, and paid many of the fees. Tina and Tom found a gorgeous Mother-of-Pearl Urn for Mom's Ashes to be placed in. I am mentioning some of the particulars, because I think this kind of "delegating" of duties made it far, far easier on each of us... And, because all of this was so coordinated, the funeral actually went as well as one could expect this sort of thing, to go.... I was definitely heartened to see so many folks who loved Mom, come out to "pay their respects". So, when were the hardest days? Well, um, that would be....Now. Immediately following Mom's funeral and Ashes-Interment, I knew I would address the many items I'd wanted to--but had absolutely NO time for, during the past two, nearly three years (Mom was only diagnosed in May, 2013, but, before Mom got ill, I had begun working as POA for Daddy, who was very, very sick with Stage 5 Kidney Disease; before that, there were numerous illnesses of a serious nature throughout my husband's family). On the short-list of my To-Do's: *Submit poetry for work-shops. *Submit poetry for publication. *Complete a New Voice-Over Demo, specifically for Animation/Gaming. I accomplished all three tasks--not within three months, but within...three weeks. I went to see my fabulous Talent Agent--Jana VanDyke, and she is patient with me, and yet is encouraging me, to ready myself to begin-again, auditioning for TV/Film. I am also completing writing my play which will eventually become a screenplay, "The Taste of Shapes", very soon. So, the next few weeks, I'll be writing until my arms ache, and my eyes bleed. I'll be checking in here with you, kids, and much more often than these past few months. Because as hard as this is, writing about this, it's much harder, when I don't write. Just ask Jessica Handler, author of "Braving the Fire: Writing through Grief and Loss", which is quickly becoming my guide for Living.... My personal message for all of you out there in Blog-o-sphere, in Facebook-land, in the Twitter-verse: When you are filled with Joy, write. When you are devastated, write more.... Peace, kids.

Eulogy for Mom--Demetra Leonora Allender, May 28th, 1939-October 12th, 2014.

So it ends. The life of the person who birthed me into this world, the person whose life I fought to save, for the past 17 months, has left this world. I must write the Eulogy for Mom, for her funeral, very soon. I've already written background-info for the priest (she's having a Roman Catholic Funeral). I've listed who she is "survived-by", and written a brief bio for the funeral home which handled her cremation, because they are posting that info, as well as announcements of the arrangements, etc., on their website for us. And now? The Eulogy.... How do I begin to describe Mom? Well, she was gorgeous: a dark-haired, doe-eyed Greek beauty, with olive skin and defiant, curly black hair. Hair she often despised, as she found it "unmanageable". I'd say her hair was like Mom: untamed, and un-tame-able, Mom lived her life by her own rules. She exited childhood and leapt quickly into marriage, a marriage that although it didn't last forever, lasted a good long while, a marriage that even Mom would later say was "a good, strong marriage". A marriage that provided her with two daughters who adored her. Mom was not afraid of hard work, or getting sweaty, or dirty. Her love of the gym, running, jogging, bicycling, and gardening, all delightful for her. In a word, "Work-out" describes Mom, because in addition to the obvious act of working-out, Mom gave us all a mental-workout, as she was always up-to-date on world events, and politics. She loved all things CNN, and MSNBC. Lived for Anderson Cooper, and Chris Matthews. "Meet the Press", and "Face the Nation". Mom was active in campaigning, too. I asked my sister, Tina, if she could name one word to describe Mom, what word would she use, and she immediately said: "forgiving", and, 'sacrifice', because she made sure we always had everything we needed..." Tina's correct. Mom's forgiving heart meant we could come to her, even if we'd made a mistake--unafraid, knowing we would be unconditionally LOVED...and her total commitment to providing for others may well have been her biggest flaw, in that she often neglected her own needs, choosing to help her family, no matter the cost. And Mom welcomed us with her faith, always. For me, a person who for decades did not have a sense of God, her patience and example of selflessness deeply affected me. Eventually, I returned to the Church, and Mom, then-employed by The Jewish Center in Dunwoody, Georgia, as I discussed my flourishing curiosity about all things spiritual, remarked "You know, Lisa, if I weren't Catholic, I'd be Jewish...I love the rituals, the food, and you know, Jesus was Jewish..." Shortly after Mom was diagnosed, she said her faith was strong, but she wondered if it was 'strong enough". I saw her whip through day after day, week after week, month after month, of Radiation Therapy, and the bi-monthly Chemotherapy, and the attendant acupuncture to improve her balance, the physical therapy to help her walk a bit, the extra supplements she had to swallow, often painfully, and I saw a woman, undeterred, determined, and brave. We attended Mass together, in Newnan. We saw Mom get stellar results from her treatments that as her physicians stated, "only 1% of cancer patients receive." And when times got tougher, she was able to find joy even in the darkest of moments, by painting, or attending a drum-circle session, playing Bingo, or enjoying gelato. One day when Mom was especially tired, the Chaplain at CTCA, Newnan, came by and left a book for us, outside our door. Knowing Mom needed her rest, I brought the book, entitled "Jesus Calling" inside, setting it on a table out of her sight, as she was already falling asleep. When she asked "Who was that?" I answered simply, "Why, it was Chaplain Lawanda, she brought "Jesus Calling". "Well, tell him I'm not ready", was her curt reply. Such was Mom. Inclusive, loving, always-quick-witted, and always there for us. Sunday before last, Mom was ready, and I watched her fly away to a place of peace. We Love You, Mom.

Eating My Heart Out.

So, I'm baking.
Brownies, Key-Lime Pie, and cupcakes. In that order, beginning tonight.
Grief has a way of activating us.Why Grief? Because it's the emotion that presses on us, leaves, and returns. Often, folks say it comes "in waves". Mine comes like musical notes--high notes; low, deep notes. Every day.
Who am I grieving? My uncle's life-partner, a man with many wonderful talents, R. worked as a carpenter, barber, florist, renovator of homes, and gardener. R. was tender-hearted towards animals. He even adopted and cared-for an orphaned squirrel--for the whole six years it lived(inside their home).
When my uncle called to go over the obituary with me(I was placing it in the paper here, for him, as he lives elsewhere), he asked how he should refer to R.
"Should I say 'companion' or 'partner', Lisa?"
"Why don't you say 'Life-Partner', I mean, if you want to..."
He interrupted with "make a statement?"
"Yes," I said,
"Because he was your Life-Partner."
"42 Years", he said.
This is what I'm grieving. That his love,their love, while always there, was never openly acknowledged. Oh, it was with me(I'm an activist, I'm the Bi niece he can say anything to), but I think it's only now that he sees that maybe if he/the two of them could've been more open, more "out", the loss that he feels wouldn't have this ring of hollowness, that we both know it does.
That's why I'm grieving. I'm grieving that they never really had that recognition--as two men who deeply loved one another, as two men, both smart, both witty, both with many losses in childhood, who looked to each other, to walk through life with, together.
Peace, kids.