10/22/2018
“. . . when he’d felt what was left of her lift from the earth and dissolve into stars.”
~ Monica Wood, in Ernie’s Ark
It wasn’t my turn to keep watch that night
So I wasn’t even there to witness your last moments alive
We’d been waiting too long, I couldn’t stand the watching, I was the weak link, I found it all too painful, all the begging God to stop making you suffer
I’d been doing that every waking moment since we realized He wouldn’t be coming to save you, and wouldn’t be showing up to help with the medications, the caretaking, or even the family meals all that much either
But the moment my sister called to say you were gone, I desperately wanted you back, even just for one more second
The idea that you were gone was unfathomable, simply not possible, but so had been your being sick in the first place, and here we all were. . .
Death is cruel, far too final and unforgiving, it leaves no room for do-overs
And I sorely needed a do-over, many do-overs with you, Mom, although the humbling reality is I can’t really promise I’d be able to do any better a second time around
You always said I was brave, fearless, that I could do anything I set my mind to, that I always found a way to make things happen when I wanted to
But not when it came to cancer, not when your pain was unbearable to watch and the faith we thought would save you turned out to be the very thing that made you suffer more
It had been my faith first, it was my fault now
And it was my cowardly, squeamish self who was always the first to leave when things got too hard, too messy, too medical
I did not rise to any occasions in the days and months leading up to 10/22/2018, and I’m sure you felt my failure
Thankfully Dad rarely left your side and my superhero sister had been there for years in ways I couldn’t, so she certainly wasn’t leaving now
I’m glad they were the ones with you in your the last moments, but I wish I could have done better. I did love you. . .
In the eight years since you’ve been gone, I’ve missed you every day
All the grand-kiddos grew up — I grew up a little too
Now I’m struggling my way through perimenopause (it sucks!), learning how to be a good mother to adult kids (I hope), and working all kids of jobs and hours to put the boys through college (which I absolutely love doing)
Every single time my boys tell me “I love you too”, every time they text a “thank you, mama” from their dorm rooms, I think of you
Did I ever thank you for all you and Dad did for me?
Did you ever know that you and Dad believing in me changed the course of my life in ways too magnificent to say?
Did you know that even your hard parts and faults, our arguments and hard times, were all forgiven in the end?
Did you know how much I loved you?
Wherever you are now, now that you are stardust, I hope you do.
LEFT: Mom, Dad, and me trying our hand at a 5K run back in the day; RIGHT: Mom at the beach with my kiddos, her favorite place to be (and always in pink, also her favorite)
Every year, in the days between my mom’s birthday on September 22nd and the anniversary of her death on October 22nd, memories and regrets from 2018 take me over. Some years more than others.
Last Sunday, when I woke up to find my body too spent to move and my mind too muddled to tackle my to-do list, I reached into the TBR stack by my bed and found Monica Wood’s novel Ernie’s Ark.
I had no idea how timely my decision to read it this particular week would end up being. . .
Originally published in 2002, then reprinted in 2020 (the edition I have), Ernie’s Ark is a set of stories about love, loss, and the mess of real life. The very first story is about a man with a wife, a son with a mother, and she’s dying of cancer. The rest of the stories veer off, and yet somehow all connect to Ernie, his wife, and the odd ark he built for her.
Which is probably why the book has been sitting untouched on my shelf for nearly a year and a half — I have no doubt I’ve been avoiding it.
Except this time, when I picked it up, I suddenly recognized the little paper mill town on its cover — I held it up to my husband and said, “Don’t you think Abbott Falls, Maine looks a lot like Rumford?” He said it did. (Rumford is a little town close to our new house in western Maine. It’s where we pick up groceries sometimes, where we go for pizza and the DMV and Tractor Supply. It has an old paper mill and a river.)
Turns out Abbot Falls is Rumford. (According to the Afterword, the author is originally from neighboring Mexico, Maine, which inspired the setting). Also from Ernie’s Ark‘s Afterword are these words ⤵
“Life brings us to our knees, yes it does, and for a writer, the aftermath of a great humbling cannot help but change the work.”
It was a great humbling, my mother’s passing and my utter failure to help in any tangible way while it was happening, that set me to sharing my writing in the first place back in early 2019.
I don’t write about the experience very often outside of my private notebooks, but I find that on those rare occasions when I can no longer look away, when I stare down the pain straight on and decide to share what comes from that staring down, my work and my soul are changed.
I’m extremely grateful for the synchronicity that brought me to Ernie’s Ark this week. It’s helped me process and heal in ways I hadn’t up until now. I’m still working through it, still trying, but I’m getting there.
I hope at least one person reading this finds a bit of courage here to keep trying at whatever is yours to process and heal through, too.
At the very least, I hope my words let you know you’re not alone in the trying. We’re all walking through something. Some of us just a little slower and messier than others.
⊹⊹⊹
Here’s what I’m reading now ⤵
WHAT’S ON MY NIGHTSTAND
I’m a very slow reader, so it’s rare that I read a whole novel in one week. But I devoured Ernie’s Ark this week, and now I’m not sure where to go from here. I may read something else by Monica Wood, maybe a re-read of her novel I loved so much in 2024, How to Read a Book? Or maybe I’ll find an older one of hers to love. I’ll keep you posted.
WHAT’S IN MY EARBUDS
Barbara Kingsolver’s newest novel Partita is still in my earbuds this week. It’s so good that I lose all sense of time when I’m listening to it. I love it completely. (How does Barbara Kingsolver do that exactly?!) I don’t want it to end, but I only have three hours left so it will be ending this weekend and I’ll have to find something new to love. If you know of something good, let me know.
WHAT’S IN MY MORNING BASKET
These days, all my spare thoughts are becoming more and more consumed by my new creative hobby, so I’m turning my coffee time attention to a nonfiction book about creativity I loved a couple of years ago, The Creative Act by Rick Rubin. If you haven’t heard of it, here’s a link to a little something I wrote about it a few moons ago (link here).
WHAT’S ON MY WEEKEND TBR LIST
I plan to use this weekend’s reading time to get deep into whatever new novel I land on, but I’m also planning to get my hands on a big, chunky big-city newspaper (I crave those like chocolate sometimes).
What about you? Read any good books lately?
I’d love to know :) Send me a message
✌🏼️💓 📚
Celeste
did AI write this? nope, this lady did ⤴ always