I started making lists when I was about twelve. I know this because I have them. Mostly the lists were about people. People I liked, people I had crushes on, people I hated. The lists changed frequently, sometimes almost daily. Often there were ties for first, second and even third place. When my friend Fern and I spent hours on the phone at night, reading each other our diary entries, we’d sometimes make lists together. We had enemies lists which often included politicians we heard our parents discussing. We had favorite athletes lists and music lists, teachers lists and of course, lists of our peers and family members.
We changed popular song lyrics to reflect our current passions and we had so much fun singing them, especially the ones that were Beatles songs. I still find myself substituting our words when a tune pops up in one of my playlists. You’d never have known that either one of us had a care in the world. But of course we did.
My lists got more complicated as time passed. There were the standard lists that were more like timetables, when work needed to be done, birthdays and events that needed to be remembered, the stuff of calendars. But I had lots of other lists too. In my attempt to keep my priorities straight, I managed to write lists for a wide variety of topics. I had self-improvement lists, lists of books to read and movies to see, lists of subjects to become knowledgeable about, lists of places to see and goals to accomplish. I have a list I call “the permanent list.” That’s the one that has the unforgivable words or actions of people that I’ll never forget or forgive until either my brain or breath goes.
“Michael Quotes”
Right now I have a list of nicknames Michael called me. I also have a list of his terrible jokes and funny quotes that are part of our family’s vernacular.
“Birds of today”
Starling
Blue jay
White breasted nuthatch
Sparrow
Cardinals
Downy woodpecker
Carolina wren
Brown thrasher
Cowbirds
Catbird
White crowned sparrow
Hummingbird
Grackle
House wren
Rose breasted Grosbeak
American Robin
Chipping sparrow
White throated sparrow
Redbellied woodpecker
Red breasted nuthatch
Goldfinch
Junco
I have lists of birds and butterflies that have visited my garden. I have lists that are so obtuse I can’t recall why the words are on the same page. The habit of listmaking is a part of me which I suspect will go on until I don’t. After years of waking up and thinking of the day ahead, asking myself what I should think about first, I figure this was a pretty rational response to the flood of thoughts that’s my typical response to opening my eyes.
I suspect that some of my dreams are my subconscious attempts to keep sorting through the ever burgeoning thought stack in my head. Some people hoard stuff. I hoard words, ideas and feelings. I’m aware that the sorting by list is ineffectual at times. For now, it’s become clear to me that I can’t anticipate how long it may take, if ever, to always remember that Michael is dead. I mean, I know that he is. But when ambling through my days there are countless times when I expect him to walk through the door. If I feel like ignoring a text, I always think, wait, it might be Michael. I’ve called my son his name periodically.
In our younger days, Michael owned the car of his dreams, a white 1967 GTO convertible. Vroom, vroom. Today I was in a bookstore and saw a thick shiny book on the history of GTO’s and walked straight over to it, thinking I’d buy it for him and how much he’d love it. These moments are fleeting but real. If I don’t like my dreams, the ones when he and I are arguing, it sours my day. When I have a good dream about him, I wake up and acknowledge that feeling before going back to sleep.
September 17th, 2019
Hi baby,
Things are better now. Tristan is healing well from his surgery and Gabriel turned 9 today.
Renee,
You hit the nail on the head. The increasing numbers of people who occupy my sphere that are experiencing illness, death or the process of dying Is daunting. I struggle with how to stay present, living a vital and vibrant life while also embracing this ever enlarging “other” dimension. I often find myself looking for the right balance between sharing thoughts about my reality of loss and grief with my children who are living in the most vibrant and robust time of their lives.
I find myself wondering how my mother struck this balance. I know, at least for myself, it’s important not to become engulfed by all the natural truisms that accompany aging. At the same time I need to have a way to honor the sense of loss (including my own decline in whatever form it might come). If I ever figure out how to live in the best of both of these worlds I’ll get back to you. ❤️
Maybe I should just drive to Pittsburgh for a long weekend and we can try to talk it out. Complicated business.