Families United

A situation occurred during the first couple of hours of me arriving in Arizona for my mother’s funeral.  The details of the event are not important only to say that I could have gotten angry and upset about the comments that were made, especially since they were made without merit and things were attributed to me that were not accurate, in fact, not true.

It was out of character for me to not get defensive and speak my mind, but at the moment that it happened, my conscience said “it doesn’t matter.”  What is important is that, as a family, we stand united.  And my idea of united was to let something flow off of my shoulders and onto the floor.

It is amazing how much I have grown over the years.  I have expanded my thought and have been in a position to learn great things.  And I learned how to share those things.  By example.  You cannot always teach by spoken word especially if that word is spoken in anger.

I addressed the issue with humor.  It works for me.

In not responding angrily I was able to stay in the conversation and help to move it forward.  As a contributor you have much more leverage than if you are in open opposition.

While I have not yet perfected this formula it continues to be a work in progress.  But then so am I.

If I didn’t know better, I would say politics was in my future.  Ah….Ha Ha?

Euology.

Her name could have been synonymous with that of Dior, Klein, and Wang, but that was never meant to be.  Helen Marie Tabor grew up in the town of Bloomfield, New Jersey.  Her home was essentially without a father.  She had one, but he traveled as a truck driver and it is my understanding that he was not home much.  Long enough perhaps to father a quiver full of daughters leaving them to be raised by a strong mother and a community of relatives.

The house she grew up in was swallowed up by the Turnpike.  It was a house that her grandfather built.  One of many on the street.  But even with the changes brought about by sprawl, she remained in the community in which she was raised.  Even returning to it for the period just prior to and two years after my birth.

She shared everything with her 3 sisters.  Growing up in the depression it was just the status quo.  And being the youngest you had the opportunity of wearing everything every other sister had ever warn.  There were stories of hand-me-down bicycles, ice skates, and clothing and rarely was she the recipient of something that had a tag on it.

She learned early to play piano and organ, but it wasn’t a skill that would one day be a vocation.  She played well, but with the finesse of a machine and not of a summer breeze.  Being indicative of the era it was in America, she also learned to knit and sew.  This was to be her silent passion.

Beautiful and soulful, she grew up like many of us…not realizing that something was missing until becoming an adult and seeing that THE world was different than HER world.  In high school she met the man who would be her life mate and father of her children, but it was mostly due to duty and expectations rather than joy and purpose.

She had spoken often about New York, and fashion, and designing clothing…but as it so often does, motherhood trumped personal desire.  And thus, a Silent Passion.

I have a sense, from conversation, that she may not have seen her child raising as particularly successful.  On more than one occasion she had been chided by her offspring as not being emotionally connected to them.  The phrase “I love you” was never freely given.  In fact, for me, it was my late 20’s before I coerced it from her lips.  And very rarely again.

But this is not a condemnation.  It is just the person she was.  And even though we are not without our own issues, her 3 daughters and 1 son have turned out to be pretty outstanding human beings.  Would she have won mother of the year awards?  No, but she was the best mother I could have had, because the combination of her and my father’s skills made me who I am today.

Maybe not a designer of clothes, but a 4 time creator of wonderful people…and countless ‘grand’ people.  Helen M. Tabor Henry.  Gone at 84.  You have been Loved.

Grieving...and Thanksgiving

There is no grieving process.  Not my words.

Let me step back though and clarify.  Pyschologists say that when you grieve for the loss of someone you go through a “process,” but then they turn right around and say that everyone’s process is different and can be filled with many different idiosyncrasies.  So while technically, by definition, it is a process.  There is just no rhyme nor reason to it.

I had prepared for my mother’s passing as much as anyone can prepare for such a traumatic event.  I had my idea of what emotions I would feel, how they would hit me, and how I would deal with them.  So far there have been no surprises.  I kept my spirits up, for the most part.  I told a few jokes and laughed.  I held back most of the tears and sent a barrage of good thoughts out.

I was standing in front of a grocery store handing out donation cards for Meals on Wheels when I got the text from my sister.  “She died about 2:30.” While the text seemed perfunctory, it was actually very considerate and it was information that I was prepared to receive.  Plus I knew that my sister had just gotten to the hospice and she was likely balling her eyes out.

I politely stepped away from the entrance, informed my wife who was there helping too, and stepped away for a moment to collect my thoughts.  I then posted the news to Facebook.  It was the quickest way that I could think of to tell all of my friends and family what had just happened.  They, too, were expecting it.  I then went back to the grocery store entrance and continued to encourage people to help provide meals for shut in seniors.

This was yesterday…and today is Thanksgiving.  And while I am sad at the passing of my mother, Helen Marie Henry at the age of 84, I am thankful for the life I had in her care.  It molded me into the person I am today and I am thankful for him too.

I know that this is trite sounding, but step away from whatever it is that has you bogged down, even if for a brief moment, and express gratitude in your heart.  And if you feel up to it…extend that gratitude to someone else.  You will feel better!