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From: Daniel on 20 Jun 2008 15:29
Tonight is the night. These are hard days. Why would the anniversary
of my mother's sudden death feel worse this year than for the past
five or so? These are hard days for me.

Thinking of all of you.

What follows is one of my early posts, from July of 2000. It just
seems right to remember.

- = - = -

:: I am a 42-year old little boy who has lost his Mommy.
::
:: It's been three weeks (and two days) since Mom died. At first it was
:: a week of physical and mental hell. It was like a combination of a.)
:: the flu, b.) bad nightmares, and c.) having to get up and speak in
:: front of a large group of people (unprepared). Now I alternate
:: between, on the one hand, telling myself to chill out and not expect
:: too much because it's ONLY been three weeks; and, on the other hand,
:: telling myself to buck up and get OVER it, because, geez, it's been
:: THREE WEEKS!
::
:: The importance of sharing especially one part of this experience with
:: somebody has been growing. (This starts out weird, but stay with me.)
::
:: = = =
::
:: I had seen the movie "The Matrix" the weekend of June 17, so I guess
:: the idea of phones ringing was percolating around my brain for days.
:: (If you've seen the movie, you know what I mean.)
::
:: I was having a dream in which I am in a cafe in a downtown high-rise.
::
:: Looking out the window, I can see the glass front of another
:: high-rise. In that other building across a narrow street I can see
:: my Mom. With her is my grandmother (who died in 1981), and they are
:: dressed up as though they are going to a function like a wedding.
:: My mom has a telephone at her ear, but she is not talking. Instead
:: she is smiling, waving at me, and pointing at me. No, not pointing
:: AT me but BEHIND me. I turn around, and see a pay phone on the
:: wall. I turn back to my mom, and gesture toward the phone, as
:: though to say, "What, you want me to make a phone call?" Mom and
:: Grammie laugh and wave. My Mom still has the phone, and she's
:: pointing. Just then the phone rings.
::
:: The phone rings. I wake up. I can still hear the phone ringing.
:: "That's strange," I think, "I can still hear that phone." Then I get
:: it. It's my real phone ringing. I rise and pick up the phone, but I
:: don't say anything. It's 1:20 A.M. 06-21-2000. Finally, I say,
:: "Hello?"
::
:: On the phone is my Dad, telling me Mom has been taken to emergency in
:: an ambulance. He says slowly, "The prognosis not good."
::
:: = = =
::
:: Well, Mom had died very suddenly of a massive heart attack, and was
:: in fact dead by the time the ambulance showed up, but her pacemaker
:: restarted part of her heart, so there was some question to the
:: paramedics.
::
:: What has me concerned now is that I have NOT been crying. I am
:: still exhausted, up-and-down, no appetite, headaches, grinding my
:: teeth. Everybody around me seems to have moved on to other things.
::
:: Thanks. :~) [That's a smile with tears still running down.]
::
:: -- Daniel.

--
Daniel ( deltaechomike(a)usa.net )
From: Daisy on 20 Jun 2008 23:00
(((Daniel))) I know what you are going through, Busters sadiversary was a
few days ago and it was very hard...it seems that the days leading up to the
actual death day was harder than the day it happened. I don't know why that
is. Thinking of you dear friend.

--
Daisy
"Daniel" <deltaechomike(a)usa.net> wrote in message
news:tp0o54lm4m1dvqis5f5rdbjun4pilcptse(a)4ax.com...
> Tonight is the night. These are hard days. Why would the anniversary
> of my mother's sudden death feel worse this year than for the past
> five or so? These are hard days for me.
>
> Thinking of all of you.
>
> What follows is one of my early posts, from July of 2000. It just
> seems right to remember.
>
> - = - = -
>
> :: I am a 42-year old little boy who has lost his Mommy.
> ::
> :: It's been three weeks (and two days) since Mom died. At first it
> was
> :: a week of physical and mental hell. It was like a combination of
> a.)
> :: the flu, b.) bad nightmares, and c.) having to get up and speak in
> :: front of a large group of people (unprepared). Now I alternate
> :: between, on the one hand, telling myself to chill out and not expect
> :: too much because it's ONLY been three weeks; and, on the other hand,
> :: telling myself to buck up and get OVER it, because, geez, it's been
> :: THREE WEEKS!
> ::
> :: The importance of sharing especially one part of this experience
> with
> :: somebody has been growing. (This starts out weird, but stay with
> me.)
> ::
> :: = = =
> ::
> :: I had seen the movie "The Matrix" the weekend of June 17, so I guess
> :: the idea of phones ringing was percolating around my brain for days.
> :: (If you've seen the movie, you know what I mean.)
> ::
> :: I was having a dream in which I am in a cafe in a downtown
> high-rise.
> ::
> :: Looking out the window, I can see the glass front of another
> :: high-rise. In that other building across a narrow street I can see
> :: my Mom. With her is my grandmother (who died in 1981), and they are
> :: dressed up as though they are going to a function like a wedding.
> :: My mom has a telephone at her ear, but she is not talking. Instead
> :: she is smiling, waving at me, and pointing at me. No, not pointing
> :: AT me but BEHIND me. I turn around, and see a pay phone on the
> :: wall. I turn back to my mom, and gesture toward the phone, as
> :: though to say, "What, you want me to make a phone call?" Mom and
> :: Grammie laugh and wave. My Mom still has the phone, and she's
> :: pointing. Just then the phone rings.
> ::
> :: The phone rings. I wake up. I can still hear the phone ringing.
> :: "That's strange," I think, "I can still hear that phone." Then I
> get
> :: it. It's my real phone ringing. I rise and pick up the phone, but
> I
> :: don't say anything. It's 1:20 A.M. 06-21-2000. Finally, I say,
> :: "Hello?"
> ::
> :: On the phone is my Dad, telling me Mom has been taken to emergency
> in
> :: an ambulance. He says slowly, "The prognosis not good."
> ::
> :: = = =
> ::
> :: Well, Mom had died very suddenly of a massive heart attack, and was
> :: in fact dead by the time the ambulance showed up, but her pacemaker
> :: restarted part of her heart, so there was some question to the
> :: paramedics.
> ::
> :: What has me concerned now is that I have NOT been crying. I am
> :: still exhausted, up-and-down, no appetite, headaches, grinding my
> :: teeth. Everybody around me seems to have moved on to other things.
> ::
> :: Thanks. :~) [That's a smile with tears still running down.]
> ::
> :: -- Daniel.
>
> --
> Daniel ( deltaechomike(a)usa.net )


From: gloria212 on 22 Jun 2008 10:26
Dear Daniel---I've always felt that there is something very special
about the closeness of boys to their mothers--your the proof. Believe
your mother has enveloped you with her love and strenght.
Mitchels Mom

Time may be a great healer, but it's a lousy beautician.

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