You never stop the bleeding...

Loss:

It's such an endless waterfall of emotion... run by the wattage of memories, millions of 'What-If's'... 'What-Was-To-Come's'... 'Man-This-Woulda-Been-So-Much-Better-If-They-Had-Seen-This-Too' and the darkest chocolate of bittersweetness.

Ever since I was a little boy I worried about losing people close to me, and I always thought/think of it this way...

Based on age, the younger one is, the "Vertical Losses" are the worst ["Vertical" meaning up the family tree... i.e. parent[s].  The ones above, and sometimes, below us].

At a certain age, perhaps mid-20's and up, but I'm not really certain, the "Horizontal Losses" take the greater toll ["Horizontal" meaning to our sides: the best of the best friends, siblings, and of course... husbands, wives, mates: the folks who know more about us than, in the best of ways, we do of us].

And then, when, or if, children re-enter ones cosmos the two directions of Vertical & Horizontal Loss meld into a single form of varying shapes & colors.

But where I got stuck was this...

My mother, Janice Evelyn Cutshall, was not only my mom -the Mom of Mom's- she was my best friend in a way that more often than not was subtle and hinted at.  I was/am a kind of carbon-blueprint copy of her.

And boy, do I miss her.  11 years after her passing, and growing more bothered that I cannot remember the sound of her voice, I miss her.  The sayings, the phrases, the stories, yes... the pitch and timbre, no.

When she was dying, she blamed herself for my weight.  It was insanely kind of her, and completely wrong too.  She, and I'll always remember this, said to me in this very slight, frail voice, almost a whisper... "I am so worried about your weight, having to go it alone, after I'm gone.  You know I blame myself for it.  I should have been... something, I should have... ".  And that was what she said. 

I always thought the word she wanted, based on standard stereotypes of parenting, was:

"Harder"... "Harder on you, Scott".

And she couldn't say it. 

How much love is wrapped in not allowing yourself the use of a word, or phrase, while you are passing from this Life, this World, and just not allowing yourself to say that to your youngest son?

So much grace, so much dignity, so much strength and last...

...so much bravery.

When I think of Amy, and when I think of Chloe... those are the two people that wound me the most that my mom -the Mom of Mom's- isn't here for/to see/to know/to Everything.

So, in the end, I am stuck... stuck, in the concept devised by an over-thinking little boy originally from Northwestern Pennsylvania, that Vertical meshes with Horizontal and when the thought of her -the Mom of Mom's- enters my head, yet again, I am of the realized notion that:

Real bleeding never stops.

Keep Ridin'... Always

Comments

[Jeff MacDonald]

Hey Scott, You said "real bleeding never stops". Either does real loving, and your love for Chloe and Amy is living proof. All started by your mom.

I feel the same way about my Grandmother who passed about 4 years ago, So I put a tribute page to her at www.bignose.ca/agnes that i flip to when ever i feel like it.

I enjoy reading your blog, keep up the good work.

[Marge]

Scott, I just finshed reading your amazing story in the Rivendell Rider 40, to say I am, awed, impressed, inspired, well I don't even think that's adequate.
never stop riding, peace!

[Hurltron 5000]

Mom's rule, my friend. Ask me about Mary Pat sometime. She was/is an absolute saint. r.i.p. Keep up the great work, friend.
-H

[beth h]

Jews light a candle each year on the yahrtzeit (anniversary) of a loved one's death. Not their birth, but their death. Because the candle isn't for them so much as it's for us. Each candle lit, each year farther removed from that day, is a new measure of how far we've come since then -- and yet, with that person somehow inside us.

Our parents come to inhabit us in ways we could never imagine. (My mother's eyes and my father's smile greet me every morning in the mirror, something I take immense comfort in.)

May your mother's memory continue to be a blessing.

[Ian Hopper]

Thanks again for your comment on my blog about my dad dying. That meant a lot to me coming from you... though we've never met, I have the utmost respect for you and I hope to meet you and your family someday, maybe go for a ride too.

As I was reading this entry and upon hearing you mention how you couldn't remember how you're mom's voice sounded, I was wondering if you'd read Fatty's (fatcyclist.com) blog entry about how he and Susan have been recording themselves talking about their life together for their kids. Their story is as miraculous as yours, in a totally different way. If you can, you might consider doing the same thing for Chloe. I'm planning on doing that with my wife so my son can always hear our voices.

Ahhhhhh... now I'm crying. Yer right... the bleeding never stops.