Most days I function well, as do others. But, some of those days, it’s difficult. No, not due to physical pain, but more due to emotional pain, what I feel, what I experience, what I remember.

Sorrow, thoughts of what would have made that situation better, actions I could have taken, words I could have said. All suddenly consume my thoughts and actions at a moments notice. The thoughts of what if? or why? are paramount in my mind. I find no peace or contentment in that moment.

That’s the problem. I am not happy at those times. I am not content. I feel stagnant, unable to move forward and berating myself for the inability to work out the issues that keep me in place.

I try to focus on the positives, take a moment to enjoy the here and now. For me that’s the rear of the house, the woods, squirrels, and birds. It’s also ideas that flit across my mind drawing in some of the magic around me – fusing color into my senses. I know it’s about enjoying the moment and feeling the sorrow but curtailing the anger as I don’t know who it’s focused at, me or the one I have lost. Definitely hard to do!

If I remember the person who has passed and good memories, the positive they brought to my life and others the colors of their life take shape and help heal. Though that person is now gone, those pictures remain.

When did that child stop taking my hand to walk down the hall to pick up his sister from her afterschool class?  Did I miss something in the progression of time?

I don’t think I stood still long enough to recognize the time passing.  I was always on the go, needing to do this and that, driving one here and the other there, wishing I had a moment to myself.  The days of not being able to go to the bathroom without a knock and someone yelling, “Mommy!!”

Now my child has his first job offer, and offer that is better than my first offer, by far!  And, he’s ready to head off into the large work world.  I hope he does well, enjoys himself and takes the time to stop, look around himself, and listen for the sounds of everyday.

My life’s work has been to raise my kids, and I and my spouse did pretty good.  They are good kids for the most part.  (Besides being awful at home at times, they are the perfect angels at someone else’s home!)

Friends hope for the day when they have grown-up kids.  But, the parent burden continues to be part of my life.  I worry about them still and am available to help out. I  I had promised myself, a much younger self who voiced this a lot to my spouse, “they need to grow, experience, and learn” from life’s disappointments.  We needed to allow them to learn from their mistakes.

But, being a mom means you kiss the boo-boo, wipe away the tears, and help them stand back up. Parenting is complicated, it never ends.   It’s a life’s work.

Sadness is something we all experience at one time or another.  It can be due to the wrong word said in anger, the inability to repair that beloved teddy bear, or the death of someone important to you.  Sadness overwhelms us, making the thought of that person a feeling of loss.  An experience of never being able to reach for that emotional connection again.

Memories remain.  But they are not the same.  The picture is a bit clouded over.  The sounds muffled.  The feeling dulled.  Nothing remains the same.  We are still here and that most important person/experience is gone.  There is a hole where contentment, happiness and that feeling of fulfillment had been held.

How do you replace it?  How do you cope?  What can you say that doesn’t bring tears to your eyes and sadness to your soul?  You are drowning in sorrow, believing the loss is too great to bear, overcome with despair.

But, being part of the world we come to understand sadness touches all of us. Sadness remains as do memories.  Though with each remembering something changes,  colors brighten, sounds are sweeter, emotions more loving.

With the need to look ahead and be part of the present, looking at a future, we carry the sadness.

I wonder a lot if I’m doing the right thing.  Am I helping or hindering?  Am I being a parent or a teacher demanding perfection? Am I the confidant or the crying child wanting to be soothed?  I can see myself in all these roles, changing from one to the other, questioning the choice I’ve taken.  As always, concerned as to ‘what’s the correct choice, the best choice, and how do I get to where I know for sure’?

Decisions, alternative choices, options.  These are difficult areas, unknowns in outcomes and emotionally charged.  The best choice depends on the situation.  I prefer to be more accepting and look at the whole situation I’m presented with prior to making up my mind.  But I am also aware that in making a quick decision the alternatives may not be thought out well.   Do I take the best option, or the easiest alternative, or the most politically correct stance?  Decisions are difficult.  They exist and therefore produce an outcome, an alternative that may lead to a great change or a horrible experience.

So how do I decide?  Do I take knowledge from previous mistakes or grand results and make an ‘informed’ decision?  If  knowledge of what has been tried before is the only way to decide on the present with a resulting future, do I take the risk of new or stay with the known?

Maybe knowledge doesn’t grow on trees, but what we gain in each days’ experience does make connections with past memories. It’s a lifelong process of learning the whys and where’s and hows of actions. We each remember life differently, and these memories are kept by each of us, taken out at times and explored.  Sometimes remembered well, sometimes only a whisper waiting for the thoughts to co-mingle with other memories bringing with them joy, hope, sadness, anxiety, despair, and love.  Memories of a lifetime’s decisions, alternatives, and actions.

So, does this mean as I get older, I’ll make better decisions?  I certainly hope so, but also hope  with those decisions where I take the wrong turn don’t end badly. And if they do, I hope I can see the good, that glimmer of positive in each outcome.

Stress is a normal part of life.  What is not normal is the amount of stress we accumulate and take on as part of the modern world.  When is the last time you took a moment and said,  “I’m not doing anything for the next hour but enjoy doing nothing?”

The modern concept of living is a daily schedule filled to the brim with activities and goals.  When we don’t reach most of those goals or participate in activities we view ourselves as failing in a monumental way. We feel we are lacking in something. Maybe this is the perpetual goal of ‘keeping up with the crowd’, a type of mentality that encourages cooperation, inclusiveness.  On the other side, what happened to individuality?  Can we not follow our own dreams?  If we do so, and don’t fit into the approved social scenarios are we then excluded from all group interactions?  How do we find that fine line of being yourself or loosing your individual identity within the group?

Is it really that important?  That’s the greater question.  When is the I more important than the group?  Is there an age, a social environment or designated life skill role?  Or, does it really matter?

Is the norm stress?  Is stress a part of life that is acknowledged, but is almost automatically adjusted to, a concept we have innately  learned to dance with?

Fear of the unknown, fear of grief, fear of loss. These are some of the fears that become more of an issue as we age.  We fear and grieve the loss of others, the loss of friendships and lifelong relationships with that one person who knows us,  both the good and the bad.

We fear the most important conversations,  especially those that need to occur before the loss.  The “I’m worried your health may not improve”, “time may be short” conversations. We need to hear its okay to go on, to live with grief, to cry, to express our emotions and be heard as the living.

Those whom we will be grieving want to express their fears and worries, want to tell us when we can no longer push for a medical miracle,  when it’s time to allow a graceful bow out and stop facing fear with anger and hostility.  We need to be able to hear the desires of the other and realize it is their right to define their fight.  We need to recognize the fine line between our wants for that person and the fight they don’t have the strength or desire to continue.  We need to allow their choice, how they live and how they die.

Death with dignity is not all that grand. We don’t usually go out with a roar, but a whisper. But is is our choice.