Random thought for laughter...you know you are a woman from Canada when you get more excited that your fleece pajamas came in the mail than when a new pair of shoes comes in the mail (this was me on tuesday).
Wednesday-friday of this week is the Level 2 MYC (Music for Young Children) training seminar. It's always great to meet up with some of the other teachers, both to just chill (so to speak) and to gain insights. Unfortunately, the seminar did tire me out a bit, and I was not at my brightest during the Moonbeams One class this evening after I got home (Note to self, don't do that next year...). Or perhaps it was getting less than five hours of sleep because I was trying to complete a Brahms memory game that never was completed (I pulled out the D+ scale game instead).
Sleep...university students should get an exclusion from sleep...or at least a gene that allows you to feel like you got 10 hours when you really only got 2.
Since last monday, I have thought about G quite a bit. This evening, those memories and thoughts were triggered even more when my ipod on shuffle started playing a baroque trumpet concerto. G was an amazing trumpet player. Cancer deaths hit me HARD. I almost clicked to the next track, but I realized that it really wouldn't help anything. Perhaps things hit a bit harder because I was doing a fair amount of thinking about my mom today-it often happens like that when I am involved in MYC things, simply because she was the one who took me to FIVE years of MYC lessons, and my sister for FIVE years before that. And, we got talking a bit about stuff during the break. Two of the MYC teachers doing the training with me have young children, and although I obviously cannot talk about parenting from a parent's experience, I can talk about what worked for me...or not. Somehow, it got onto the topic of touches...this was with the mom who has a four-year-old son that she is teaching Sunshine One, and how it's sometimes hard for her NOT to be the cuddly mom during that class with him, to provide those small touches etc...even into the teenage years. I mentioned how it had sometimes annoyed me when I was a teenager, but my mom would hug me (even if I didn't really want one from her...), I would say "What's that for?" and the answer would usually come back "Just because I love you" (sometimes, it would be "you looked like you needed one").
Not many classes go by yet without wishing that I could tell my mom something about them, or show her something. Will this ever change? Perhaps not. Sometimes, it hurts a bit, other times, I merely have the deep respect and admiration for all that she did.
Sometimes, I wonder if I talk too much about my mom. Other times, I wonder if I don't think about her enough. I guess you will never truly get over something like this. Although I had obviously known people who had died before I was 14, the first death that really hit me was the death of a fellow schoolmate at age 13 from heart attack/cardiac arrest (he was born with a severe congenital heart defect/defects and had had several surgeries-was due for another one in a few months). But, to lose a classmate, who I knew from youth group...it was utterly shocking. I remember crying so much during the school memorial service the day that we were informed (a monday) that I practically fainted and couldn't see straight. Two songs became associated with S. that day, 'Blessed be your name' and 'Come to Jesus'. The hardest part for us as a school was that at chapel just a few days later, a group came in and, not knowing that 'Blessed be your name' was one of S's favourite songs and was played at the in-school memorial service, played it. We must have referred to 'Blessed be your name' as 'S's song' the rest of my education there. It is strange how 'Come to Jesus' became one of my huge comfort songs, and still is, given that that was the song during the service that practically had me hysterical. Even though I did not know S that well...do I still think about him? Yes, I do. Especially again recently with my own heart issues, granted, mine are obviously nothing like what he had.
Life goes on...as the father of Alexis Agin writes in his CaringBridge posts, today was one step further away, yet one step closer.
No comments:
Post a Comment