I continue reading The Bright Hour and I’m still enraptured. This book, reminds me of another book: The Woman at the Washington Zoo by Marjorie Williams. Both books were written by mothers who passed away from cancer before their time. Both leave behind young children. That’s where the similarities end. One is about living with terminal illness; the other is about being a female Washington Insider in a man’s world.
The only reason this post is tagged book club is because book titles are included. This is not a book review. Instead this post is therapy. Writing to relieve my anxiety.
Yesterday as Lulu and I were out and about, we stopped at Barnes and Nobles. She was picking up Grimm’s Complete Fairy Tales.
We also added on two bookmarks. Hers was serious We are Stardust Meant to Shine. Mine was cheeky – Never Judge a Book by it’s Movie. I mentioned to her that I wished I could find the bookmark she made for me. A mother’s day gift one school year … either kindergarten or first grade. I asked her if she remembered giving me that and of course she did. I used that bookmark exclusively until it went missing sometime around 2005. The unfortunate event of 2006 really shook up the place. There are still items which are missing.
Lost. Forever. Some. Irreplaceble.
Timing is everything y’all. Fast forward to today. I am all by my lonesome (correction was by my lonesome … they are home again). Lulu and Billy Bob took in a movie without me. They needed space from me as I have not been very good company of late. As much as I think I hide my emotions, I don’t. I have always worn and will always wear my heart on my sleeve.
I am sipping my coffee, lounging and reading The Bright Hour which I only got yesterday after waiting patiently for a copy to become available from holds. Serenedity that the book became available when it did.
Quite honestly though I am sad. The topic is sad. Yet bittersweet because death is written about as living. LIVING with a terminal illness.
That bittersweetness set in motion the my memory of The Woman at the Washington Zoo.
My thought bubble: I know I have that book somewhere. But where? I will probably re-read it after finishing up The Bright Hour.
Me walking around the house … checking. Me going into Pony’s old room … now our office. Me missing the good old days … wishing for another chance.
I spy with my little eye. Grabbing the book off the top shelf. Eureka!
As I open the book, this falls out …
The hole punch used to have a yarn tail in it. The paper strip is covering Lulu’s name … written is a childish scrawl. Same as when I see my mom’s writing, tears spring to my eyes.
This is the lucky cat which she is still very fond of even to this day. I acknowledge we’ve been to hell and back … the surgery sure but even before that. Stories that I dance around as they are not mine to tell. Times when the weight of those thoughts are too hard to bear, I write my feelings without specifics. Hinting and hoping maybe someone will guess. Until then luck or faith, perhaps both sees us through.
As always, more to come.