Week Ending 1/26

 Grief goes on. So does life. 

I'm starting to find my footing again. It's hard. 

I had a nice chat with the grief counselor from Respite House. She said something that sticks with me and is really helping - Grief isn't linear. Some days will be OK. Other days will be wretched. Neither is a failure. I'm not forgetting and I'm not backsliding. It's normal and expected. Actually, it sounds a lot like something I'm used to... good days and bad days. 

Like I said, starting to find my footing again.

Also, I've been writing again. A new Wyrd Tales short story. It's funny but in the middle of my real-life grief, my characters are happy and getting married. It was a challenge to write that, at first, but I'm actually managing it. 

So, yeah... good days and bad days.

Onward

Week Ending 1/19

I've been thinking about grief a lot.

Grief colors everything. It makes it hard to think. Hard to feel anything else. Grief can be powerful and consuming. 

I wanted to find a way through it. A way to deal with it. A way to move past it.

Then it hit me. Grief is love. 

Grief isn't grounded in love. Grief isn't the other side of the coin of love. Grief isn't caused by love or an outcome of love.

Grief is love.

Nothing more, nothing less.

I no longer want to find a way through grief, to deal with it or move past it. 

I grieve deeply because I love my mom deeply. My relationship with her has always been one of the cornerstones of who I am. That hasn't changed. I said last week that my love for my mom isn't a "past tense" thing. I haven't stopped loving her because she died. I still love her. She is still a cornerstone of my life... and part of that, now, is this pain. This grief. 

It will never go away. I don't want it to. But it does hurt less, knowing that at the heart of it, is love.

Love is powerful. Love is difficult. Love is sometimes painful.

Love holds us together. Love joins us together, across distance, across time, across the borders of life itself. 

My mom believed "God is Love" 

I embrace my grief. I embrace my love.

Onward.

Week Ending 1/12

My mom died.

What else do I say about this week? It feels like it's been years since Tuesday night. It hurts.

I keep thinking - "I should call my mom." The first time I thought it, I sat down and cried for a while. I still keep thinking it. I feel like she'd have some good advice. At least, she'd listen. 

Many of her friends have reached out to me and said how special she was. I appreciate that. She was pretty special. She touched a lot of people. She lived life and loved life. Yeah, she was special. 

I love my mom. No past tense there. I love my mom. She'll always be a big part of my life. I may not be able to call her anymore, to see her anymore, but I know she will always be with me. 

Onward

Cathy Ann Pawlowski

"The world may not be fair, but I can make my part of the world fair."

My mom, Cathy Ann Pawlowski, passed away peacefully last night. Below is a draft of the obituary I've written for her.

Cathy Ann Pawlowski, born on February 25th, 1949, in Bridgeport, Connecticut, passed away in Burlington on January 7th, 2025. A longtime Vermont resident, Cathy was an avid reader, a lover of movies, and a talented fiber artist. She was a lifetime member of the Embroiders’ Guild of America and a leader of the Arts and Crafts group at the Pines Senior Living Community, where she lived for many years and will be remembered for her quarterly Season cards. Possessed of a deep compassion and love of life, Cathy often said that "The world may not be fair, but I can make my part of the world fair." 

She is survived by her brother Kirk and sister-in-law Patricia of Vancouver, Washington, her son Leonard and his wife Juno and her beloved grandson David of Huntingburg, Indiana. 

The family wishes to thank the staff of UVM Home Health and Hospice and the McClure Miller Respite House for the care they provided in her final months.

Week Ending 1/5

Waiting.

I'm staying in regular contact with Respite House. Mom is being kept comfortable and is resting. She is no longer able to talk on the phone, but I called her today. The nurse held the phone by her ear, and I talked for a little bit. Told her I loved her. The nurses don't think it will be long now.

Meanwhile, I'm discovering the absurd amount of paperwork and bureaucratic headache that will accompany end of life. It's going to make a tough time even tougher, but we'll deal with it. I'm actually terribly good at bureaucracy.

Otherwise, my own health is... well, rotten. Between still recovering from the trip a couple of weeks ago and the stress I'm not doing great. Still, one foot in front of the other. All we can do.

Onward