Gutters and Art

November 13, 2022 / Jessica / 16 Comments

Gratitude:

rethinking things
trusting myself
taking a leap when what I really want to do is run
encourage-rs who have my back
sticking things out, even when it’s hard
trusting myself some more

I’ve almost quit two things recently. Art and bowling.

Seriously. Twice at the bowling alley, I have said out loud, “I am going to quit!” The first time was a Saturday night when my son, husband, and I were practicing. I could not get anything right!

Gutter. Gutter. Gutter.

So frustrating.

Gutter. Gutter. Gutter.

The second time at bowling was sooooo embarrassing. I’d been practicing with my son’s ball and the finger and thumb holes are smaller. So, I get up there on my first throw of the night, brought my ball back and…

Dropped it.

As in backwards.

I heard someone say, “Oh Jessi” in a sort of ‘what in the world are you doing’ tone, then I turned around to see all these really great bowlers staring at me.

I could’ve crawled into a hole.

I almost walked out.

I mean, come on! I dropped the ball. I’ve gotten LAST place 25 out of 27 games. Everyone there knows I’m new. Hello. I’m sick of being last.

Enter art. I LOVE art. I make some pretty cool and unique things with vintage jewelry, but lately trying to figure out what to do with it after I make it has been wearing me out.

There are so many options and weighing the choices is simply exhausting. On top of of that, I’ve been trying to find my value in a world already jam packed with art.

Eeks.

All of that has got me to thinking about my momma and her art. She was an amazing artist. She never sold any of it, but she blissfully kept on creating it. I’ve been trying to figure out if that is my fate and purpose too, or if my pieces are meant to be with someone else.

Yesterday, I made a choice. I chose. I decided. That ever happen to you? Where simply deciding brings such peace and a joy that springs forth like a bloom?

With my art, I’m going to try something new. A new place, just to see how it goes.

I decided I’m not going to give up on bowling either! In fact, I got a new ball. I’ve been practicing my steps at home and in the yard and I’m going to work with a coach this week.

All those gutters and that dropped ball aside, I am getting better. My scores were in the 50’s, now they’re around 100. In only 9 weeks. Pretty darn good, even with the embarrassing ball drop.

My hunch is that losing my momma this year is at the root of all this indecision. Grief can really seem to pour on the doubt. But, I think my momma would be pulling for me in both bowling and art.

With that in mind, I believe I’ll keep right on going. Perhaps my art will find some homes and maybe I’ll even turn that lowest score of 25 out of 27 games into the highest score in 25 out of 27 games.

Anything is possible.

If you’d like to read my art post it’s called “I’m Going For It” and it’s on https://jeweledagainbyjessica.com.

Thanks for reading!

Jessica

The Bookcase

November 5, 2022 / Jessica / 16 Comments

Gratitude:

a warm day
working outside
reflections on the window
my parents’ old bookcase they gave me long ago
unboxing wonderful things

I’m standing in my dining room, looking out the window. It’s night and the way the kitchen light is angled, I can see things on the counter, even with my back to the kitchen. The cookie jar, bananas, apples, and chicken art are visible from here.

This afternoon, the front porch rails, bannisters, and I became friends. Some green muck tends to grow on them, creating layers of crusty looking junk. It may be caused by summer’s humidity, I suppose. Well, after walking by them for about the billionth time, I went inside and got a sponge.

An hour later, I had done some good work. My friend tells me that her gramma had a saying about work, that hard work is good work.

It sure is.

My other bit of good, hard work came from me moving a big, wooden bookcase from the garage to the dining room. It took up residence in the garage after we unloaded it from the moving truck four years ago. For whatever reason, it stayed there.

But, suddenly, in April, I wanted it in here! My momma passed away out of the blue on the last Sunday in March. I wanted it in here so I could see it every day and fill it with all the things she’s given me and my collectibles through the years.

That was seven months ago and never got moved inside…

Until now.

My momma was a “get things done-er.” My dad worked a lot of hours supporting a family of six, so if she wanted/needed things done, She did it. If she didn’t know how, she learned.

Ditto.

Like my dad, my husband works a lot of hours supporting our family of three. I could’ve waited until he got home, but I thought I could do it myself.

I didn’t quite know how to get the bookcase in the house, so I just started. With a little ingenuity and some luck, that beautiful treasure holder is now in my dining room.

I spent the evening unpacking glassware, vases, Depression glass, leaves and acorns my boy gave me when he was five, and gifts from my momma.

Those things?

They’ve been packed up in tubs for four years, too.

What a joy it is to see them again.

Thanks for being here.

Jessica

Reflections

November 4, 2022 / Jessica / 21 Comments

My 22 day miracles and gratitude challenge ended yesterday. It was a bit all over the place, emotion wise. Loss does that. It seems to step in, sometimes, on a perfectly sunny day, scooting over on the bench next to us.

For a couple of months, I’ve actually felt kind of bad for ‘subjecting’ readers to my going on and on about how badly I miss my momma. “Who still wants to hear about this?” I thought.

I mean, it’s been 6-7 months, shouldn’t the grief be all tidied up by now? Swept up and let go like dust on the wind?

I’m not trying to rush myself through parent loss by any means. I’m trying to survive it and get through it with baby steps and grace. But, I kept thinking about the sharing it part…

Then, about a week ago, while on social media, I did a grief search. Turns out there are tons of pages about loss and grief with thousands and thousands of followers. It reaffirmed that talking about losing my momma is ok.

Does it help me? Yes.

Could it help someone else? Maybe.

My cousin sent me a poem called, “Don’t Miss Me More Than Once A Day,” by Donna Ashworth. It’s a wonderful poem and I was instantly hooked on her writing.

The author has a FB page and lately she’s been sharing about mother loss. Talk about resonating. It seems like when someone gets it, they get it.

Anyway, what I’m learning is, this loss isn’t just some separate thing I can just shut off and send down the road. This experience is part of who I am now. Has it changed me? Oh my, yes. Have I figured out all the ways yet? No, not really.

I’m still getting through the “I can’t believes”, “I miss…”, and “what in the world happeneds.” It’s like when you drop a photo album with a thousand pictures in it and they all fall out in heaps on the floor. It’s the sifting and putting them back in some sort of order, but there’s no sense to where they go.

Maybe, eventually, I’ll get this all figured out. Maybe I won’t. What I’m realizing now, 7 months into this, is that talking about it or sharing this is appropriate whenever it comes up. People went before me in mom loss and people will come after me, too. We can all learn something from each other, I bet.

Instead of a daily challenge now, I’m just going to write and share adventures. Even if and when those adventures are about my beautiful momma.

Thanks for reading!

Jessica

Seven Months

October 26, 2022October 26, 2022 / Jessica / 19 Comments

Somehow I’ve made it seven months without my momma. I have gratitude for my faith, my family, and my friends. And, the miracle is and was my momma.

I wrote a poem today. I don’t write poems often, but it feels right today.

“How I Miss Her So” by Jessica Adam

Seven months ago today

I spent the day with my momma

Twelve whole hours with her

at home.

Time since then

has been like a magician’s hat,

some days disappearing monumentally fast,

some days so still they

wouldn’t budge.

The shock of loss is still intense,

appropriate, I suppose.

I had her for 50 years.

I miss her texts with pictures of her pets,

her asking for pictures of my son,

and her whistle.

She was always whistling.

Can’t believe it’s been seven months

since I held her hand

and kissed her cheek.

My, how I miss her so…

I know I’ve told you a million and one times that parent loss is extremely hard. It shakes the leaves and rattles the roots. The amount of tears that have fallen feel like infinity plus ten, plus a hundred, plus a thousand.

Though not endless.

Yesterday I didn’t cry. Today I am.

I wonder how this will feel seven months from now and seven months after that. The same, I suppose.

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the idea of how quickly she was gone. Or how sick she got so fast. I’m guessing that will never ever ever make sense.

But, my hope is, that by writing this, when I reread it a year or five from now, that I will SEE the strength I had.

Strength is so fleeting in this. Some days it feels nonexistent. Others days, I feel solid enough to listen to other people talk about their losses.

It has truly been a ‘raw, emotional, learning, hard, heartbreaking, sad, love filled, people-have-shown-up-for-me, I can’t believe I’m doing this’ kind of seven months.

If you are going through a loss of your own, as always, my heart goes out to you.

Thanks for being here.

P.S. I just went outside to take these pictures and saw three deer in our freshly cut back field. Miracles.

Jessica

** photographs taken by me

Sweet and Kind

October 17, 2022October 17, 2022 / Jessica / 12 Comments

Last night, my cup runneth over-ed. Like all over the table and floor. I’d opened up WP and saw a notification. After I figured out what it was about, my tears just ran.

Last month, a blog I follow had posted about a Bake Off blogging contest, where the ‘prize’ was to have the entry featured over the weekend of October 15-16, as a way to meet new blogs.

I don’t normally enter baking contests, but her posts got me interested. So, I decided to try it.

When I went to visit my dad recently, I made him his favorite Raisin and Chocolate Chip Oatmeal cookies. I took a picture of them, wrote about how we lost my momma, and submitted my entry.

Last night, my entry posted. My goodness, what was written about my entry, my blog, my photos, my momma, and my words was soooooooo incredibly sweet and kind. The crocodile tears, sweet and kind.

After I handed my phone to my husband to read it, I sent the post to my friend SanDee. She’s been with me in this, since the minute my momma went into the hospital.

Thank you Jeanne, Mel, and Mel’s husband for creating a Bake Off where bloggers can see/meet/ find new blogs to read and follow. Such a wonderful opportunity.

Here’s a link to the post written about my entry that I’ve been gushing over:

https://crushedcaramel.wordpress.com/2022/10/16/sharing-the-joy-of-baking-with-those-we-love-most/

Jeanne’s blog is: https://ajeanneinthekitchen.com

Mel’s blog is: https://crushedcaramel.wordpress.com

Thanks for being here. Hope you have a nice day!

Jessica

*heart with ‘mom’ in the sand that*
*I made at the beach on Saturday*

** photograph was taken by me

Miracles and Gratitude Day 8

October 3, 2022October 5, 2022 / Jessica / 21 Comments

Truth?

I’m a sappy mess when I leave my parent’s house. I’ve always been. I’ve cried nearly every time I’ve left their house for, well, most of my life. Wayyyyyy before my momma passed.

For years, they’d stand in the doorway or on the porch, waving and watching as I pulled away and I cried for miles.

This afternoon, my son and I will start making our way south and east. It’s 8 hours up here to my dad’s. We’re going to split the trip and stay overnight half way. Then, home tomorrow for bowling.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love my home, too. I don’t mind going home, even. It’s just the leaving here that starts the waterworks.

If you’ve lost one parent, you may understand this need to want to see and be with the other one. It’s such a gift to be here. I thought I’d have my momma 20 more years. As they say, ‘time is not promised.’

For my miracles and gratitude today, I’m going to share my momma’s flowers. She LOVED flowers. All kinds- wildflowers, roses, irises, morning glories, and more.

Miracles and Gratitude Day 8:

I’m grateful for these past few days. There’s miracles all around.

Feel free to share your gratitude and miracles if you’d like. What I’m beginning to see is, the more days I do this, the more miracles show up.

Hope you have a great day.

Jessica

On Giving

September 30, 2022September 30, 2022 / Jessica / 9 Comments

Yesterday, while traveling to my parent’s house, we stopped in a town to do a little shopping.

When we pulled into the parking lot, I spotted a van with a couple of people standing by it. A closer glance revealed that it was a mom and dad and two kids.

My attention was immediately drawn to a sign the dad was holding. I couldn’t read it all, but past experiences seeing signs told me they may have been needing help of some sort.

After we came out of the store and got in our truck, I got a good look at their sign. They were traveling and needed some help with gas, food, and a motel. I found myself opening my wallet….

My momma was a giver. Her heart was bigger than the size of the word generosity itself.

She’d buy overly priced popcorn and baked goods that kid’s clubs were selling. She donated items, gave food to families, gave money where it was needed. She gave.

In her 75 years on this planet, she helped many. Not just people, but animals, too. I can’t even begin to tell you how many sweet, random dogs made their way to our house.

Not a bunch at once, but one here and there. She kept them and they’d become part of the family. One time, several kittens showed up on the back step during the winter.

She nursed them all back to health and kept them until they went on their merry way.

I think watching her give to and help others all my life, rubbed off. I’ve always been a giver, but recently, since losing her, I’ve really had the urge to give.

A couple of weeks ago, about sunset, I went to the grocery store in a town 25 miles from home. When I parked, I saw a KITTEN at the edge of the parking lot by the weeds.

It was alone, no other cats in sight. Strange, I thought. Kittens are usually together. It was black with white feet and about half the size of our kittens.

When I came out, I saw it again. My heart ached. I went to the Dairy Queen next door and ordered some rotisserie chicken. After it cooled, I tore it into tiny bites, and took it to where I saw the kitten.

The kitten wasn’t there, but I put it on the ground, called “here kitty kitty” and got back in my truck. A minute passed and it saw the chicken. Full belly that night.

I went to the same grocery store last week. I was praying that the kitten wouldn’t be there and that it had found a home. Heart crushed again, it was still in the same spot.

I came out of the store all ready to go back to Dairy Queen for more chicken, but I didn’t see the kitten anywhere. Maybe someone took it home? Where was it? I was torn about what to do.

I left.

While driving home, I began thinking about that kitten. What if it stepped down into the weeds and I just didn’t see it? What if it was hungry? Should I turn around?

I actually pulled over and thought about if I should go back. That may sound extreme for some kitten in a parking lot, but that’s what we do, you know?

Compassion just shows up where and when it’s needed. Kitten or human or anything else, hungry is hungry.

It was dark and I ultimately, I decided to wait. Logic started kicking in. The kitten had survived a week. I had also talked to a store employee at the checkout who said he had been trying to get the kitten to come to him.

I went on home.

Back to the store parking lot yesterday. I found $10 in my wallet, pulled up near the van and stuck my arm out the window. The mom came over offering all kinds of thank you’s.

I pulled away with tears in my eyes.

My momma was a giver. So am I. No wonder I miss her so much.

Thank you for reading.

Jessica

*** all writing and photos are mine

Keep on Writing

September 23, 2022September 30, 2022 / Jessica / 26 Comments

A WordPress notification popped up just now. Apparently, it’s my 7 year anniversary on this blog. Whoa, that seems a bit unreal. 7 years?

Back then, I was one of those, “Blog?? Oh no, not me! I’m NEVER going to have a blog! No sir! Ugh uh. Hard pass.”

A sudden week’s worth of hospital days/ mystery illness changed that. In the midst of night time hours, while my family slept, I started this blog.

I was sooooooo nervous. I’d spent a lifetime doing what I love doing- writing and taking photographs, but put them out into the world? Umm, no.

My mom was not onboard. She couldn’t really get her mind around what a blog was or why in the world I thought I needed one. It reminds me of the movie, “Julie and Julia” where Julie’s mom has the same sort of reactions.

I carried forward anyway and mom became one of my top readers. She signed up for email alerts. She got notified and read all my posts.

It didn’t seem to take long for her to understand my sudden urge to blog. She stepped right up and into this blogging adventure.

She stood by me when I had zero WP follows and stuck with me when I had 100.

She’d comment on my posts, a few words here and there about what she learned or liked.

Heck, she’d even welcome me back after I had long dry spells in writing. And, I have had some looooooong dry spells!!!

Miss

That

Last week I considered quitting this blog.

Seriously.

I have been so absolutely torn about HOW to write about loss, carry forward with other writing, and circle back to loss if I need to. It is absolutely exhausting trying to figure out how to write right now.

Being totally open, to a bit vulnerable, then switching to regular stuff, only to need to write more vulnerable stuff?

Eeks.

It’s like a teeter totter that’s lost it’s balance.

“Forget it,” I thought. “This is too hard. No wonder people don’t write about this! I’m quitting!!!!!”

But, teeter totters don’t get up and walk off the playground, so neither will I.

When I started this blog all those years ago, I did it on the premise that if I could help one person, I’d keep on writing.

ONE person. That’s a pretty darn good reason to write.

And, you know what?

I didn’t see this until RIGHT this second, but dang, maybe that one person, for today anyway, is me.

Here’s to 7 more years!!!

Thank you for reading.

Jessica

*zinnia we planted in memory of my momma*

*** all writing and photo are mine

Tears and a Smile at the Table

September 3, 2022 / Jessica / 8 Comments

Remember “Tears at the Table?” My post about how we went to that restaurant and I cried?

We went back there yesterday.

The atmosphere was a bit different. It was a Friday afternoon, instead of a busy Saturday lunch. We were seated in a different room, at a high top table. I faced a window, but my back was towards the door, so I couldn’t see who came in and left.

My heart got moved a bit, when I saw a man about my dad’s age, standing outside on the sidewalk. I still have my dad, eight hours away, but I miss him every day.

We ordered. Our appetizers came. Our food came. We ate. A pretty ‘normal’ eating out.

That is, until we were waiting on the check.

This time it wasn’t a group of women, someone who resembled her, or a kind stranger that started the steady stream of tears.

Instead, it was a familiar tune that kicked up on the speakers. Stevie Nicks.

Fitting actually. My momma loved Stevie Nicks. This time the tears at the table prompted a bit of a smile, too.

Thanks for reading.

Jessica

*I made this on my parent’s Scrabble board in March 2022*

Half a Year Ago Today

August 26, 2022August 27, 2022 / Jessica / 21 Comments

Six months ago today my momma made her heavenly trek. Six months? Where the heck did half a year go?

Sometimes it feels like half a second and sometimes it seems like an eternity since I’ve seen her. My eyes get all gushy with tears when I think of that.

I have learned a lot about myself and the capacity of others, in the days since.

Others have stepped up and shown up. In the beginning, there were cards, flowers, food, visits, hugs, gifts, and prayers.

As time went on, there were check in’s, texts, “how are you doing’s”, comments on blog posts, and hand holding.

Still, there is hand holding and support.

I don’t have many friends who have lost their moms, so in a way, I’ve had to go first. In the beginning, I leaned hard on the ones who’ve traveled this road before I did.

One friend in particular held me up, before my momma even passed, through the services, and afterwards. She’d been there. She’d lost her momma, too. Miles apart, she gave me the strength to keep on walking.

So, here it is, the anniversary day. I find myself reflecting on some of the hardest days I’ve ever had to go through.

Did I want to or was I prepared to lose my momma? Heck no.

Beginning to end, it was 10 days.

Am I over it? Heck no.

Will I ever be? No clue.

But, here I am, doing it.

I thought I’d share some of my personal insights, in case you’re in parent loss or are supporting someone who is:

parent loss feels like it’s own kind of grief
when loss is sudden, it can feel very hard to understand
for me, understanding all of the medical stuff didn’t happen until a few months later
the shock can be huge
grief shows up when it wants to
sometimes tears will fall in public places
the missing can feel like an ache
music can kick up memories
laughing and stories about them can help fill up the heart space
being with family was critical for me in the beginning because they “got it”
it’s a hard reality that there will be no more texts, calls, visits
suddenly the last gift received becomes sacred, there won’t be anymore
hearing about other people’s moms, in the beginning, was sooooooo hard when I suddenly didn’t have one
the ‘firsts’ of the first year can be heart-crushing: birthdays, holidays, special day, even anniversaries
getting used to not having them here is tough

This grief journey has certainly been a process. Here are some things I’ve learned about myself so far:

I am stronger than I ever gave myself credit for.
This grief has never been just about me and my loss. I have been able to support loved ones through this, too.
I understand now, how to help friends through similar things. I mean, I tried to before, but now I truly get it.
Writing about it is ok. Talking about it is ok. Reaching out to friends about it is ok. Sitting in it is ok. Working through it is ok. It is ok.
I will be ok. That sounds tiny, but in parent loss, it’s enormously huge.

Some of you that have lost your moms have reached out and told me you think of them every day. Same here. I think of my momma daily.

Here on the ‘reminder day’ that she passed, it’s no different. In fact, the blessing in that is, today I’ll probably think of her more. There’s a grace in that, you know?

Thank you for being here and for reading.

Sincerely,

Jessica

However Long

August 19, 2022August 27, 2022 / Jessica / 13 Comments

A few weeks ago, I shared one of my posts about my momma on my social media timeline and wrote at the top, “I know loss gets old…”

My point was that:

I understand that my momma passed months ago.
I understand that I’ve already talked about it.
I understand people have already read about how this feels.
I understand that in a world full of ‘lots of sad’ no one wants to be reminded of sadness, grief, and loss. I get that. Who wants to be reminded again?

I wrote that at the top for a couple of reasons. It was a heads up for what followed or an ‘I know you probably don’t want a reminder of my momma’s loss.’

It was also a buffer for me, in case not one single person wanted to read it. If I warned them about what it was, they wouldn’t have to start and stop reading, like it’s old news.

As a writer, who is knee deep in trying to keep my sails straight in this momma loss thing, there seems to be this fine line: write about it, but don’t write about it ‘too much.’

So, what constitutes ‘too much?’ Honestly, I have no idea. And, who’s fine line is that anyway? I have a feeling it’s mine…

A friend commented on that social media post. Her response was simple, but huge:

“Loss never gets old.”

Wait, what?

Loss never gets old? As in never? What about next Thursday? Will it be old then? How about 5 weeks from now? Will it be old then? Two years from now? Will it be old then?

Not with her! Is that testament of true friendship or what?

And, we do that, don’t we? We drop the anchor when our friends and loved ones are going through stuff. We stick around for them for however long.

And, I tell you what, for the person on the other end of ‘however long’, that is pretty monumental, you know?

‘However long’ allows some wiggle room. Not healed yet? Take your time. It is open ended. Expectations are dropped in however long. And, there’s no cap on the amount of support or the time of support.

However long, may be exactly what someone needs.

This summer, we’ve been in a drought, aka, loss of rain. Our yard was brown and crispy. There was no need to mow and no weed eating was needed. Did the trees and grass give up? No, they stuck it out for however long.

The trees didn’t uproot themselves and say, “forget it, I’m going somewhere where there’s less crispy and more rain.” They stuck it out, however long.

The healing of the drought rains came. Lots and lots of rain. And, with them, our trees bloomed.

Thank you, Melanie, for “loss never gets old.” I will remember that always and carry it forward for someone else.

Thank you for reading.

Jessica

Different But the Same

July 30, 2022August 27, 2022 / Jessica / 30 Comments

Being at my parent’s house feels wonderful to my heart. As soon as we pulled in the driveway, the ache of being homesick subsided. It came to a screeching halt. There, H O M E.

Familiar, especially after loss, feels like a peace I can barely describe. It’s almost as if bouncing around in the tides of grief for the past four months has calmed a bit.

The house is the same. The yard is the same. The closets, the kitchen, and the flowers outside are the same. The sun rises in the same place. The stars grace the same sky.

But, you know what’s different? The calendar. It’s nearly August now, so it’s not any of or all of the months before March. My momma passed in March…

Home is different, but the same.

It’s comforting. It’s meals. It’s cookies baking in the oven. It’s birds on the feeder and grapes on the vine. It’s trees full of apples and peaches. It’s magazines and puzzles my momma loved. It’s sunsets on the back porch. It’s corn rows by the yard. It’s my dad’s old tractor.

It’s this and that all mixed together in times of past and present. People always say to me that they can’t imagine my loss. Amen to that, I can’t imagine I’m walking this path either, but here I am. And, this week, I’m grateful to be home.

Thank you for reading.

Jessica