Beautiful and fitting homage in a way only you can accomplish.
This feels like an awful thing to say but I wish you could get into my head and explain my life to me in a similar way. You have a way of *seeing* that I just can't access. And the words to express what you see in a way I just don't have. I think that's what makes this a beautiful post--you saw your mother in a way that few (any?) can, and you're able to give us a glimpse into that view in words.
And it makes me reflective! What else don't I see? I really wonder.
Anyway, thank you for writing this. God rest your mother, and God bless you and yours.
If I do, it's from Ellen and Roger both; he was serious and she was light, he was systematic and she was poetic, and I was lucky to have both ways of seeing not merely represented but often insisted upon!
Thank you Myles; I really appreciate that. I only realized this week that it was the blessings and prayers of others that had likely guided my life in the ways in which it's been lucky, so it means a lot. And your writing has helped me, so please don't even joke.
You give everything and hold nothing back, Mills. A courage few will ever have. I won’t say the thing I’ve said the last few days that I’m sure has bugged you to no end (and please do not say it hasn’t) but I don’t know what “that word” means if it doesn’t mean seeing someone as they are and trying your earnest best to deal with things as they are. None of us can see as He sees us, so with our eyes too small to the Truth, we make our way as best we can and it sounds like you’ve tried to do that. Best of luck and health to you, Mills. I know it is foolish to wish a scar away, because so much is built on top of the scar tissue, but sometimes I swear I can hear His music and there is still light to see, sometimes, occasionally, this side of Heaven.
You’re the man, man; thank you. I know you know whereof I speak and in fact to a far, far greater degree. And I do have faith, at the moment, but it lives on knife’s edge in me, departs as it will (or as I fail to will, who can say).
I have spent the morning feeling ashamed that I can't bring myself to write my father's obituary. The words are there, the love is there, but I'm struggling to write it... perhaps because I'm too much like him. Your words helped me understand this. Thank you.
My condolences for the loss of your father. I struggled with the obituaries, and the only thing that helped me was to think of them not as "the final word" or "summation" of their lives and beings, but rather as a sort of limited, formal thing: more like a "notice" than a biography.
There's no hope of putting the universes that these people —and you and all of us— are into an obituary, so I did a skeleton of the "boring data" that all obits have, then colored in around that and left it alone. Part of why I wrote this post is that nothing of my relationship with her was in the obituary; indeed, I sort of wanted myself out of it, out of frame. It's for the papers and the people.
I don't know if that's good advice, but it's how I hacked it in the state I was in. Thank you for commenting, and I hope you fare all right through the mourning; and the fact that you worry about it at all —many do not!— is all the proof of love there is.
Welp. That didn't get written without price. So it doesn't get received for free, either. I sometimes wonder if everything sincerely recorded isn't really eulogy. Especially in small things. Inverse proportions apply between detail and import.
I didn’t sleep at all last night; I think I (once again) accidentally wrecked myself, thinking I’m sturdier because the words seem like strong boards and I mistook them for myself.
This is such an enlightened piece. If we can understand and forgive, it opens up the possibility that we will ourselves be understood and forgiven. It's no small thing to be able to express these feelings and share them with others. Thank you.
I'm so sorry to hear that; both of mine had parents with dementia / Alzheimer's, and I have no doubt it significantly informed their decisions. I'll be praying for you and her alike.
Oh, thank you Bailey! That’s very kind of you, and I have to say: mom would’ve loved you and your inimitable and amazing energy. She liked people with personality! The whole damn company is lucky to have you!
Thank you Ken. It was about a three-year spread; I feel guilty accepting any special condolences, as I’m truly not sure it was harder than it is for others, and it may have been easier: I didn’t have to feel “they wanted to live more,” and we had every conversation about life, death, the family, our histories that we could have wanted.
It’s always an explosion or a collapse deep within the psyche, I’m sure, but I suspect if anything it was a slightly smaller one than it typical, crazy as that sounds; the other deaths-of-parents I’ve observed have often seemed, to me at least, harder.
Beautiful and fitting homage in a way only you can accomplish.
This feels like an awful thing to say but I wish you could get into my head and explain my life to me in a similar way. You have a way of *seeing* that I just can't access. And the words to express what you see in a way I just don't have. I think that's what makes this a beautiful post--you saw your mother in a way that few (any?) can, and you're able to give us a glimpse into that view in words.
And it makes me reflective! What else don't I see? I really wonder.
Anyway, thank you for writing this. God rest your mother, and God bless you and yours.
If I do, it's from Ellen and Roger both; he was serious and she was light, he was systematic and she was poetic, and I was lucky to have both ways of seeing not merely represented but often insisted upon!
Oh, and thank you Scoot; you can imagine the way writing something like this makes a person feel.
❣️
Mills, this was utterly phenomenal. I was in tears by the end. Honest to God, this was so good, I It made me want to quit writing.
God bless you and God bless your mother.
Thank you Myles; I really appreciate that. I only realized this week that it was the blessings and prayers of others that had likely guided my life in the ways in which it's been lucky, so it means a lot. And your writing has helped me, so please don't even joke.
You give everything and hold nothing back, Mills. A courage few will ever have. I won’t say the thing I’ve said the last few days that I’m sure has bugged you to no end (and please do not say it hasn’t) but I don’t know what “that word” means if it doesn’t mean seeing someone as they are and trying your earnest best to deal with things as they are. None of us can see as He sees us, so with our eyes too small to the Truth, we make our way as best we can and it sounds like you’ve tried to do that. Best of luck and health to you, Mills. I know it is foolish to wish a scar away, because so much is built on top of the scar tissue, but sometimes I swear I can hear His music and there is still light to see, sometimes, occasionally, this side of Heaven.
You’re the man, man; thank you. I know you know whereof I speak and in fact to a far, far greater degree. And I do have faith, at the moment, but it lives on knife’s edge in me, departs as it will (or as I fail to will, who can say).
I have spent the morning feeling ashamed that I can't bring myself to write my father's obituary. The words are there, the love is there, but I'm struggling to write it... perhaps because I'm too much like him. Your words helped me understand this. Thank you.
My condolences for the loss of your father. I struggled with the obituaries, and the only thing that helped me was to think of them not as "the final word" or "summation" of their lives and beings, but rather as a sort of limited, formal thing: more like a "notice" than a biography.
There's no hope of putting the universes that these people —and you and all of us— are into an obituary, so I did a skeleton of the "boring data" that all obits have, then colored in around that and left it alone. Part of why I wrote this post is that nothing of my relationship with her was in the obituary; indeed, I sort of wanted myself out of it, out of frame. It's for the papers and the people.
I don't know if that's good advice, but it's how I hacked it in the state I was in. Thank you for commenting, and I hope you fare all right through the mourning; and the fact that you worry about it at all —many do not!— is all the proof of love there is.
💟
Along with the piece about your father, this is deep and gorgeous.
Your mum was a beautiful woman. It's generous of you to share both your writing and the photographs.
🙏💖
Welp. That didn't get written without price. So it doesn't get received for free, either. I sometimes wonder if everything sincerely recorded isn't really eulogy. Especially in small things. Inverse proportions apply between detail and import.
I didn’t sleep at all last night; I think I (once again) accidentally wrecked myself, thinking I’m sturdier because the words seem like strong boards and I mistook them for myself.
Always, I try to keep some daylight between me and those boards. Sometimes this is enough to keep the morning vertical.
This is an incredible eulogy, Mills
I cried and read and cried and read.
This is such an enlightened piece. If we can understand and forgive, it opens up the possibility that we will ourselves be understood and forgiven. It's no small thing to be able to express these feelings and share them with others. Thank you.
Well, that was a gut punch, now wrangling with my mother's own tumble into dementia. Thank you, Mills.
I'm so sorry to hear that; both of mine had parents with dementia / Alzheimer's, and I have no doubt it significantly informed their decisions. I'll be praying for you and her alike.
So sweet and sad, like one of my favorite Paul Simon songs
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iUODdPpnxcA
Very Beautiful ❤️ I feel identified, thanks 🌹
this is so beautiful and amazing mills!!! so beyond lucky to work with you and know you
Oh, thank you Bailey! That’s very kind of you, and I have to say: mom would’ve loved you and your inimitable and amazing energy. She liked people with personality! The whole damn company is lucky to have you!
🥺🫶
Devastating, Mills, and so very beautiful.
Mills, I'm sorry for your losses. You lost both your parents in such a short time. Hard for me to imagine
Thank you Ken. It was about a three-year spread; I feel guilty accepting any special condolences, as I’m truly not sure it was harder than it is for others, and it may have been easier: I didn’t have to feel “they wanted to live more,” and we had every conversation about life, death, the family, our histories that we could have wanted.
It’s always an explosion or a collapse deep within the psyche, I’m sure, but I suspect if anything it was a slightly smaller one than it typical, crazy as that sounds; the other deaths-of-parents I’ve observed have often seemed, to me at least, harder.
But thank you of course; I appreciate that.