My head may still be swept up in all this dizziness, but a few things have been occurring to me during random moments. To wit:
1. As much as we’re getting word out, the fact that neither John nor I have yet told our families about the publication is rather curious. Or perhaps it isn’t by virtue of the fact that nobody likes to be reminded of ugly, heartbreaking times. Particularly families.
2. One of the first things I hear is how proud my mother would have been of us. I honestly think part of her would have been. The other part of me wonders if she’s cringing because we aired what she called “dirty laundry”. Whenever I think that, I suddenly feel very embarrassed.
3. Re #2 — on the other hand, my mother was a take-no-prisoners type: Just say it. Don’t prettify, don’t gloss. In that sense, no, I shouldn’t be embarrassed. Then I feel angry because why did I spend half my lifetime prettifying and glossing everything whenever I was in her presence?
4. My mother was the undisputed keeper of family stories. She could entertain you for hours, painting pictures with words with characters you could swear had to be fictional. They weren’t. Neither were the stories. For every story she told time and again, though, there were several she either never or barely mentioned. I’ve found out a bit more about them these past couple of years, but for the most part, she was right: She’d take them to the grave before I’d ever know the full truth. Why couldn’t she tell me?
5. Sustained grief: Must make a post about that.
More later. It’s now bedtime (some of us work in the very early AM…)