Random Mewings

I just finished reading a memoir by Laura Fraser concerning a few years of her life titled, An Italian Affair. I expected just a romantic romp through Italy, which is a place I intend to go in the next few years. But it was one of those books that makes you "wake up and smell the coffee"! So many observations she made in the book really gave me pause to think about my life.

I, myself, just returned from a trip to bury my Mother next to my Dad, who died 3 months before. And when I saw the following quote in her book, it put into words the feeling I am currently dealing with. The character was expressing his feelings about loosing his parents.

"Its a strange thing to be an orphan, even at this age, even with a family. You always feel a little bit alone."

The book centers around a relationship a 30-something girl has with a married older Italian man that she knows will never be more than it is. She tries for years to accept and be happy with their emotional attachment and occasional meetings in exotic places. She dates American men along the way and her Italian lover even encourages her to have other "stories", as he calls them. This leads her to make comparisons between Italian and American men.

"Italian men, unlike American men, like to flirt even when there is no chance of any tangible outcome. They just like to let you know, in restaurants and on the streets, that they appreciate women, all kinds of women, that in fact they like women better than anything else in the world, and thank God He made creatures like you. By contrast most American men you've met have more of a museum gift shop mentality about women: What's the point of spending time just appreciating art if you can't take it home with you? .... they want to sleep with you, and they open doors and pay for meals ......"

Another eye-opening thought which I suspect many of us should ask ourselves when we feel we have fallen in love:

"I'm not sure if it was ever really love to begin with, or just a projection of narcissism, the delight of seeing your idealized self reflected in someone else."

And a comparison of a relationship that is pleasurable vs comfortable led to this observation:

"A pleasure you remember long after you forget about whether you were comfortable or not."

And my own observation about love affairs is that I suspect at one point or another you think you will never love that way again.

Eargasm

Eargasm: \ˈir-ˌga-zəm\
The overwhelming joy or excitement that comes when one hears a very, very good song. Song in question may be classified by the listener as “the best song ever” or another related expression.

My apologies to my niece for plagiarizing her blog, but it was so good I wanted to re-blog it!!!
I love this new word. I enjoy music so much that it was a really meaningful new word I want in
my vocabulary.

I am busy finishing up last minute duties for this trip to Texas, as I fly home tomorrow!
~~BIG smile here~~ So not a lot of thought and time went into this blog entry today. Maybe that is why I don't often write; I feel I should have something thought-provoking to say before I put fingers to keyboard.

One of these days I intend to get season one of Grey's Anatomy and then proceed through the following seasons. That would be right after I finish the last 4 seasons of Dr. Who. But until then
I will enjoy this new song which is an eargasm, at least to me.

Mother

Today my Mother was buried. Both parents gone forever in 3 months. I am surprised at the different feelings that wash over me....the thoughts that insert themselves at odd moments...the memories I wish were there and aren't. I sit alone in their home and the finality slowly sinks in. Looking at a house packed tight with things the two of them picked out over the past 65 years. And now it all has to be dispersed to people that will not carry their memories. Why DO we collect so many "things"?

I sat in the limo on the way home and reached deep into my memory bank trying to conger up a memory of just my Mom and me laughing while enjoying a conversation or sharing an experience. I couldn't. She loved me by sewing me dresses (I can still remember a lot of the dresses, even the Snow White one from grade school), making doll clothes and ballet costumes (I loved the snowball costume and hated the leaf costume). But she never played dolls with me nor did she ever dance around the room with me. (What will my daughter think of when I am gone?) Mother had an unhappy childhood and I can finally begin to accept that that was the reason she did not give those memories to me. She had none of those childhood memories herself.

For a person always in control and impeccably dressed and coiffed, Alzheimer's is perhaps the worse disease they could imagine. For 4 years I watched her deteriorate as I made a few trips back across the country to see her. I could finally find the desire within me to put my arms around her to express my love for her; something she probably craved from me her whole life.

I will most certainly have more feelings and insights into my own personality in the near future as my mind wanders back over her past both before me and with me. I do wish for her peace now and hope somewhere her heart is free to be more joyful than it was for the last 82 years.

A large bouquet of red roses were softly laying on her casket and at the end of the graveside service 6 of those roses were taken away. My Mother's parents are buried but a few steps away and 3 of us grandchildren honored her parent's by us each laying a rose on their headstones. I think she would have liked that.