i was driving up to sonoma yesterday for tolan's second birthday party. the weather was gorgeous and the drive to sonoma is beautiful.

my mind was stuck in the drama from work. i didn't handle it nearly as well as i could have...but i am not doing anything nearly as well as i could nowadays. it is hard — being kicked when you are down.

it is even harder when you don't have mummy to call.

so i was talking to her inside my head and we decided that i needed to just put it all behind me. but i kept going back to it, so we decided that if i would just sing along to the cd player as loudly as i could, i'd probably be fine. so that's what i did.

she liked it when i sang along to the radio. and not because i have a good singing voice. i don't. i think that's why she liked it. because when i was sitting in the car singing out loud, not caring what i sounded like, she knew i felt safe and happy.

so i sang. i sang through a few songs and i started to feel much better. then, john hiatt's "georgia rae" came on. and it happened.

i remembered her before the sickness. and not the logical, in my brain kind of memory...because i can intellectually remember things that happened...this was a visceral memory. it was the first, in-my-soul memory i've had of healthy mummy since she got sick.

and i just cried buckets. so hard that i thought i might need to turn around and go home. (we had a little conversation about that in my head, too. about grace. and that i should turn around and go home if i couldn't pull it together, because the day was all about tolan.)

it was both a sad and happy cry. sad because i miss her so much, i can feel it in my gut. i ache. happy because i was beginning to wonder if i'd ever be able to remember her and any of the good times we shared. and this memory came back. out of the blue. and maybe more will, too.

we shared so many good times. and they were simple times, small, lovely moments, like the one that came back to me when i was driving.

i finally saw her in my head. and not the "breathess, dying - her" or the "dead, with an overstuffed bra and bad make-up - her" but the living her.

so i am adding it to the memories that i can call up in my soul...her hanging onto my toes when i had my feet up on her hospital bed while we watched "ugly betty"...the way she smiled on december 23rd when liam came in and wrapped his arms around her neck and hugged her soooo tight...the way she felt when i curled up in bed behind her when we were watching the grinch...the times when i thought she was asleep and she reached up and held my hand...all of these are so sweet...and they mean the world to me...but in all of these moments she was dying.

now i have this:
i saw her to my left as we were driving up muncaster mill road in her white convertible with the top down. and she was wearing a white cotton hat, like gilligan used to wear. she had these giant plastic glasses over her prescription eyeglasses and she was wearing a polo shirt. i put on another gilligan hat that she had in the car, and i picked up another pair of awful giant plastic glasses and put them on. i don't remember where we were going, but i remember that we were singing "georgia rae" and we were happy and we loved each other so much and we were just happy to be together.

my last voicemail message from mummy

i left work in tears again today. not because of work. (not that work is pretty, right now...i am having an unexpectedly ugly, drama-filled week.) the drama is unfortunate, but i am not shedding any tears over that. i don't mean to be callous, but i've been dealing with so much "life and death" stuff that advertising falls very low on the list of things that might shake my psyche.

yesterday morning i sat down at my desk, turned on my computer and read a message from one of our art directors, marcus, that said that his grandmother had just died.

marcus and i have had quite a few talks about his grandmother over the past few months. he has been going through alot of the things that i went through with mummy. you don't realize until you go through it that no one can give you the answers you need. (his mom is a doctor and she didn't have all of the answers she needed.) all i could do is tell him the stuff that i wish someone had told me. like, if she's stopped eating, the dying is near. chuck gave him opportunities to go back home to spend time with her that he very wisely took.

she had been battling breast cancer for a while and doing very well, but had just started to decline. she was strong almost until the end. he called her almost every day. he felt like it was coming, and we had talked about him going home for the weekend. i had already lined up someone to cover a photoshoot for him. it just came too fast.

they were incredibly close. when he came by to get his stuff in order, it broke my heart to see this lovely, strong young man with his eyes all red and puffy from crying.

his grandmother must have been quite spectacular. he lights up when he talks about her.

today, one of our best account executives had to leave suddenly because it looks like his mother is losing her battle with breast cancer. i hope it's not true. statistically, some people DO survive. i desperately want her to be one of them. i want him to come back and say that this was just an ugly scare.

i think he's probably around 23 years old.

he's another one that lights up a room when he enters it.

i kept trying to focus on the mountain of work on my desk and i'd have tears running down my face. it sucks to lose mom. but i had her for a little over 40 years. it's not fair that he only gets 23. it breaks my heart and pisses me off. (so much for the anger stage dissipating.)

it's been a rough few days. aside from the drama, we've had a more voluminous workload this past week than we've had since i returned 16 months ago.

sadly there is enough real drama in our world. it really bums me out when people manufacture more. i suppose a year ago, i would have been able to muster up the appropriate amount of pathos...but right now i am all tapped out.

if i can just make it to the weekend, i'll head for sonoma for the 2nd birthday celebration of a particularly handsome young man and i will be amongst people i love.

bright, brilliant, lovely, sweet, exceptionally talented friends.

and next week, a fresh start with fresh air and fresh faces.

i'm still fighting my faith, but i end up saying prayers all of the time, so it must be more a part of me than i am willing to admit to myself. yesterday, i prayed for caroline. today i pray for carisa's pete. i hope his surgery today was wildly successful and his healing has begun. and i pray for marcus and his granny and jason and his mom and their families. and i pray for aunt tommie. and uncle jude. i always pray for uncle jude. and for aunt mary anne who could get a job as "the amazing strong woman" if she decided to run off with the circus. i pray for her since she holds so many of the rest of us up.

when mummy was alive, i used to call her and give her the things i needed to pray for and ask her if she would "get on it." (i figure god is much more likely to listen to her than me.) and she used to say that she would, and then she'd tell me that she would "get GoGo on it, too."

so when i was talking to carisa during my drive in, i told her that i would say a prayer, and "get mom in it, too." and then it struck me for a second that i couldn't. but then i remembered that i could.

so the faith is hanging onto me even if i am having a hard time hanging onto the faith.

i really should be in bethany beach. or wandering down some country road in ireland with a backpack and a camera.

really.

the stages of grief

my friend joni sent me an article about the stages of grief just after mummy died. she had just lost her father and was on a path that was parallel to mine.

to quote her, she found it "comforting that there is a universal rhythm to our grief."

in that article they spoke about (5) stages: disbelief, yearning, anger, depression and acceptance.

i think the word 'stages" is misleading because they all bleed into each other. they are definitely not sequential.

i identify much more with the word "shock" than the word "disbelief." i think those two early nights that i had of violent shaking and the feeling that, no matter how many blankets, i was freezing, may have been actual physical shock. the emotional shock is still with me today. i'm not sure if it is less severe than it was a few months ago, or if i have just gotten used to it.

i feel "horror" sometimes, because the picture of her straining to breathe is etched in my head. and when she died, i tried to close her eyes, but i couldn't.

"yearning" is a good word. i ache for her. that stage has not passed.

"anger" is true too. but that is the only one that seems to feel like it is truly dissipating.

"depression" is expected and endured. it's like being carried out to sea by a rip current. if you fight it, you will drown, if you ride it, you will survive.

depression and anger are the only ones that feel like "stages."

"acceptance" is just not happening for me. i think a better word is "resignation." i have not truly accepted that she is gone, but i have resigned myself to the fact that i will never see her again.

right now, my faith is being shaken, because i am not sure that i believe that we will ever be together again in any form. but, like depression, i am riding that current. i don't have the strength to fight it right now, and in my heart, i don't want to fight that battle and lose. i want my faith back. so i will deal with that when i have more strength.

aunt tommie is in a hospital in delaware fighting for her life right now. and i am clinging to what little faith i have left and praying for her swift return to good health.

if you pray, say a prayer for her. say a prayer for all of us.

on memorial day we celebrated aunt jane's 70th birthday. it was lovely. i really missed mom. we all did.

it was good to see dr. and mrs. bodurian, even though we only had time to chat for a minute. we don't know each other very well, but we have a bond that is so strong that it is almost tangible. they both knew and loved mom, and she loved them. and dr. bodurian gave our family a gift for which we will always be grateful. he helped us navigate the waters when mummy was sick. he chose her specialists, he made them talk to each other. he called them all of the time and made sure that she was getting the best effort from doctors who are among the best and the brightest in their fields. during one visit, dr. bobrow told mom and i that ed bodurian had called him up during his weekend at the beach and included him in a conference call with all of mummy's doctors to go over some of the finer points of her care. when it was all over, and we were second guessing everything we had done, we never second guessed her medical care. anyone who has lost someone to cancer will understand how huge of a gift that is.

rebecca, one of mom's "other daughters." was at the party, too. every time i see her, I think that i really need to see more of her. mom was crazy about her.

joshua carty, my cousin johnny's 4th child, is going to be the next steven spielberg.

i love putting cameras in the hands of children. a few years ago, i let joshua and his younger sister susanna take some pictures with one of my better cameras. they both have a really great natural ability. then, i got a video camera and i started making "talk show" videos and interviewing them. josh was anxious to get behind the camera and he has been taking pictures and making videos ever since. he has a gift. (one day, when he is rich and famous, i plan to retire and live in his pool house.)

i had this concept for a "worlds tallest baby" video, so i packed a bag full of mom's tin "houses" and brought them with me to aunt jane's that day.

i told joshua what the idea was, and handed him the camera and he took it from there. he assembled the extras that he wanted for the sound track and gave them direction. he told me what he wanted missy and i to do and he had us do it a few times so he could capture different angles. we loaded everything onto aunt jane's ibook and i edited the film under his direction. we loaded the finished file into hez's wii and had the premiere later that afternoon.

here it is for your viewing pleasure:



it was a beautiful, carty filled day. carty filled days are so good for my soul.

the time at home last weekend was good.

it was good to be home for the long weekend. i had hoped to stay longer but things went haywire at work, and I didn't want to spend my family time on the phone or glued to the computer, so I flew back to california a few days earlier than planned

missy's baptism was lovely. she wore GoGo's gown. this year we will celebrate the 100th anniversary of GoGo's birth. (when liam and seamus were baptized, liam wore the gown and seamus wore the slip.)

it was bittersweet. everything has been bittersweet since mummy died. if she were here it would just be sweet.

i think it hit us all in the middle of the baptism. she should have been there.

but missy was wearing the gown that maura wore and mummy wore and GoGo before her so they were both part of the fabric of our day.



missy was a champ. she shed more tears during her kitchen sink bath that morning than she did when she was trotted out in all of her finery and then subjected to a splash of cold water on her head.

she looks at me sometimes like she has an old soul.



during her baptism, she gave me this look, as if to say, "please, casey, bust me out of here, get me out of this dress and lets have some carrots."

she reminds me of mummy when she does that.

mummy loved this:

i am home again

i took the red-eye last night. missy will be baptized on sunday and aunt jane's birthday celebration is monday. all of the cartys are on their way to maryland. if we are lucky we'll see o'donnells, too. i am so looking forward to seeing everyone.

it is good to be home with maura and missy and beastly. magee is apprehensive about coming home on sunday. she hasn't been back since mummy died. i told her that it wouldn't be as hard as she thinks, because there is something very sweet about being here amongst mummy's things.

i told her that i look for the same thing every time i come home. her shoes. they are in the sunroom where she last took them off. they aren't in the exact spot, because i put them on my feet and walk around in them when i come home.

magee and i have had the same funny relationship with mom's shoes. mom had really big feet. if one of us were running down the drive to get something from the mailbox, or taking out the recycling, she would tell us to put shoes on. and i'm not really attached to shoes. i'd be just as happy running down there barefooted. so she would take her shoes off and say "wear these."

magee's feet are bigger than mine, but when mom did the same to her, she was lost in mom's big shoes, too. trying to navigate the trip down the driveway with boats on our feet was funny.

and i remember that first weekend when she was sick and seeing her shoes on the hospital floor and crying because i never thought she would wear them again. and i remember when she put them on to leave the hospital and crying tears of joy. and i remember the last time she was wearing her shoes because i took them off of her while magee was holding her up. that was december 22nd.

so my ritual is this...i find a quiet moment and i go into the sunroom and i put on her shoes. and then i sit down on the very spot where she died.

today, the sun was coming through the skylight and shining right on me like a spotlight. and i had a little cry. then i had a funny, awkward, boat-shoe walk. and that made me smile.

then i tucked her shoes right by the cabinet where we left them on december 22nd.

today was a good day because i spent it with people she loved. i see her in missy's eyes.

in the depths of winter, i finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.
— Camus