Friday (March 6th) would have been my
mom's 70th birthday--that's just a weird concept when she never even made it to
43. I have outlived my mother by several
years now (I will be 47 in July), which is also strange to
contemplate. I did mostly okay with her
birthday this year, some struggles yesterday and today--but overall, it was one of her "easier" birthdays. It's been 27 years--several lifetimes since
I had a mom. This year her birthday was
noted, but I was mostly okay.
Honestly, I am surprised that I did so
well with her birthday this year--it was a big one. Her 50th and 60th saw me as an absolute mess. Plus on March 3rd, I got notice that true to
form, my letter did NOT matter--her murderer will still get another hearing soon. They did not give me a date for the hearing,
but more letters will be needed from friends and family to help keep him behind bars. I
knew this was coming, so I was mostly able to handle this news with acceptance. I
anticipate the hearing will be around Mother's Day as this is when his
hearings typically seem to fall.
I'm sharing another piece of my
week. Thursday night, March 5th, I made
the mistake of finally looking to see to what extent my neighbor had killed the
trees surrounding my home. I struggled greatly as the loggers occupied the woods behind and around my house January 20-23, but it took me until Thursday to be able to go fully see what they had done. In addition
to discovering that the deer had definitely killed my smoke bush (I doubt that
it will be able to come back from their destruction) and my cottonwood tree, I
discovered that the loggers also destroyed the statues and stump at the heart
of my pet cemetery. I am, quite honestly, appalled.
The St Francis statue was given to me
by a dear friend that became a mother-figure to me. She died unexpectedly December 20, 2018--I
was the last person to see her alive. I
miss her beyond belief and still struggle greatly with losing her. The angel was also given to me by another dear friend--again, not replaceable. The
cemetery marker is actually my mom's--I could not afford a headstone, so for
many years, that was the only marker for her grave. I was finally able to obtain a headstone
around a decade after her death, due to a wonderful stone carver that permitted
me to make payments and thanks to a handful of loved ones that also chipped in
to help make that happen. I added her original marker here so that I would have a place to be close to her at home.
I'm not going to lie--despite making it through her 70th birthday, despite my response to the hearing notice--I am
super raw. Or perhaps because of those
things, I am raw--I'm not sure. As a result, I began
crying as soon as I saw the damage done to my pet cemetery and my smoke bush
(the smoke bush is also the grave site/marker for one of my very special ferrets--so that was a hard blow, too). But walking along the woodline and seeing the
trees the loggers took out, the destruction they caused, they mess they thought nothing of leaving behind, I am heartbroken. It's hard to love humans (and deer) when one
is surrounded by the damage that they cause.
I know to some they are just trees and just statues, but honestly, I am
crushed--there's no two ways about it.
My pet cemetery is obviously a sacred space to me. And those that know me well know that trees
are not just "a part of outside" to me. To me they are living beings, they are
friends, I talk to them, I greet them, I apologize to them when humans cause
them harm or disfigure them. My mom told
me when I was little that she suspected I may have been a druid in a past life
due to my unusual bond with trees, plants, and other vegetation. I have always loved trees--they bring me peace--they are part of my healing. Granted, they were my neighbor's trees--I have no say in his actions--but I still hate it. I struggle
with sharing these deep parts of my soul, but writing is my therapy. I am working on healing the best ways that I know how. Quite frankly, losing these trees and statues just compounded my grief and sense of loss over the past week. I don't really expect others to understand, I just needed to release the sorrow somewhere safe...
