The Blog of Todd Green

I went to a business meeting this morning. Was supposed to go to a conference tonight, but my dad came in for a brief visit so I stayed home. I am not sure if I am just getting older or if my priorities are finally getting in line with my values. I am going to rearrange my schedule more often. Ciao!

posted by Todd @ 10:51 PM

I have been thinking about religion and the role of religious influences in our lives. It seems that some people want to treat the pastor in their lives as a token. They would never think of being without one, but watch out if he tries to meddle in their life. Wow. Speaking of clergy; I saw a sign that read, "An ounce of mother is worth more than a pound of clergy." Amen.

posted by Todd @ 5:32 PM

I guess I have some catching up to do. The past three days have been the same; work and rain. Actually, it is a little more complicated than that.
The past several weeks I have not been myself. In fact, I haven't felt quite right since November of last year. My mother (who two years prior had been diagnosed with ALS) took a dramatic turn for the worse. She died January 7. I know it was for the best. She had suffered so much. It was horrible.
I thought I was dealing (pretty well) with the grieving process, but what I have discovered is that grief is sometimes like a stealth boomerang; it always comes back, and it will always hurt when it hits.
This Sunday is Mother's Day. I think last year (maybe) I sent her a card. I am not sure. I used to not care about such things. I considered them trivial. Not anymore. I used to say on those special days, "I'll just give her a call, I'll send an email. Whatever it takes to soothe my conscience and as long as it does not involve any forethought." Not anymore.
It is amazing how time can heal the hurt and still burn you at the same time. Four months after burying my mother, and I am still wondering if the pain will go away. I am wondering if I sent a card last year. I am wondering what exactly I could do differently if I could go back and re-live the past.

Flashback: Christmas Morning 2002

I had a dream again last night.

They usually go something like this…my mother is in her home, lying in her hospital bed. The breathing machine is attached to her nose. There is a whining, whirring sound of the machine trying to help my mom breathe.

The frail contorted form of my mother lays on the bed that she has not left for over a year. I look around the room. This is a place that I know well.

The pictures that people display always tell a story. The pictures that mom placed on her wall and on the dresser, would always tell you who was in her good graces at the moment. There are pictures of friends and family. There is a picture of my wedding day, my mom and dad standing proudly by their son and brand-new daughter-in-law. There is a picture of my brother on his wedding day kissing his bride. There is a picture of my father wearing his army uniform, looking eerily like Elvis. There is a picture of my grandmother taken during a happy moment, not too long before she died. Oh, the memories.

My mom breaks the silence. “Todd, please get me out of this bed. Please, get me up.” “Mom, you know, I cannot get you up, you are not able to walk.” She is getting upset, “Yes, I can walk, just sit me up on the side of the bed.”

This is impossible. She has a catheter and a breathing machine hooked to her body. Holding her down like shackles on a prisoner.

A prisoner? This sure is an odd-looking prison.

She looks up at me in desperation and trust through eyes that have watched me since I was a baby.

“Todd, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE. Please, oh for the love of God, don’t leave me laying here. I have got to get out of here. I don’t want to die here. Please don’t leave me laying here. Todd, please get me up. Todd, I am begging you to please get me out of this bed. Ohhhhh, GOD!”

It is the voice of absolute agony and torment. She is pleading and crying. It is the sounds of utter desperation; the last cry of hope.

I have had that dream so many times I have lost count. I always wake up crying. I always stumble to the bathroom, wipe my tears, go back to bed and try to salvage what is left of my restful night of sleep. I never tell anyone about the dreams. They are intensely personal and even more painful.

But this dream was different. This time I was at a funeral home. It was a funeral home with all of the things that you would expect with a funeral home. There were big, elegant painted portraits of the owners on the wall. There was a waiting area with finely covered chairs, couches and a big mahogany coffee table. The kind that you put books on in front of a couch…except there were no books.

There was a hallway with people…faceless people…but they were people that I knew. They were people that cared for me. At this point I realized that my wife, Pennie, was with me. She took my arm very gently and started to lead me the way that I needed to go.

Where are we going?

We walked into a room. A big uninviting room, filled with chairs, and an aroma of flowers. I am sure that it was supposed to smell good. But it was a sickening mixture of sweetness and death.

That is what that smell is – the smell of death.

There were people in the chairs and standing around in small groups. Some were smiling, some looked very sad.

That is odd.

They were whispering quietly. They were all facing the same way. There focus was on something yet unseen. I walked towards their focus. The front of the room was filled with pungent flowers. The wall was covered with drapes made pink with lighting that was supposed to be pretty.

Pretty is a term that seems so out of place in this setting doesn’t it?

In the middle of the room was the focal point. It was a casket; white with hand-painted decorative vines and pink flowers that wove around that entire box like an endless strand.

The people stop talking. All eyes are on me. The silence is deafening.

Why is everything so pink?
Why is everybody staring at me?
Where did my wife go?

My mother was in the casket. She was dead.

This is it.

Immediately, I went into planning mode. There was a service to plan, an agenda to make, people to call and a lot of things to do. I started rushing to get everything done.

I did a lot of fast walking. A lot of phone calls. Rushing-rushing-rushing.

Somewhere in the middle of the rushing I realize that the funeral had started.

Rushing-rushing-rushing. Leave nothing undone.

I soon realize that the funeral is over and most of the people have gone.

Oh, my God…

The casket is gone, and I never told my mother good-bye.

Goodbye?

I nearly collapse with the realization that hit me – hard.

I leaned against a doorframe to steady myself.

I have to find a place to be alone.

I walked into a room, I don’t see a sign on the door but I walk in anyway.

I have to be alone.

I open the door. The room is filled with caskets - all open, on display and ready to sell.

There is a man with a bad suit and a fake smile trying to sell a top-of-the-line model to someone trying to grasp their own grief. “It is watertight you know,” he says with a rather convincing charm oozing with fake concern.

I suspect it was a sales-pitch that would work, but I was not sticking around to find out.

I have to be alone.

I walked through the sales room.

Alone at last.

I did not say good-bye.

There is a crushing on my chest. I can hardly breathe. My legs get wobbly.

Oh, it is my wife, "There you are Pennie."

She is trying to hold me up.

Hold on, this is not right. I am supposed to be the one that is strong.

Strong?

I see my mother in a memory. She is walking around in house-slippers. She is wearing a long-skirt, a skirt that almost brushes the top of the slippers. She is wearing a white blouse and a button-up sweater with a v-neck. Her hands are so thin. She is so busy doing stuff for her family.

The grief slaps me back to reality in my dream.

I never got to say good-bye.

The tightness, the heaviness on my chest is almost un-bearable. I still can’t breathe.

I see my mother is a memory. Walking down a hospital hall towards me. She is dressed the same way as before. This time she has a smile on her face as I tell her, “It is a girl mama, Pennie had a girl!”

The fog lifts – the memory evaporates into nothing-ness or wherever it is that memories go.

The intangibleness of life is frightening. And I never got to say good-bye.

Back to present day. I realize now that the dream I had in December was more of a premonition, or at the least a self-fulfilling prophecy. It happened just like that.
Thank God I did get to say goodbye. Or did I really? I feel like I am a little child running after the car that is driving away. In the car is my mom. I am desperately running as fast as my legs will take me. I am screaming for it to stop. I am out of breath. Desperation turns to cold harsh reality. She is never coming back.
Eternity holds her steadfast in the arms of God. I will see her again. We will walk together again. In the meantime...

posted by Todd @ 8:49 AM

Yesterday I became distinctly aware of distractions. The things that slow us down on the way to our purpose. Frustrating, humiliating distractions. Vile stinky trash pile in the middle of the road that I am on. I guess destractions are just a part of life. On this road that I am traveling, I am slowly learning the lesson to stay focused and grounded in the things that matter most, but even my determined focus cannot deter the frustration of the splinters in life known as distractions.

posted by Todd @ 8:53 AM