Angels All Around Me

The Salt Kettle ladies all knew that I was dreading the experience of my first Mother's Day without my mom. Nina and I had not given much advance thought to being apart on Mother's Day, rationalizing it away, as "just another day"... Yet we both felt the weight of it, hundreds of miles apart from one another. 

Back at home, in Sag Harbor, Nina went out to brunch with little Daisy at The Bell & Anchor, and the Bartons had them over to dinner. She was with family; but yet, the essence of our family is no longer the same. 


Since December (actually Thanksgiving, when our beloved mom could not come to the Thanksgiving dinner table, for the first time in our lives), we are now with a blank, unfamiliar canvas on holidays. 

We are living our lives in the aftermath of significant change, just "putting one foot in front of the other", as our Marlys had advised.

Today, I thought about the quote from the grief book sent to us by Thrivent, formerly Lutheran Brotherhood. It read,"Grief is a forced redefinition of self". 

How very true; in fact, what an understatement... In situations we encounter, after a loss, we need to make adjustments to our thinking, constantly. This is why they call it 'grief work', I presume.


I had decided to treat myself, as my mom would treat me. She would not want me to experience anguish on any day- and certainly not because of a holiday that she did not relish. 

Marlys would humor us on Mother's Day, by letting us give her Snoopy cards, budding plants and caramel rolls from Tobies in Minnesota. But, as a modest and humble person, she never wanted anything to be about her...

I weaponized myself, first thing in the morning, with strong coffee and half a 'yellow pill'. No, I do not self-medicate on a regular basis- but I know myself. 

Having been a caregiver, I have a keen eye for signs, when symptom relief is called for. My heart was hurting.

I was greeted in the kitchen, first by Janie, with an immediate, "Good Morning, Dahhhling" and a big intuitively-gifted hug. The other ladies in the house followed suit.

During the morning, we had our last visit with dear Emma, who was traveling back to Australia with her son, Daniel. She had purchased a beautiful art book and print, for her son's host family. 

As she wrapped it, in perfect spotty paper, we talked about how much fun we had shared, hopes to see each other again, the effects of humidity on our hair, and even dreadlocks.

Soon, Somers and Sebastian arrived with Daniel. We sat in the living room briefly, and spoke of the regatta.

I thought, how rare it is, to make an Australian friend... It's time to start filling the coin jar for Qantas!  Looking forward to writing 'Smitten with Sydney'...

Knowing that there were many mothers at Salt Kettle,  I expected to see them going out to brunch, and enjoying each other's company. 

What I did not expect, was for everyone in the house to makeshift-adopt-me, and offer endless hugs, kisses, and compassion. What on earth, would I have done, had I not been right here? 

Had I been on a cruise ship, or at a large resort, I would have been isolated from genuine support, with the exception of my telephone.

Marlys was waving her wand.

I hung 'around the house' for most of the day. I avoided church, because hymns would make me cry. I avoided brunches for obvious reasons. Basically, I hibernated and communed with nature. I did what I had to do.

I had planned to buy a picnic, and take the ferry around, while reading Edwina's book of poetry about Bermuda. I also had a Grief Meditation CD from Mayo Clinic handy... 


Yet, as luck would have it, time went fast in the morning hours. After blogging, half the day had passed. The ladies had returned from their brunches.

We sat outside together, chatting with companionship from the resident heron, and a visiting Sting Ray.

Toward the late afternoon, I was feeling strong enough to go out to dinner. I knew that if I went early, there might (?) be less of a Mother's Day crowd. I would intentionally avoid the popular places, in favor of somewhere intimate, that comforts my soul (and tummy).  

While sitting outside, overlooking the water with the ladies, I dialed The Dining Room at Gibbs Hill Lighthouse, and made a reservation for one, at 6:00 pm. 

I would go, eat, drink (!), try not to cry, and come back. Soon this day would be OVER.

Shortly after making my plans, I ran up to change for dinner. Soon, I heard a knock on my door. It was Edwina. "Daisy Darling, Dudley and I would very much like to take you out to dinner tonight, if you do not mind?" 

She told me to pick anywhere, that I would like to go! Not an hour later, we were in a cab together- the three of us, headed to Southampton at sunset.

The Lighthouse was not serving outside that night, but that was just fine. We had a table with a beautiful view. 

The wonderful thing about dining inside a small lighthouse is that you have lovely panoramic views, as you gaze around the room. The views from this lighthouse are spectacular; it is a true Bermudian treasure.

Edwina ordered vegan meatloaf. Dudley enjoyed Spaghetti Carbonara. I had Chicken Parmigiana. All were delicious. More delicious than the food, however, was the company. 

We had wonderful conversation, drank wine, and lived in the moment. They knew that I was in a fragile state; it was a given, and made everything so very comfortable for me. I told them, that they were (literally) "Heaven Sent".

Back at Salt Kettle, the sun had set. The ladies were seated around a table, on the front lawn, chatting and enjoying the night sounds of Bermuda (Tree frogs are medicinal to the ears!).

Lynn was happy to see that I had made a plan to handle my grief. 

Linda told me that she was proud of me. 

Monica and Kim also provided much needed hugs, so that I would feel embraced, as I ended the first of many Mother's Days, without my mother (and best friend).

Nina and I talked twice on Mother's Day, but we had to rely on the kindness of others for comfort, too. 

Even though, we are the only two ladies, who know what it is like to be without Marlys, as a mother, we were geographically estranged.

I believe in signs, as many of you know. 

I do not believe that I was put here randomly, amongst strong women- mothers and survivors of loss, arbitrarily.

I know that Marlys is now my Guardian Angel. She knew that I needed 'back up', and she made sure that I got it. 

At dinner, it happened to be two beautiful, kind sisters, coincidentally dressed in blue...

Marlys knows that I carry her with me- wherever I go- and that, to me and to Nina (and to all who love her), every single day is a day to celebrate her.

My sincerest appreciation to my family at home(and in Canada!) for their love and support during my time away, and to Suzie, Janie, Linda, Monica, Lynn, Kim, Emma, Dudley and Edwina- a.k.a. 'The Salt Kettle Ladies'. Leonora, I wish that you had been here, too!  xoxo