Falls

For kids of Cleo's generation, this metaphor will be so archaic, but remember when you had a failing tape deck in your car that would jam, leaving you with one tape, constantly playing over and over and over again?

That's kind of what the grieving process is like for me. Any day now I'm hoping I'll snap out of the grief cycle, but until then, it's just this constant rotating playlist of denial, anger, bargaining, and depression... then a realization will wash over me and bring me acceptance... then start over.

For instance, my mom came up to visit last week. We all had a good time, but there were moments when my mother was holding Cleo that I thought "Wow. I will never be in a room with two people to whom I'm more genetically similar to than right now". This would then drag me down a bit.

My father and mother had been separated for nearly twenty years, and as much as I love the people who entered my father's life since then, it was a panacea to be able to grieve with someone who knows him from back in the day. He was raw back then, and I've struggled in recent weeks to reconcile the raw man who raised me with the refined man who recently passed from my life. It's something I thought I had dealt with, but it's weird how these issues come back out of the ground like zombies, forcing you to fight them again one last time like some Final Fantasy boss who just won't die.


Hearing my mom tell stories about the vacations on the lakes in California, the camping trips to Mount Rainier, or the hike where I got blisters on my feet and my father ran down to the bottom of a mountain to get the van and meet us at a road accessible area along the way all serve to remind me that while he was not always a gentle man, he was ALWAYS a noble one. Something about this realization has helped me put this issue to rest for now (though next week I will probably be writing about the next zombie issue... If there's one thing "The Walking Dead" has taught me, it's that there are always more zombies.)

Thankfully it hasn't been all gloomy. Just moments of it.

It was absolutely exhilarating to demonstrate my "parenting skillz!" to my mom. Remember that BOB stroller I spent a whole post writing about for just getting down the block? Well last week, my mom, Cleo, and I went to Multnomah Falls. I popped open the trunk, flipped that badboy out like it was a pocket knife, and tromped up the path, over steps, up the path to the bridge. I actually wanted to go further, but truth be told, we were chancing it as is. BOB and I are getting along better, but Cleo and BOB are not really friends yet and she gets fussy quickly. So we hung out in the outdoor dining area, eating sandwiches, drinking coffee, and reminiscing while taking turns entertaining Cleo. My competitive nature won't allow me to admit that it was better than reaching the top of the falls, but I suppose I'm willing to say that it was AS good as reaching the top.

Speaking of waterfalls,have
you checked my diaper lately?

The best thing about the trip was to see Cleo's love of nature. She was wide eyed and staring, taking everything in as we walked the path. I expected crying as we got near the falls since they are so loud with mist and spray everywhere. Not the case though. She was fascinated by it.

In truth, though, she is still a bit small for the journey. I find myself frequently conflicted about this. I want to do stuff with her, but many things come with recommended age limits: Stroller jogging (6 months), hiking with her in a backpack (6+ months), or biking with her (12 months!). I get impatient since I want to do this stuff with her NOW. The flip side of this is that it's crazy how much bigger she already is! I can't say that I don't want her to grow up since I enjoy every new ability that she gains (for example: I heard her laugh briefly for the first time today!), but it is startling when I look at pictures of her from not long ago.

However, I find solace in the waterfall, and this one is special to me. It's the same falls that my father and mother and I would stop at on our trips up from California when I was a toddler, the same falls where H and I had our first picnic back when we were dating, and the same falls my daughter gaped at while my mother held her. All of the water is long gone, and yet, it is also still falling. I hope that someday, Cleo while find peace in that as well.