Discovering Myself in Other Blogs

One of my "rituals" I perform when I go online for the first time each day is to "google" my name. This is a little like staring at yourself in the mirror to make sure everything is in place and looks good. In my case, I use it to assess my success in search engine optimization and standing in the search engines for my websites, blogs, and various sites where my CD Songbyrd is available for sale and as Mp3 downloads.

Today, while performing this daily exercize, I discovered that one of my posts had been added to The Third Third site, (see www.thethirdthird.com),
a blog for women in the "third third" of their lives. It's managed by a delightful woman, Ann Sentilles, who is the Editor, and I was happy to have her be receptive to posting some of my articles when I first contacted her last fall.

I went to the posting that I found in my google search,
"Deb Adler's blog -- www.debadlersblog.blogspot.com -- deals with faith, music, gender, parents, and more. Here, her thoughts on losing her mother,... "

There, I discovered some paraphrasing and re-writing from my original post. Alas, we "bloggers" become accustomed to having our words published exactly as they are written because we publish them with the click of a mouse button! We forget that in the world of publishing, editors edit.

So once I got past the shock of seeing some "re-organization" of my words, I got over it. I did, however, feel compelled to write a comment because there had been an actual addition of a statement made that was contrary to the experience I was describing.

This is in reference to my November 1, 2007 post, Nov 1st: On the Anniversary of My Mother's Death.

Here's my comment as it appears at The Third Third

I am complimented to be part of The Third Third, however as I read over this post and realize that some of it has been paraphrased and re-written from the original post, I would invite the reader to view the actual post written on November 1, 2007.

This was actually written on the anniversary of my mother's death, not her birthday, as indicated here. It's that day (the day of her death) which has gone unnoticed to me in some years, but for some reason this year was very much prominent in my mind. Hence the blog post.

Most of the poetic license that has been taken here is just a matter of re-organizing my original writing, I guess. That's what editors do. However, there is a statement made here that in the final month of my mother's life, while she was in the hospital, "We talked of everything."

Actually, we talked very little. She was weak and in and out of consciousness. The most important element of our communication during that time was in what was not said. It came with being there. It came from rubbing white gardenia lotion on her hands when she was awake so she could appreciate how nice it smelled and that it made her feel better.

"We talked of everything" is a Hollywood depiction of the end of life, as far as I am concerned. Resolution of conflict and healing of the past doesn't come through words. It comes through action. It comes in a silent presence, it comes in the "unspoken."

This was what my mother and I shared in her final days.

So if you find yourself facing the opportunity to be with a loved one in their time of passing from this life to the next, don't worry about what to say. Just be there. That will say volumes. And whatever you feel is unresolved between you will pass in the silence and be resolved.

I appreciate this exposure to an audience that I might not necessarily otherwise reach. I hope to be featured here again, and I invite you to read this original post and others at my blog, http://debadlersblog.blogspot.com/

Thanks!
Deb Adler

PEACE!

©2008 Deborah Adler. All rights reserved.

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I Want My Mommy! - Postscript

Update to "I Want My Mommy" Post..

I was sitting in the wifi cafe today and the grandfather, little boy and a young woman walked in and sat down at the table near me.

The little boy looked very happy. The Grandfather was orienting the young woman to what the little boy usually orders. I looked over to the Grandfather and said, "Did he get his Mommy back?" He didn't hear me, but the young woman looked back at me and nodded.

I asked, "Are you his mother?" She answered "Yes."

I got up and explained that I had been there the day he found out she was coming home and how he wanted to go to the airport "Right now."

She laughed and nodded.

I extended my hand to her and said "Congratulations. Welcome Home." Then, instead of shaking hands, I hugged her. She leaned right into it, welcoming the "welcoming."

I asked if she was home for good. She said, "well, until the next time."

So she'll probably go back, and once more the little boy will have to be without his mother. Maybe by then, we will no longer be sending mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, sisters, brothers, children or friends "over there."

Let's pray so.

-D

©2008 Deborah Adler. All rights reserved.

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I Want My Mommy!

I'm watching a little boy who has just found out earlier in the day that his mother is returning from Iraq. He is almost inconsolable in the arms of his grandfather. I have seen them together often here, at a local restaurant-wifi spot, where I am sitting as I write this. In fact, I’m usually at the same table and they sit nearby at two stuffed chairs by the fireplace in the center of the eating area.

He’s pretty rambunctious, tends to hang from door handles and tries to climb up the walls, over the furniture, etc. I‘ve felt, with some sympathy towards the grandfather, and then again not, that the boy often gets out of hand. It seems Grandpa just keeps talking to him in this almost monotone, very soothing, but not too effective. Today it all came into perspective.

She (his mom) has been away for 2 ½ years. The little boy wants to go to the airport now and wait for her. Apparently she won’t be in for another few days.

I guessed that he looked as though he might be 3 or 4 years old. “Yes,” the Grandfather confirmed when I asked, “He’ll be four on Oct 20th.”

Seems every time the little boy sees a plane since the news that his mother is coming returning, he breaks into tears. He wants to go to the airport and wait for mommy - NOW! He wants to be there when she arrives. He really doesn't understand why they can't go now. I'm sure he doesn't want to miss her. There is no comfort at this point.

Some people try. A server brings out a cookie. Another woman, a customer, has gone to her car and brought back a coloring book for the boy - having no idea whatsoever what's wrong, but still wanting to help.

“I want my mommy!!!” Through tears and screams.

He was less than 2 years old when she left, I calculated in my head. Then I thought of all the ones who were on their way home and didn’t make it back in those last few precious days of duty. I said a prayer for both of them.

I wonder. How many other children have been traumatized? How many will never see their mommies or daddies again?

For what?

-D

©2008 Deborah Adler. All rights reserved.

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