Time to let go

In therapy this past week, I talked about needing to move out of anger that I’m holding onto from so much that has happened over the last few years working at my previous job; and, when all was said and done it became apparent that my anger towards that situation is deeply rooted in anger from childhood. From not being apologized to. From not being taken seriously or valued. And every time I feel like I was wronged, it would stir up all those old feelings. Which ultimately means I’ve got to come to terms with the past before I can address the future. 

This led me to think of other ways that I’m holding onto the past. Other ways I haven’t processed things in a way that is causing these emotions to pop up now. And it’s something I really want to figure out because otherwise it feels like I’m stuck in this holding pattern. 

Avoidance has been the name of the game for me for nearly my whole life. And while I think I’m getting a lot better about facing difficult emotions, I know I’ve still got a long way to go. And just because I may be wanting closure from people, doesn’t mean I will ever get it. I have to create my own closure. I have to come to terms with things myself without expecting anything from anyone, and this is very challenging to me. I’ve got to relearn a lot, and I have to figure out how to stop being so reactive, even when it goes against my nature. Because like it or not, not everyone shares my values or operates from the same brain and nervous system. If I’m waiting for that, I’ll be dead long before seeing the result.  

Like pretty much everyone, a lot has changed in the last four years for me. COVID made a dent in everyone’s lives.  But even more than that, for me, I have had to grapple with a degenerative disease that has completely shifted how I do things and what I was once capable of; the death of both of my parents; the loss of my job (and happy place) and friends; and, the loss of feeling like i was moving in the right direction.

 And I realize now—over a year and a half since my mother died–that I haven’t even properly dealt with that. I’ve been essentially running from it ever since. I immersed myself in work at the studio, then leaving that studio and beginning my own. Life then followed that up with my father’s illness and death and trying to hold onto a sinking ship of the studio, helping my brother who was in a hard place, and then my father-in law’s illness and death. Just bam! Bam! Bam! Never-ending shit being hurled my way with no way to stop and breathe.

I’ve come to realize that I really only began my studio as a means to find an escape. To dissociate, in a way. It was a means to put my anger somewhere. To be able to say, fuck you, I can do better. I don’t need you. And while I don’t need them and I am so much better off out of that situation, I truly needed more than anything something I wasn’t giving myself; and, now I think it’s time to.

I need to give myself space. And time. And patience and grace and slowness. I need to let that truly sink in and not turn away from it. Not try to push it away and make excuses for why I can’t honor it. And I need to start now. 

I want to move forward in my life a lot lighter. I’m dragging around these hurts and it’s heavy. So heavy. I literally think about my parent’s deaths every day. And I still feel guilt and regret and sadness and anger about them. I rage internally about not being able to go back and do better, do more. And I ache at how much I miss them and how fucking surreal it still is that they’re gone. And I know grief is complicated and ever changing and yet never truly disappearing. But I need to be able to move forward. I need to be able to see possibilities where now I only see bleakness. I need to let go. 

It’s time I hold space for myself. It’s time to heal.

Why a Turkey Tattoo?

I will start this story by saying that I am not a religious person. I don’t normally subscribe to the belief that everything happens for a reason or the universe/God has a plan. And before my mother’s death, I, admittedly, would roll my eyes at people who would claim to get messages from the great beyond. Because, when all is said and done, I don’t have enough proof to believe in an afterlife. Do I hope that all of my consciousness doesn’t disappear with my last breath? Sure. But signs have always pointed otherwise. Though my mother would likely disagree with me.

That being said, now that I have experienced great loss and am still processing through deep grief, I believe that whatever someone needs in order to feel comforted while they process their loss and navigate through a world so irrevocably changed, they should have that. If it’s not hurting anyone, and if it’s not preventing them from moving forward with their life, what’s the harm? Who the fuck are any of us to judge and decide what’s logical, what’s appropriate, or what’s foolish?

So, as you may imagine, it’s been a very weird transition in my beliefs these last few months. It’s been life altering, losing my mom, and coming to terms with the fact that I know even less than I previously thought about how life and death work. But the one thing that I refuse to feel is embarrassment or shame. I’m going to believe what I want to believe because it brings me comfort. And because I’m walking through each day with this heavy weight upon me, anything that can bring me even a modicum of relief should be embraced. 

So here goes nothing. Here’s the story behind the tattoo. 

My mother is a turkey. 

No, I have not lost my mind completely. No, I know that my mother was not literally a turkey in life. But now, after death, in whatever plane of existence she’s in, I believe her energy has transformed into this being. For what reason, I don’t know. Bear with me, friends, as I explain why. 

Let’s go back a little bit to March, shall we? My mom was hospitalized several times between July 2021 and her death in June of this year. In March, she was hospitalized for the longest amount of time. She was there just over a month before coming home temporarily, having a relapse, getting admitted again for a week and then finally being released to a nursing facility. And while she was there, I made it a point to call her every day. She may not have always been fully cognizant of our conversations. She may not have always been in a good mood. She may not have always been happy to get a phone call. But I called her and spoke to her. Every. Day. 

On one of those days, a deer showed up in our backyard. Now, mind you, I live in the city. Yes, I’m across the street from a park. But wildlife doesn’t just show up all willy-nilly in my neighborhood. But this deer stuck around for hours. I took pictures of it, and talked to my mom about it. She was thrilled. And my mom, who was a believer in all things magical and meaningful, told me that maybe it was a messenger. I’m ashamed to say now that I rolled my eyes and mumbled something like, “Yeah….maybe…” Because, seriously, it was just a deer, right? But my stubborn ass mom just took my skepticism in stride and said, “Believe what you want. But this is a very special thing that happened.” 

We found out very shortly thereafter that my mom had what appeared to be a very large and invasive cancerous tumor. And though we held out hope for as long as possible, it seemed even then that none of us really believed this was going to end well. And it was around this time that my mom started telling me she was seeing her mother in her dreams. That she’d been told to keep fighting. To give us hope. To try to pull through. That we still needed her. And I took this as my mom saying that she was certain she was going to be fine and beat the cancer. But I learned a couple months later it was really my mom trying to prepare us for the end. That her greatest fear was not in death itself, but in leaving us behind. To no longer be that support, that consistency we all relied on. I think she was encouraging us to find something else to look toward. Something else that could give us the strength we’d need to get through this. 

We found out the first week of May that my mom’s cancer was not treatable. That it was too progressive and she was too ill to fight it. And she was put on hospice care a couple weeks later after she was released from the nursing facility. She came home about a week after Mother’s Day, and lived for just under another month after that. She passed away on June 9th, a month before her 71st birthday. My brother was there to witness her final breath, and I rushed over a couple minutes later after he called me. I like to believe that I was there for her soul’s departure. That there was still some brain activity left to know that it was me rubbing her feet and telling her, in between gasping sobs, how much I loved her.

Like Forrest Gump, that’s all I have to say about that right now. 

My mom was never a fan of thinking about or talking about death. Her father passed away on her 12th birthday, and her own mother died of cancer when my mom was in her mid-30’s. So maybe she’d experienced enough death for her lifetime. Whatever her reticence was, it was not something we talked about hardly ever. And her wishes after her death were simple. Cremation and not to be buried in the plot my parents have that’s next to my father’s mother. And so, cremated she was, and her beautiful pink marble urn was placed in a flower planter amongst some of her favorite flowers (impatiens) in our backyard. 

She died at about 4:25 pm on a Thursday, and she was scheduled to be cremated the following Tuesday. That day my kids, father, and brothers were at my second oldest brother’s house about 45 min away having a celebration of her life gettogether. My husband had to work, and so he got home before the rest of us. He texted me when he pulled into the driveway that he’d scared a turkey away with his motorcycle. But once he’d parked, the turkey just resumed its feasting underneath the bird feeder. Now, if you don’t know. I love all animals. All wildlife, but most especially birds. They’re just kinda my thing. And so I was super jealous that Josh got to spend this time with this beautiful female turkey right in our backyard. And that she was not at all concerned about his presence. 

By the time the rest of us came home, she was gone. And I was bummed out by that, but there was no way to stop a wild animal from doing whatever the hell it was going to do. Luckily, the very next morning, very early, as I was feeding my cats, and was about to open the kitchen door to put out birdseed, I looked, and there the turkey was again! My jaw dropped because I’d not expected to ever see it. And again, she was completely unperturbed by me being just a few yards away from her. I watched her for a few minutes before she walked toward the backyard, perched by the swings on the playset my husband built, and then ultimately just vanished. I shit you not, I looked away for maybe 10 seconds, and she was nowhere to be seen. But I was so glad to have seen her. Though it had been less than a week since my mom’s death, it gave me a tiny bit of joy despite everything. 

Now this is where things start getting a little weird. 

On Friday of that week, my oldest brother and I picked my mom’s ashes up and brought her home, placing the urn in the flower planter we’d gotten for her. I’d planted impatiens the day before to put with her. Any time I would chat with my mom about the garden and what flowers to buy, she’d always mention impatiens. And for the longest time I had no idea why. Why those flowers? But as I thought about it when trying to decide on what flowers to put beside her, I remembered that my brothers and I would buy her those from the school flower sale each year. So, I have to guess that they held special significance to her for that reason. The problem is that I could never find those damn flowers to buy anywhere! But on a quick trip for breakfast to the co-op market the morning before she was brought home, there impatiens were. What are the fucking odds, right? I’m not a statistician, so I can’t say with any certainty, but it felt pretty coincidental to me. 

Later on in the evening of the day she was brought back home, as my brothers, Josh, and the kids went to the ice cream shop down the street to get milkshakes in celebration of my mom, I stayed home because I was really achy that day and just felt I couldn’t bear the walk, however short it may be. As I was sitting on the back steps waiting for them to return, guess who showed up? Yep, the turkey again! She and I just spent some time together, she pecking at the dirt in search of some tasty morsels left behind by the songbirds, and me with quiet tears running down my cheeks. And though I was still heavily grieving, this sense of weight lifted from me. A calm came over me, and I honestly just felt soothed by the turkey’s presence. As I could hear my family’s voices coming up the driveway, the turkey fluttered up to the fence, and jumped off and away. 

And that was the last we saw of her. 

For about a month, anyway. 

Fast forward to the beginning of August. Josh and I went to our best friend’s 40th bday party. This is someone I grew up with. I’ve been friends with her for 35 years, so her family knows my family, that kind of thing. And her mother, who is always so damn sweet to me and welcomes me with great big, warm hugs, asked me a little about my mom. And though I thought I had my shit together, I didn’t. And I cried. And I cried some more later on too. It was just one of those days. I’m never mad at anyone who asks what happened or how I’m doing.  It’s not their fault if I cry. But it was just a night that was particularly hard. And I was just missing my mom so much. My friend’s 40th birthday was a stark reminder that my mom would not be there for mine later this month. I remember telling Josh how weird it is to not have a mom. To exist in a world where the person who created me no longer is. And how my mom spent more of her life without her own mother than she did with her, and how I‘m going to (hopefully) live long enough to know what that is like as well. 

My mom was very close to her mom. And she told me often how I reminded her of her mother. And she always loved to tell me stories about my grandmother (she died before I could form lastling memories of her). One of the last things I said to my mother the day she died was that maybe it was time for her to go see her mother. That she probably missed her so much and was ready to welcome her. And I mentioned this to Josh. That I hoped if nothing else, my mom was able to feel the love of her mother again. 

The next day, I look out of the large picture window in my dining room, and there’s the turkey again. Only this time, she brought a friend. Another female turkey was with her. My face must have looked like a child on christmas morning. I was so delighted and surprised to see them. And my son, as we were watching them feast on whatever goodies were on the ground, turned to me and said, “Hey, it’s grandma and her mom.” Like….holy shit. I think you’re right, kid. I was JUST talking about her and her mom, and now two turkeys appear?? Again, what the fuck are the odds? I watched those turkeys for a long while, sitting right in the window. And eventually, because I needed to move forward with my day, I said, “Well, Mom, I’ve gotta go now.” And I shit you not, the one turkey looked up and fucking locked eyes with me for a solid 20 seconds. I have never made eye contact with a wild bird for more than a second or two before. But this turkey was openly peering into my eyes. It seriously gave me chills. And a big fucking smile. 

I know you’re likely thinking I’ve lost my damn mind right about now. Yes, I know that it’s completely irrational to believe my mom’s spirit is in a turkey. But irrational or not, I truly find it brings me peace, especially at times when peace seems to be so unattainable. So I’m going to continue holding on to this little rescue boat as long as I feel the need. 

And it’s not just me that feels the comfort from these turkey encounters. My brother has gone on a few walks and came across a single sturkey and then a duo of turkeys right around the time they appeared in my yard. And when he calls me to tell me how amazing it is to cross paths with a wild turkey, I just tell him to say hi to Mom for me. And because he gets it, he obliges. 

Here’s a fun little fact about my mom’s family. She was raised in a pretty traditional Polish Catholic family. She was one of 6 kids (and my grandmother had three losses), and her youngest sibling was born 10 years after her. But the craziest part of the order of siblings is that my mom’s closest sibling was born just 10 months after her. My mom was born in early July of 1951 and her sister was born in late May of 1952. And they were very close growing up, so much so that they used to share a bed as children and ended up dating and marrying best friends in a double wedding. 

My aunt Toni had kidney problems much of her life, receiving a kidney transplant from one of my other aunts over 20 years ago. She struggled with health issues and ultimately ended up on dialysis during the last few years. And sadly, she passed away just a few weeks ago, just slightly over 2 months after my mom. And according to one of my other aunts, who had been there with her toward the end, Toni told her that “I’ve been talking to Cathy and she said to join us.” I don’t honestly know if I believe that this is possible, though I’m pretty damn sure ghosts, spirits, or whatever you want to call them are probably real. Energy never disappears, after all, it  just gets recycled into the universe. But it is eerily similar to things my mom was saying in her final days. 

I haven’t been close to my mom’s family in decades, but my aunt’s death hit me harder than I expected it to. And from a purely selfish standpoint because it opened that wound of my own mother’s death again. My mom would have been absolutely devastated to know that her sister died. And relatively unexpectedly.Yes, she’d been ill, but just like my mother, the end came far faster than anyone anticipated. And I spent the week of my aunt’s death thinking a lot about her and my mom. And thinking about how if they got what they believed, they’d finally be reunited with their beloved mother. And sure, I imagine their dad would be there too. But considering they were 11 and 12 when he passed, I know they didn’t hold as clear of memories of him as they did of their mom. 

Two days after my aunt passed, Josh sent me a text while he was at work. He wrote, “Why is she spying on me?” and included a photo of three female turkeys hanging out together by the road on his campus. Three. Female. Turkeys. And it’s so very like my mom to check up on Josh too. She loved that man like he was her own. And she was always asking how work was for him, was he getting to ride his motorcycle, etc. So her checking up on him at work is 100% on brand. 

I hope so desperately that this means all of their spirits are at peace. That they’ve found each other. That they’re all finally ok. All three of them suffered from illnesses and fought so fucking bravely. They deserve whatever peace can be offered to them.

And I deserve whatever peace the [presence of these turkeys can offer me. If seeing a turkey brings a smile to my face and quells the sadness that lives deep within me, then who is to judge?

I have to give credit to my husband for planting this seed of an idea in my head to begin with. After that second visitation the day my mom’s ashes were brought home, it was he who said, “Have you looked up what turkeys symbolize?” And I hadn’t because I hadn’t given them much thought with all the other emotions swirling through me. But once I did, I couldn’t deny the obvious similarities. I will list some of what I found below. 

• Forms of nourishment in our life
• Importance of community and family 
• Generosity, sharing
• Having enough in our life, satisfaction
• Symbolic of feminine energies at work in our lives.
• Find contentment in what they have.
• The wisdom of this spirit animal is about paying attention to the people who are part of our life,
• It encourages us to see beyond our immediate personal needs and foster a sustainable relationship with others. 
• Those who have the turkey as a power animal or totem may be inclined to be generous and giving without expecting anything in return.

Anyone who knew my mom knows this describes her perfectly. My mom was not a person to pine for what she didn’t have. She made the best of every situation and appreciated what was in her life. And she was a mom first and foremost. I made sure to tell her before she lost consciousness that I am the mom I am because of her. Because of her example. Her family was her number one priority, even before (sadly) herself. She was our comfort. Our guide. Our source of security and faith. And if she were to ever return to this plane of existence as anything, I believe a turkey is the most appropriate choice. Because just like impatiens symbolize motherly love and devotion, she was so devoted to us that I can’t imagine she would just let us go completely. She’d feel the need to check up on us. To make sure we were getting along ok. That we weren’t falling apart without her. 

We’re ok, Mom. We’re making do. We miss the fuck out of you and love you no less today than we did before. But we’re going to be ok. Because you showed us how to be. You showed us how important our well-being was. And none of us wants to let you down by falling apart. 

I hope to see you again some day. Maybe as my own turkey.