The To-Do List and Other Incantations

Me and Mom, when perms were in

I have been on a real poetry stint lately. In the last two weeks I read Life in a Box is a Pretty Life by Dawn Lundy Martin, Girl King by my colleague Bri Cavallaro, and Apprenticed to Justice by UWM poet and Wisco’s new Poet Laureate, Kim Blaeser. In Apprenticed, there is a great poem titled “What They Did by Lamplight,” which is two of my favorite things, 1) a visual poem. (The lines form the shape of a lamp.) and 2) a list. It’s all verbs, because it is exactly what the title implies. I haven’t done a piece made of a list of verbs, and I think that’s because a list of what most people do now would be the worst poem ever. This is an awesome poem that works because it’s about the activities of traditional indigenous women in a new world. How lame is this list for instance:

What I Did the Day Before Easter, Wisconsin, 2015

fed Dog, gave Dog medicine, picked up Dog’s poop with a plastic-sheathed hand

drank black coffee, ate Honey Nut

kissed Husband, smelled his hair

lifted weights, worked lats

pretended movement on a machine that imitates movement

sweated a lot

missed my mother, felt sad

snuggled with Husband and Dog

took Husband and Dog to the park, threw sticks, shot video

wiped counter and stove tops, cleaned inside the microwave, scoured the sink

scrubbed boiler plates, swept and mopped floors, watered plants

put off the blog, put off grading papers, put off so much

made snacks

watched the basketball game, drank beer, fell off the veggie wagon and ate a bratwurst

cheered, drank shots of cherry McGillicuddy’s, something called an Egg Nog shot, and

Jameson shots

missed my nephew

hugged my friend

slept in bed until Husband started snoring, slept on couch until sunup

dreamed Dog was eaten by a shark

Doesn’t have the same ring about it. My to-do list would be even more boring and six pages long. Just like every woman, I have an ongoing relationship with to-do lists. Blaeser’s poem and the concept were very inspirational to me this week. But that relationship has changed since my mom died.

It’s been six months since Mom’s memorial, and I’m doing well by getting through the days one at a time. I wasn’t ready for Mom to die. I selfishly looked forward to taking care of her in the end as I always planned to anyway. I set aside three weeks of leave thinking I would spend entire time by her side. Instead I stayed with her two days, spent a week planning/mourning/crying, then went right back to work. Not teaching, but certainly not taking time off. Here’s a sad list I think I need to make:

October 2014, Hospice

bought her a white scented candle

pinned her cards and letters to the cork board

watered her flowers

drink a glass of wine with her

adjusted her pillow

kissed her and said she was a good mother

didn’t know if she believed me

didn’t burn the candle

didn’t read Marge Piercy poems

didn’t fall asleep on the cot listening to Tina Turner

closed her eyes for her

This is so hard. I wish I had talked to people who lost their moms more. I just figured they didn’t want to talk about it because I myself was so not ready for it. But had I talked to my friend Lisa, or my husband's boss Roseanne, or my high school classmate Chelsea, or my cousin Crissy, or even my stepmom Cheryl, they would have told me, as Cheryl did after the fact: you’re never ready. You could be 99 and she could be 150. My advice: count on it hurting like hell. Don’t even try to imagine it, because you can’t.

needs dusting

needs put away

Since then I have stopped making to do lists. I do what’s necessary to get through the day – that day only. I still need Mom. Knowing she’s not there, I can’t see far ahead enough to make a full to-do list. Because a woman’s to-do list never comes to an end, but lives on in perpetuity, oftentimes cycling and repeating like the harvest. Paint toenails. Spring clean. Read. Write. Read. Write. Apply to this job. Apply to that job. Submit stories. Apply for consolidation. Buy lotion. Buy toothpaste. Blah blah blah.

 

all not read yet

Instead I am doing exactly what I need to do from one day to the next. That’s because every day feels like I’m bicycling along a tightrope with a pole across my lap and no net underneath me. Mom was my net.

Don’t worry. I’m not putting things like, take a shower, brush my teeth, get dressed, and eat on a to-do list. Those are givens, and the day they aren’t is the day I go to the doc. I am already putting myself on a vitamin D regimen to prevent that from happening. An excuse to drink orange juice anyway (but not favoring vegetarians much). But I am limiting my tasks to avoid immediate consequences only. Or breaking my New Year’s resolution which is to do this blog every Thursday (with a possible extension to Sunday – happy Easter everyone!).

What follows is both what was on my to-do list in my mind (it’s ever present) and what I actually did:

Easter Sunday 2015

drink black coffee

cling to bed

separate eggs, beat whites into peaks, grind oatmeal with yolks and cottage cheese

remember Grandma, feel sad

brown ham steaks

eat everything drenched in maple syrup

feed Husband and Dog, smile

snuggle with Dog, listen to comedy on TV

blog about my grief

miss Mom, cry a little

go to bed with Husband, who’s feeding me later

dream about meatloaf and instant mashed potatoes

Go Badgers!