Uncovering the mirrors

Posted by on Thursday, March 11th, 2010

It’s been a year since our dear friend Mike Dobbs died.  I can say without hesitation it was the most difficult year of my life.  Losing Mike, my Mom’s cancer, Scott’s Mom’s cancer, lay-offs, my freak vocal chord injury . . . I know there were other terrible blows, but I  honestly can’t remember all of the hard things that happened.  Through it all, Mike’s death remains the hardest, most terrible thing because there’s no happy ending for it.  No treatment, no cure, no close-calls.  There was nothing we could do to help him, and it felt like there was precious little we could do to help his family.   I can help them share his library, and I can tell stories about how great Mike was, but I can’t correct the “was.”  I’m a fixer, and I can’t fix this.

That said, I hope everyone knows how grateful I am that the rest of our little tribe has been so fortunate since hell started breaking out.  Scott’s Mom Karen is healed and well; my Mom Betty is cruising through chemo and tolerating herceptin very well.  (Her hair has even started to grow back, which hurts a bit.  The things you learn.)  Scott has a better job with a more stable company.  My vocal chord injury healed and, with luck and care, I won’t have that problem again.  But we can’t get our Mike back, and that will always hurt.

This year of grief and worry kept me away from blogging most of the time.  I always intended this space to act as a record of my crafts and my happy times, and while I knew I’d let myself speak of difficult things, I never thought so many things would be so hard for so long.  I didn’t want to worry you, friends, particularly because I thought those of you I don’t know particularly well didn’t need to share or see my grief, and those of you who have eaten at our table or sat at our campfire would worry yourselves sick over just how heartsore I was.  I also found that a substantial number of people unsubscribed right after I posted about Mike’s death.  Honestly, that hurt.  I understand that looking at grief is uncomfortable, but it was the wrong time to be reminded that people want me to be entertaining and nothing more.

I haven’t been making a lot of promises over the last year, for obvious reasons.  But I will say that I want to come back here more often and talk about the things I talk about, and show you the things I make, and remember that letting you know who I am includes speaking of grief as well as happiness.

Filed in Uncategorized | 15 responses so far

15 Responses to “Uncovering the mirrors”

  1. Jennmoleson 11 Mar 2010 at 9:17 am 1

    I am so sorry that happened to you!! I am coming out of lurking to say that I didn’t leave you. I struggled with the idea that the blog was either a place for me to be fun and entertaining OR that it was a place for me to be myself, even when that was not pretty or happy…. Of course, I only have 15 readers and one of them is me…. 🙂 I hope that you come to a place where you get some peace from the blog. Love.

  2. Jaymeon 11 Mar 2010 at 10:54 am 2

    We’ll take you as you stand ‘entertaining’ or not. Everyone has hard times and all should understand that there is a real person behind every blog. I’m glad things are on the mend for you and yours.

  3. Junoon 11 Mar 2010 at 1:31 pm 3

    I think that this place should be whatever you need it to be and whether I say anything here or not, I’m pleased to read anything you have to say.

    I’m so sorry for everything that made this last year awful. Be well. xx

  4. jinannon 11 Mar 2010 at 5:20 pm 4

    Always know that we’re right by your side through it all…no matter what you talk about or need to talk about…whether it’s happy or sad…we’ll listen to it all. {{{Hugs}}}.

  5. --Debon 11 Mar 2010 at 6:29 pm 5

    Here’s hoping that the next year (and the next, and the next) are much, much better.

  6. kon 11 Mar 2010 at 7:19 pm 6

    I wait for Juno, and she’s even more of a slacker than you.

    No, sorry. All there was to do was to stand by and wait. Your trees will call you out again.

  7. gayleon 11 Mar 2010 at 10:12 pm 7

    I’ve missed you, but I understand.
    When my mother succumbed (suddenly) to cancer last year, I dithered over whether to post about it or not. I, too, see my blog mainly as a place to share the happy times. I finally did say something, at the point that I was overwhelmed, but kept the rest of my grief offline. It was hard to hold the line between the me that was in pain and the me that wanted to entertain.
    Last year was hard. May this year be easier for us all.

  8. Rosion 12 Mar 2010 at 7:30 am 8

    Dear sweet Amy, This past year has been a bear, no matter which way you look at it. I for one found that reading your posts kept me in touch with you in a personal way, which is always an honor for a friend. When I saw you, I was able to ask you about the important things in your life, rather than say, “what’s new”? Again, generosity of spirit is a gift. I recognize it in you and accept it with open arms.

  9. minnieon 12 Mar 2010 at 7:42 am 9

    nuts to those who left after Mike died. i like to think that the people i read are friends, and friends don’t bail when times get tough.

    keep your chin up, kiddo, it does get better, and i’ll be here, waiting for when you’re ready to post.

  10. Laneaon 12 Mar 2010 at 8:05 am 10

    Clearly all of the most wonderful people are here–there was never reason to fret. Thank you all. It’s an honor to know you, and to have such a wonderful community.

  11. bibliotecariaon 12 Mar 2010 at 10:20 am 11

    People unsubscribed after a simple announcement when you shared your grief? That’s just — weird. Death is a part of life, even when, or especially when, it hurts. Unsubscribing never even occurred to me. I just felt sympathy, and took a moment to pray for your grief.

    I hope, as this spring starts to creep in, you feel some healing over his death. No, nothing can bring him back, but eventually I hope that the good memories outweigh the pain of his loss.

    Today is the first day that some of my daffodils bloomed. And I can see the irises coming up and the hyacinth coming along behind. Let yourself start to bloom again after the hibernation of winter.

  12. KnittingKittenson 13 Mar 2010 at 7:17 am 12

    You have a wonderful blog and I enjoy it immensely. It is honest. Those that unsubscribe when you share sad and difficult times in your life are not being real. The heck with them! We all have troubles and difficult situations and you handled yours with grace. My heart broke for you when your friend Mike died. And then cancer, layoffs and vocal cord injuries. I am sure you must have thought , “How much more can I take?” You took it all and you are still standing. Be proud of yourself.

  13. Janeon 14 Mar 2010 at 7:28 am 13

    I’m late to the discussion as usual, but I know you know I adore you — so you can write whatever, whenever and I’ll be here to soak it up. I’ve learned so much about being open yet guarded on my own blog, and I’m blessed by all the people — like you — who have stayed with me and helped me through my hard times. I hope you continue to feel the same way, dear one.

  14. Jenniferon 15 Mar 2010 at 9:28 am 14


  15. Erinaon 16 Mar 2010 at 7:16 pm 15

    sending you hugs

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