Summer's Day

Toward night she walked
with deep conviction of purpose.
Trustfully, and eyes shut blindly, she saw the sun.
Heart-open stride toward the night sun.
Straight into the black she walked.
Toward the end she ran,
seas of hope spilling from her eyes.
Just before the edge
she stopped.
But only to shake down long brown bound hair.
Then off into the night.

by Serin Ball, 1960, (17 years wise).

Where spirits and souls dance.

The morning of Dec 2, I woke next to my mom in living room, my massage table edged up next to her hospice bed so I could be as close to her as possible, and I'm drawn outside by the early light. The power and color and beauty in the sky brought me to tears, made me feel small and light...I remember understanding in that moment that there are forces so much bigger than us and that perhaps this is where spirits and souls dance...and asked out loud in a soft teary voice "mom are you here mom in this beauty? Are you inside in bed and also part out here in this brilliant sky? Is this you transitioning?" I felt a small sense of peace I remember. I was searching for peace amongst the deep ripping of my heart. Then I went back into my make-shift bed next to mom's, put her hand in mine, my head next to hers, feeling her forehead against mine, and silently cried with grief and a small sense of peace. The next day she left her human body.

The days have been too many without you.

I feel you in my heart and hear you in my mind and see you in my movement and know you in everything I do. And there is no way for me to begin to understand that you are not going to walk into your house, not going to call me, wont read my emails, wont write me, wont laugh at my (bad) jokes, wont hug me, wont see me as I go through each and every day from here on out. You are the most remarkable lady that somehow I was fortunate enough to be born to and raised by. I am looking for you everywhere. The days have been too many without you. You are so beautiful mom. Wherever you are. Miss isn't enough to describe what I feel. Its more than a longing. Its as if I need you to complete my breath. I am stronger, deep at my core, because of all the trust you had in me, all the love you gave me, all the care you showered on me, and today I feel my shell, my outerness, my body, weak and my my heart aches. I have all I need to create a new reality for myself, and you gave me all I need to continue to live a full feeling being joyous real life, and I will have you with me always, I know all this logically, but my heart is ruling today, and I ache for you every day, and still every day I search for you. Where are you mom. The days have been far too many to be without you.

Serin Eggling - Celebration of Her Life; January 29, 2012

Deeply loving selfless mom,
devoted daughter, sister,
sage friend,
luminous spirit,
...all that is beautiful.
~Serin Eggling~
6.28.1943 -- 12.3.2011


Serin Eggling, my beautiful mom, took her last breath in my arms on December 3, 2011. She turned 68 this year in June.

I was her only child. She was my only parent. Our bond was one that grew stronger daily like the roots of an old indigenous tree. And yet her capacity to love allowed her to share herself and care for others far beyond me. Her heart had the reach of the sun and so, so many have been warmed by her light.

A celebration of mom's luminous life will be held Sunday, January 29, 2012, 2:00 PM at Montclair Presbyterian Church in Oakland. A remembrance reception will follow just across the courtyard. It would be an honor to have you join me on this special day.

I've been asked by many where to donate in her memory and know my mom would be touched. In lieu of flowers, donations in her name can be made to one of the following, or a cause of your choosing.

--Prescott Circus Theatre:
Online: http://tinyurl.com/SerinPrescottCircus (Donate button on bottom of page)
Mail: Prescott Circus Theatre, 2425 East 28th Street, Oakland, CA, 94601.

--Montclair Presbyterian Church:
Online: http://www.mpcfamily.org/ (Donate button on right of page).
Mail: MPC 5701 Thornhill Drive, Oakland, CA, 94611

For my mom, every day was a new opportunity to find joy and give love. My mom didn't lose her battle with brain cancer, she won by never ceasing to live
life fully, appreciating her family, her community, her life, and finding light wherever she was.

As we travel through the rest of the holiday season and start a fresh new year, I hope all those she touched can hold on to the belief that her spirit and vibrant energy live forever in each of us, in memories, sunrises, sunsets, birds, song, and all that is beautiful.


With loving gratitude,
Vanessa Hammack

Vanessa Hammack, 4606 Dolores Ave., Oakland, Ca. 94602;

Nothing is Real

I just have no idea who I am or what I will feel day to day, hour to hour. Even when I'm being "productive" or doing something I feel is important, planning a celebration of life for my mom, walking her/my dog, cleaning another area in her house to take away the energy or sickness and loss, no matter what I'm doing/being I feel like its all happening in a bubble. I'm inside looking out - not really connected to anyone or anything. Knowing that the world knows I am there but doesn't know how it really is like to be me, to be in this bubble, not know how to reach me even when trying. I took a hike today w/ an old true friend, and her amazing son, and lots of dogs. I liked the smell out the outside, enjoyed the cool crisp air breezing by while winter sun warmed my face and neck. I spotted a single poppy in the hillside. One bright golden orange fully open poppy on a hill with dried browning grass and rocks and dirt. I pointed it out to whoever was near, and realize my mom has been pointing beauty out to me for my entire life. I found myself laughing and playing freely but it felt like it wasn't really me. Like I wasn't really there. Tonight I just walked into my moms office to get something from mom's printer and as if a wave slammed down on me I fell to the ground sobbing. Maybe the dryness of the day or maybe just a manifestation of my grief my nose started to bleed. I was sucked deeper into sobbing and the painful aching crying sounds coming out of me didn't feel like my own. I wasn't me and yet I was so completely my grief which is me. A few hours later I now feel like I couldn't cry if I wanted to. The only thing that is solid, true, and real is my longing to have my mom sitting here with me, in her house, on her couch, with her dog and her life...and me, her daughter, just holding her hand and ready to do anything in the world she asked for. The only thing that I can really know right now.

Middle of night aloneness.

I hesitantly move through my days, tackling what seems most critical but am blindsided by a suffocating longing at every other step. I'm trying to reconnect with the beauty of the holidays but my efforts are overshadowed by heartbreak -- missing my mom. I'm slowly undoing house aids & systems created as I desperately tried to help mom keep her independence & joy in life but with every note, every label, every book, every medicine bottle, I suffer loss over & over while unanswered questions fill me with dark anger. I'm falling into an abyss of despair that I'm fearful has months or years of darkness I must travel thru before ever seeing the light. My small consolation tonight is that w nobody there, no mom there to tell me it's ok, no friends to talk w @ 3am, probably writing one of my last too long a posts for FB protocol, I wailed sobbed yelled & rocked back & forth enough that finally I'm worn out & can sleep. I welcome deep sleep let me rest from the grief.