Friends and Neighbors

Today was the memorial service for my mom and dad's friend, Jim. It was the first service I've been to since mom's. It was about as hard as I expected, and got a little harder when the video montage played and a picture of Jim and Nancy and my mom and dad came on the screen. I think I let out a gasp and then the tears started flowing. My eyes hurt right now. I watched Jim's wife, Nancy, a lot today. She looked so exhausted and beat down. I hurt for her. I plan to stay in touch with her. She is so lonely and sad and I could truly feel her pain. She lost one of her best friends (my mom) and her husband in a matter of months. And you can see it in her face.

I watched the video of a young Jim and Nancy. And in my head I replayed mom's video. A life lived flashed in moments on a screen. The minister mentioned a story when he was standing at a cemetery and a man asked him if he knew the most important part of a headstone...he didn't wait for an answer and went on to say it was the dash between the dates. That dash holds all the life lived, no matter how long or how short. I thought that was pretty profound.

I picture mom showing Jim around Heaven. Just as I pictured my mom's friend Eileen meeting mom when she arrived and showing her around.

I stopped at the cemetery on the way up today and found that mom is getting a new upstairs neighbor (that's the picture above). I also finally stopped to find where Eileen was buried (that's the other picture) and was pleased that she and mom could almost wave to one another. Thus the title of the post...I thought a lot about all the people that have been lost in the last year, including the new person that will be joining my mom in the Pieta at the cemetery. The cemetery was busy with preparation for lots of services today. My mom has joined friends and has friends joining her and new people she had never met in her life on earth.

Yet so many of us have been left behind. And the pain I saw in Nancy's face today was real and tangible and I could simply "feel" what she was feeling.

This is life. Death is part of it. But damn it is hard for those of left behind.

Today was long. It was full of tears. It was full of salt being poured into wounds that I thought were closed, but are obviously still open. I suppose today was just the first of many days like this over the course of my life.

It was a day of reflection. Those can be hard. But they can be good too.

I miss mom a lot today. But I hope she and Jim are laughing a lot together. That thought gives me some solace.

Rest in Peace Jim. You are missed.

Happy Birthday Mom

This year I didn't hunt for the perfect card to tell my mom how much I loved her even though our relationship had it's ups and downs. This year that ritual was very physically absent for me. I have avoided looking at any cards for anything. I haven't wanted to acknowledge that I will never buy another "Happy Birthday Mom" card.

I remember buying her card last year and falling apart because I knew it would be the last one. I remember making her a chocolate cake last year and then getting sick and not getting to spend the day with her. This year, I made the trek north to visit her at the cemetery. Dad and Michael met Olly and I there. I brought her flowers as usual. There were other flowers there...I don't know if someone left them for mom or if they were for Sybil, the woman just below her. I kind of feel like I know Sybil somehow too. I usually say Hi to her every time I visit mom. I know...I'm weird...but she and mom are neighbors. Anyway, not much was said by all of us, but it was good to be there. Dad and Olly and I went out for a nice brunch at Arnie's and then we took dad home and Olly fixed some computer problems he was having.

All in all, it was a good day. And I have survived the trifecta of holidays that I was dreading. My birthday, Mother's Day and mom's birthday. And I'm okay. I'm better. Time is helping. A couple of months ago, I didn't think it was, but getting through these events in one piece has helped.

On a side note, mom and dad's friend, Jim, finally lost his battle with cancer on May 30th. I knew it was coming, but it was still hard to hear. But somehow the idea of mom meeting him at the gates of Heaven and welcoming him in and showing him around made me smile. I know the two of them will laugh a lot together. His service is in 2 weeks. It will be the first memorial service I've been to since mom died. But somehow it's another sign that time has passed. Life (and death) continues.

I am incredibly sad that I will never celebrate another birthday with my mom, but on the way home today, I realized that I should have made that chocolate cake again this year. And I will from here on out for every birthday. She didn't get to enjoy cake for many, many years because of her diabetes. At the end, the cancer took over and she could eat what she wanted. And she never got that cake because I was sick. I'll make it for her every year now and will enjoy it for her. It won't be the same, but it will be in her honor.

Happy Birthday Mom. I love you.

Mother's Day with no mom

Well, my last post was all about my amazing revelations on my birthday. There was a big part of me that was hoping Mother's Day wouldn't be as bad as I was anticipating. Unfortunately, it started out worse than I expected.

I woke up sad and with a headache. As I got ready for the day, the emotions built up even though I tried to keep them down. I checked my facebook page and saw all the Happy Mother's Day messages and started to cry. It just all felt so empty to me and it made me sad. I know I'm a mom and this day was not just about MY mom but also about me...but to me...not having my mom here made the whole day seem hollow.

Then Olly's brother called and wanted to talk to me to wish me a Happy Mother's Day and I completely fell apart. I couldn't talk to him. I didn't want people to wish me a Happy Mother's Day because it simply wasn't a happy day for me. I locked myself in the bathroom and cried until I was nearly hyperventilating. I swear I could "feel" my mom telling me that all of this wasn't necessary, but I hurt...I just hurt so deeply. I hadn't felt that way since shortly after she had died. I felt empty and sad and angry and I just wanted to run. I wanted to be away from people. I wanted to disappear for the day. I just wanted it to go away.

But there's no running away from reality...so I composed myself and decided to go grocery shopping before we had to leave to pick up the boys and head up north. Don't ask me why. I don't know why. I just needed to go somewhere where I was anonymous and could just blend in. What I didn't realize was how many people would be at the store at 8am buying flowers for their moms. And then that just made me even more angry. I picked up my few groceries and headed home.

We left to pick up the boys and I couldn't get rid of the sadness. I was so happy to have them with me, but I couldn't make the sadness go away.

We got to the cemetery and there were so many people there...which I expected. But my hope that I could go and just fall apart didn't work as well because I felt inhibited by all the people there. However, after about 5 minutes or so, I had a good cry with mom and, as I usually do, I felt a sense of peace overtake me. It was good and much-needed in order to help me get through my day.

My spirits lifted a little. I checked my e-mail from my phone and had beautiful messages from several people letting me know they were thinking of me today and commenting on my mothering with such kind words. I have incredible friends.

By the time we got to dad's, I was feeling a little better, but boy, were my eyes just burning and puffy! I asked dad if he'd be open to going to the casino and gambling a little in honor of mom. He said sure so he and I headed off and spent about an hour and a half at the casino (thank you Olly for staying at dad's and watching the boys so we could do this!). It was packed and there were moments when I felt bitter and angry about how many women were there with their mothers and how many women I saw there who were significantly older than my mom would ever get to be. But for the most part, it was exactly what I felt like I should be doing today. I am not a gambler, but mom loved it and I knew that to fully honor her on Mother's Day a trip to the casino was necessary. And I was right. It felt perfect.

Dad and I didn't get any luck from mom and left with less than we came in with...except it was the best part of my day. And that was worth it. :-)

It's 6:30pm now and Mother's Day is nearing it's close and I am grateful for that. Nonetheless, the day did improve from this morning and I'm glad I made the trip up north to be with dad. I don't know when Mother's Day will feel like it's a day about me, but I'm sure it will come in time. This year it was about my mom. And that felt like the way it should be.

I found some wonderful comments about the loss of a mother and the words of these authors resonate with me very deeply.

Christopher Buckley (son of William F. Buckely Jr.) was interviewed by AARP magazine about losing both his parents. The interviewer asked him, "It's been said that the relationship with one's parents doesn't end with their loss, but it does change." and his answer was, "It never goes away, and they never go away. Your parents are your ultimate protectors, and no matter what difficulties you're having with them when they're alive, you can always pick up the phone and hear their voices. They provide a certain level of comfort—just knowing they're there. They're like fire extinguishers mounted on the wall behind glass. You know if it really comes to it, you can break the glass. And now they're gone."

And that is EXACTLY how I feel. Mom and I had our moments. We had our ups and downs, but ultimately no matter where we were in our relationship, I knew that if I needed her, she would be right there on the other side of the phone. That is gone. And I do feel like one of my protectors is gone. My "fire extinguisher" is only half full now...

And Iris Krasnow, one of my favorite authors wrote a column about losing her mom several years back. These are some of my favorite excerpts...you can read the full article here:
http://www.aarpmagazine.org/people/on_my_own_iris_krasnow.html (and yes...I'm spending time on the AARP website...I had to look it up for my Social Gerontology class this term and have fallen in love with it...what that says about me...I don't know...;-))

"She watched my hair turn gray, my arthritis set in, and my four baby boys become teens with stubble. Yet to Helene Krasnow, no matter my age, I was always her little girl. At times now, without her, I feel like one. I'm old enough to be a grandma myself, but this slap of loss leaves me heaving, at odd moments, with kindergarten sobs. No one loves a daughter like her mother—even at times when it doesn’t feel like love, when that love confuses, annoys, suffocates. She is a mirror and an anchor. She is the person I counted on to push my hair out of my eyes, to buffer me from bullies, to lead the way.

After more than half a century together, separating is staggering. Today I grieve for a woman who not only grilled my cheese sandwiches until I was 18 but also grew into my drinking buddy (vodka martinis, slightly dirty, two olives), staunch advocate, staunch adversary, the most loyal girlfriend I will ever have. My mother preserved my whole history as if it were a precious quilt, patching together stages with pictures and notes, keeping the sprawling bolt of fabric intact. And when that primal and seemingly ancient connection was cut, it was like being yanked from the womb again—only it was way tougher than the first time. She grew on me and in me, and the distinction of selves became blurred. We shared a heart."

"What I learned during those final months was that resolving your relationship with your mother while she's alive makes for a more centered, settled self when she dies. With clarity and closure, the jolting passage from girl to woman born at my mother's burial was more emancipating than debilitating. Only when my mother moved on was I able to take the best of her, leave the worst behind, and become an unstoppable blend of the two of us.

Surging with the spirit of Helene, I am surprisingly giddy with a sense of adventure and invincibility that is rising like a phoenix from the ashes of grief. I am relieved that she is no longer suffering. I am released to become an unbridled woman who doesn’t have to please anyone anymore. For as long as I can remember, I would hesitate before making major decisions, gauging my moves on: “Would Mom approve?” Mom is someone else now, the power that fuels me, but no longer my judge. I am free.

I can write my first work of fiction, and it can be the most raw and sexual piece of beach trash anyone has ever devoured on a vacation.

I can wear hippie skirts and unkempt hair and not be greeted with a dramatic eye roll.

I can learn to mother myself; it's about time.

I can be absolutely fearless, since one of my biggest fears has already occurred—I lost my mother, and I am okay.

Each afternoon, I talk to her photograph, a shot of her as a wild-haired teen with a seductive grin. The picture is next to a pumpkin-spice candle, both placed on a silk scarf she adored. By the pungent flicker of the flame, I am awash in certainty that we are one. I wailed when my mom was dying and wondered: “Who will I be when my mother is gone?” Standing on the other side, I am happy to discover who that person is: I am my mother's daughter, an adult woman who will persevere. I could live another 40 years, and she prepared me well to make this voyage without her, however lonely it may get."

Aaaahhhh...I love Iris Krasnow and her words deeply touched my heart in ways that I simply can't explain. It is though she is speaking for me.

I survived another holiday. Honestly, it was the hardest so far. Mom's birthday is next. And then, somehow, I will feel like I have survived it all. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Dad's Birthday, Easter, My Birthday, Mother's Day, Mom's Birthday. Those are the biggees and I've almost survived them all. Mom and Dad's anniversary in September and the anniversary of mom's death in October will be hard, but I feel like today was truly the hardest. And look at me...I'm still breathing. This morning I was hyperventilating, but tonight I am breathing well. I am at peace with the first Mother's Day without my mom as the day comes to an end. I am glad to send it away and wish it well. But I made it through. I honored my mom in a way I know had her smiling.

Thank you to everyone who checked in on me today and let me know you were thinking of me. You have no idea how much those little notes helped me get through today.

I may no longer have my mom, but I have an incredible family and incredible friends and I am blessed to work in a job where I continuously witness women becoming mothers. It's wonderful work.

Term 5 starts tomorrow. It's back to the grind for the next 32 weeks straight. But I can survive anything. I know that without a doubt these days. That doesn't mean I won't stumble, but I will get up, brush myself off, and get right back on track knowing that "this too shall pass".

My mom taught me that...

Happy Mother's Day Mom! I love you!

Pedestals

When I started this blog, it was for me. I know that many people read it now, but I still try to be true to myself and not write for anyone else. Today's post may not be enjoyable for some people to read, but this is where I am today and it's important to ME. So, you've been warned. Don't read any further if you don't want to.

Today is my 41st birthday. I have been dreading this day. I felt a terrible sense of loss looming. I have written about it a couple of times here. I expected that I would feel very sad today on my first birthday after my mom died. No birthday card would be coming from my mom. It would be noticeable. However, I had no idea what would truly be noticeably missing.

I ended up spending 20 hours at a birth that rolled into my birthday. This is the 2nd year in a row that I've had a client have her baby on my birthday. I rang in my birthday at Midnight with a client dealing with a long and difficult birth. And as the clock turned Midnight, an overwhelming sadness took over me. I wasn't surprised. I had plans for this day. I had wanted to go to the cemetery. But I knew that on no sleep, I couldn't drive up there today. It wasn't safe. And I was sad about that.

But by the time I was driving home, around 3:30am, I was feeling upbeat about my birthday. As I drove onto my street, a bright light shone from out of the sky. It made me stop my car and look at it. It was simply the nearly full moon shining through a patch of clouds. But it lit up the sky and seemed to be speaking just to me. I felt something that said it was okay not to go to the cemetery today. That it was not a necessary trip. That today was going to hold something else. Something I needed to experience and honor. It gave me a sense of calm. When I got home, I took a shower and crawled into bed around 4am. I slept for about 2 hours when the boys got up and I rose with them to start my day.

But what hit me when I got up was something I didn't expect. I was feeling something I didn't quite understand. When I woke, my initial gut reaction was, "It's my birthday, I wonder if mom will call me today." That was my reaction because that's what I thought on every birthday during my adulthood. My mom never called me on my birthday. Yes, she sent a card. Yes, she sent money. But she never called. She never went out of her way to wish me a Happy Birthday and over the years, it started to build up. About 4 years ago, it really peaked and I actually didn't talk to mom all day. I normally would cave around dinner time and call her. But 4 years ago I didn't give in and I didn't speak to my mom on my birthday. And it kind of broke my heart.

I can't imagine not talking to my kids on their birthdays. They are such gifts to me. Their birthdays are incredibly important to me. And I'll admit that while growing up, my mom gave me some nice birthday parties. But once I hit adulthood, apparently she just didn't feel the need to even make a phone call.

But she also repeated to me over and over during the course of my life that the day of my birth was the worst day of her life. Yes...she said that. Out loud. To my face. And no, I don't think she was really kidding. And even if she was...why would you say that to your child? Over and over throughout the course of their life?

And this morning...all of that came rushing back in a flood of emotions. And I realized that many of my birthdays were wrapped up in wanting to be with my mom or hear from my mom because I wanted that validation that my birthday was important to the woman that gave it to me. But I'm not really sure that it was. Maybe not until last year. And I'll take that and I'll honor it. And I am grateful for the fences that were mended last year. But it was very obvious to me when I awoke this morning that I have work left to do. My birthday brought a renewal of deep seated feelings. And I thought to myself...today my mom will not call me...not because she won't, but because she can't. And as ugly as it sounds to say it out loud, there is a part of me that feels more comfortable with that today. I have not sat around waiting for her to call. I did not make a pilgrimage to the cemetery to find that connection that I tried to find every year on my birthday. I didn't "need" that this year. I found the connection I needed last year. I do believe many old wounds were healed. But today, on THIS birthday, the day became very noticeably MINE. And in some small, confusing, hard-to-understand way, it gave me a sense of peace on this day alone.

I will go to the cemetery on Mother's Day and I will cry for all I have lost because I DO miss my mom. Terribly. I will go to the cemetery on her birthday and mourn the fact that she will never see another birthday and that breaks my heart. Truly. I miss my mom. I miss what I feel like we were just starting to understand about each other. None of that is changed by what I feel today. But today was freeing in a way that no day has been in a long time.

I read somewhere that when someone dies, we put them up on a pedestal and we remember all the good things and forget the negative. That makes sense. But I also remember reading that there are times during grief, that the pedestal comes down a bit as we start coming to terms with reality and remembering more specifics about the one we lost. I believe today was a piece of that. I think it's actually healthy. Even though it does still sound kind of ugly to say it all "out loud" for the world to see and hear. But it is my truth and this is my blog and it is my birthday and I get to say what I want. :-)

I don't know why my mom chose to have me when she didn't want me. I don't know if she did it because that was what was expected of her. I don't know if she felt she had no other choice. I don't know any of the answers. But she did have me. She did give me my birthday and I honor that today. She raised me well and I appreciate all that she gave me. I miss her dearly. Every day.

But I am taking back my birthday. I don't have to look for her love or approval on this day anymore. And I am making this day mine again. I don't have to sit and wait for her to call anymore and get more and more worked up as the day goes on. This day belongs to me. Today I had many e-mails and facebook messages and texts from friends and family. I feel loved. In years past all those people could have done the same thing and I would still have felt something missing at the end of my day when my mom didn't call. I won't feel that today. Do I feel a hole every single day of my life? Absolutely. But today will be no different. It won't be more of a hole. And it won't ruin my day.

I loved my mom and I know she loved me. That is enough now. It wasn't before, but it is now. Today I let go of all those past years that I let her have control over my birthday. Today I take my birthday back and make it my day. She gave it to me and I love her for that. But for many years I gave her a large chunk of my day. I originally wanted to say she took it from me, but I don't think that's fair. She couldn't take anything that I wasn't giving. And today, I took it back. And that feels good too.

So, I'd like to say I'm sorry if any of this offended anyone, but I'm not. Because these are my feelings and that's what this blog was for originally. And as I take back my birthday, it means not letting my feelings and emotions be controlled by anyone else. That will probably always be a work in progress. But today was a start.

Today has been a good day. It has been a calming day. It has been a birthday like no other birthday has been as long as I can remember. The dread I had for it did not materialize. Yes, something completely different was unearthed when I woke this morning. But it was healing. And healing is good.

So, today I thank my mom for giving me my birthday. I am sure 41 years ago was a pretty terrifying day for her. She was beginning the recovery from a cesarean birth with a baby she didn't really want in a city far away from anyone she knew. I'm not sure I could have done all that. I'm not sure I could have pushed through. And so, today I honor her for giving me this day. And today I also take it back as MY day. My mom gave it to me. But now it's time to take it and make it my own. And I do it filled with love...not anger, not sadness, not grief...but love alone. And for the first birthday in many, many years, I feel complete and utter joy and gratitude to my mom and all those that love me enough to have taken a moment out of their day to let me know they were thinking of me today. I was blessed 41 years ago with the gift of my live. I am blessed today as I have been given a life, renewed. And without my mom I would not have had any of that. And that is the ultimate blessing of all.

Realizations

Olly and I spent the day up at dad's today. Olly got dad's new computer all hooked up so he can finally enjoy it. I'm so thankful to have a techie geek for a boyfriend. ;-)

After spending a day with dad, I realized that he is incredibly lonely and I am trying to figure out what to do about that. I get up there as often as I can. I call twice a day. But it's not enough. I wish I could convince him to get out more, but I have tried with no luck yet. I know it's only been 6 & 1/2 months. I will keep trying. But I'm more worried than I was before. I tried the no worry thing. It didn't change anything. I'm not sure what the answers are yet, but some answers need to be found.

It was a good day and hopefully dad is currently enjoying his new computer. But it was a tough day too. It always seems to be that way when I visit. It is hard to leave.

All of this is hard. It was hard when mom was sick. It was terribly hard when mom died. But it's still hard now. Nothing ever will be the same again. I suppose I already knew that, but the realization is definitely settling in. It's quite possibly always going to be hard. Or at least harder than it used to be. I suppose that's what happens when your parents start to age and you go from being just a daughter to more of a caretaker. I used to call my parents when I had questions. Now I am the one answering questions. My parents used to help me with stuff in my life. Now I help dad. It's a role reversal that came on suddenly. So, maybe I'm just still catching up. I don't mind it. I just worry. I suppose that comes with it all.

My 40th year was an interesting one. Certainly a year of more growth than many of my years. And it is ending with a lot of new realizations. Ones that I would prefer weren't necessary. But they are. I believe year 41 will hold lots of decision making.

I have a picture on my wall that says,

I Dreamed I Had an Interview with God

"What questions do you have for me?"

"What surprises you most about humankind?..."

GOD answered

"They rush to grow up and then...

Long to be children again."

That spoke to me years ago when I bought it. It speaks to me even more now.

Being a grown up really isn't all it's cracked up to be...

Emotions and Grief

I'm still learning. Today's lesson is that extreme emotions (over anything) cue grief emotions. When the tears come the grief and sadness comes with it. Tonight something came up that created stress, worry and sadness. Out of that came anger and loss and grief. And it's hard to dig myself out of it once the emotions start flowing. Maybe it's the build up to my birthday. Maybe it's just the way grief works. I don't know honestly. I just know it's what happens. I'm assuming that will change with time. I'm assuming that all these "firsts" will be harder than the "seconds". All I know is emotions bring up a lot of stuff I didn't realize was there. And once the tears start they are hard to stop. But my hope is that sunrise will bring a new day and a little peace.

Reliving Memories

I just went back and re-read my blog posts from this time last year. God, that was hell. Here's the link for any of you that want to page down and see what April was like last year and this weekend specifically.

http://findingmymom.blogspot.com/2009_04_01_archive.html

Mom was in the hospital. She made it clear she was done with chemo. And I was dealing with reality. It was horrible. It was, and still is, one of the hardest things I have ever been through. 5 days of driving back and forth. 5 nights of having to leave my mom every night so I could come home and be a mom to my kids. The fear of her dying while I was gone...alone in the hospital. But she didn't. Instead she went on to have some good months, but we didn't know that then. It was terrifying.

A year ago, I spent the weekend before Olly's birthday in the hospital with my mom. Today, I pulled off a surprise party for his 30th birthday. It was fun and there was so much laughter. Last year there were so many tears.

Life does go on. That's a good thing.

It's a hard thing too.

Last year on Olly's birthday I raced home from Everett to spend the evening of his birthday at dinner with him and some friends. I was numb. I didn't feel like celebrating anything. I was hurting so deeply. This year I am awake and can feel and can enjoy his birthday.

But then comes mine. And that...in all honesty...scares the hell out of me. I would like to be numb for that one. I knew it was coming. I knew my birthday was the first of three very difficult days...my birthday, Mother's Day and mom's birthday. But it's almost here. And it's carrying some big emotions with it. I can feel them building inside of me. I would like to believe I can hold them off, but they need to come. That I have learned. The emotions are important and they need to come. Like it or not.

But for now...for today...we celebrate Olly's birthday. He stood by me last year when I dropped my life and spent 5 days with my mom. This year I was able to give him something back. And for a day, there was so much to celebrate.

Dad and I had a long talk tonight...full of tears and some laughter too. We're both still struggling a lot. But our relationship has grown immensely and I'm grateful for that. In 13 days I will have my first birthday without my mom. But my dad is still here and I am incredibly thankful for that. I can't pretend it's not my first birthday without my mom, but I won't let that overtake the fact that I still have my dad and I won't waste a birthday with him by being sad the whole day that I don't have my mom. There is a place for that sadness and I will honor that and experience it, but I won't let it take over my day. I have my dad and two beautiful boys and a man that loves me and incredible friends and extended family. I will not let my sadness overtake my joy for all that I still have.

My life has gone on. I can still laugh. I can still find joy. There is so much to be happy about in this world. Those are the things to remember when the hard days come. And they will. And they are just as important to live and experience as the good days. It's just harder to remember that when I'm living the hard days. But that's the beauty of this blog. I can come back here to remind myself of all of that in 13 short days. :-) And I'm sure I will...