May, 9, 2014

So it's been awhile since I felt the need to write.  Most of the time, I live in my happy, bubble world.   Every now and then, I'm reminded that I'm kind of broken and my mom is dead.

I can look at things logically, and know that if I take care of myself, chances are, I won't get cancer and I can live to see my kids get married and be a grandmother, and hopefully, a great-grandmother.  I like living.  I love being a mom.  As hard as it can be sometimes to let your kids go and make their own choices and know you'll always worry about them no matter how old they are, I love this life instead of being under the dirt.

My dad recently sold the house I spent at least half of my growing up years in.  It's a fantastic choice for him and his lovely new wife, but part of it is still weird.  I'm so happy that they will soon live in a place where they don't need to snowblow & clear leaves & mow lawns.  But, it's also very weird that a house I went on autopilot to now belongs to someone else.  I hope they make their own happy memories there because no matter what I grew up with, I knew my parents were always there to give me a home.  I knew that overall, it was a house of love.

It's been a time of change for me.  I've started substitute teaching which has led to dreams of a getting a master's degree and teaching.   It's a new phase, working and raising a family.  It leaves a bit of a hole again where it's a profession  I know my mom would be proud of (and maybe a bit jealous where it's something she always wanted to do).  Most of the time, I feel excited, but some days that hole creeps in.  My sister tells me she feels like she has another mom with my dad's new wife.  She's a lovely lady and I'm so happy they've found each other but I don't quite feel that connection yet.  I don't know if it's that Irish "I'm fine" attitude I inherited, or it's just more time that I need, but I feel like she's a new family member, but not quite like a new mom/stepmom just yet.  It is very possible that I've inherited proctective skills to just keep any new potential hurts out.

It's all a mixed bag, overall.  My mom's sickness & dying make me appreciate so many things I wouldn't have otherwise.  So many things come up in my family's daily lives that seem so dealable since they're not life threatening. I also have more of a focus to take care of myself so I live longer and will hopefully live to see my great-grandchildren.  But when I think about what my mom doesn't get to see from this side of the grave (although I do fully believe no matter what anyone else does that she's watching us from her side), there's a void.  She was my person that always championed me and as she always said, she loved kids & animals, so there's always still a part missing from any triumph we have along the way.  I am very grateful for any love & care we get from where she is, but it's just not quite the same.

February 14, 2013

So here I am 3 major holiday seasons post Mom's Death.  Things have changed and felt more "normal".  I didn't break down crying when I brought out my Christmas decorations and set up my house.  More moments were joyous rather than melancholy, but the loss was still felt.  One of my bins of Christmas decorations was moldy due to a snowglobe that broke inside it somewhere throughout the past year.  My first thought was, "I hope nothing my mom gave me was in there."  Luckily, nothing was.  I still lost decorations I'd've rather kept, but my most precious decorations & ornaments were safe in other bins.  I now have them stored even more securely to make sure they won't fall victim to any other potential storage hazards in the future.  But, having that dead mom reality check, in the end, it's all just stuff.  Even if I lost what I loved the most, time would march on and things would be OK.  Christmas could still be enjoyed - the magic would still come.

Gradually, I've realized that I don't feel that strong need to check on my kids every night before I go to sleep anymore.  When I do, I do still watch their little bodies and make sure they're breathing, though.  I know I'm being a bit over the top, but I like that reassurance of watching their bodies move.  I like how my daughter asserts her independence even in sleep - if I touch her, she brushes my hand away and lets me know she's fine sleeping on her own.  I know my son won't care if I touch him in his sleep or not, and if I do, he'll probably use my hand like a teddy bear, but he'll sleep so soundly, he won't know I was ever there.  I'm glad they sleep so well, knowing their parents are around and looking after them.

I'm getting older, of course, too.  More white hairs are popping up, but they've been coming since I was 17 so I'm used to them.  But again, having a dead mom, if coloring my hair is my worst aging issue, I'm doing really well.  I'm not stressed about turning 40 soon - I'm where I want to be in my life, and it definitely beats the alternative.  I'm glad I can realize this.

There are still moments that sneak up on me, of course.  I was in Macy's recently and saw some clothes I know my mom would've bought if she was still alive.  I stopped for a moment and smiled & teared up at the same time.  But, overall, I've gotten better at accepting these moments, too, and let them come & go as they need to.  I'm thankful for what I have and for what I've learned.  Cancer still sucks, though.  I continue to hope for a cure for all forms at all stages.  I'm the eternal optimist - I won't give up.

December 7, 2012

There are a lot of things that get put into a different perspective after a close loved one dies.  Or, at least this is true for me with the death of my mom.  I pulled out my many different bins of Christmas decorations (as far as I'm concerned, you can't have too many), and one of them fell victim to mold.  I'm guessing one of the dish towels I wrapped a fragile item in wasn't fully dry when I packed it all away after last Christmas.  If my mom was still alive, this would've been a lot more upsetting.  It still sucks - there were things in there I really liked and would rather not have to throw away, but I'm fully aware of it not being the worst thing that could happen to me.  It's just stuff, and luckily, none of it is heirloom items passed down from my mom or grandmother or aunt, or other relative that has died, making it a bit easier to let it go.  In this time of upheaval where I'm hearing from a number of loved ones about much more serious personal or health issues, a bin of moldy decorations is nothing to complain about.  If that was the worst thing to happen in my life, it'd be a pretty charmed life.

November 17, 2012

So here I am, technically on the day after my mom's birthday.   I'm finding the day snuck up on me.  I at first barely realized it was coming, and then I slowly realized my mom would've been 70 today.  And that makes me sad. I went to lunch with my dad to celebrate my mom, and that was all good - we chatted about whatever came up and had some nice Mom memories, but then I saw an older lady being escorted into the restaurant by a younger lady and I thought about how my mom could never reach that point of needing help - she died too young.  And then the other thoughts would creep in - when I had a vitamin, I remembered thinking back to the first time I needed to buy a new bottle after my mom died.  The last time I had bought a bottle, my mom was alive and responsive.  

There are a lot of things that get measured in, "when I last bought this they were alive..."  Things like vitamins, I can't help but think of her when  I take them.

July 18, 2012

It's funny the things that trigger the loss of my mom sometimes.  I recently bought a bunch of marigolds to plant in my garden because my daughter really wanted them.  She doesn't know it, but marigolds always remind me of my mom because she used to buy them every year from the local greenhouse.  Shortly before she died, I asked her if it was because they were her favorite flower.  She said no, it was because they were hearty.  It just makes me laugh & smirk whenever I look at them now.  All those years, and I never knew til the very end.

There are other times when thoughts of her just pop up with no prompting, too.  The other night, while I was trying to go to sleep, I thought again of that first night she came home into hospice care and I couldn't stop crying that day to save my soul.  I went back to that moment when I was in the room with her and I thought she was asleep, only for her to look at me and tell me to stop crying.  I started all over again just thinking about it.  It's a strange thing going through those last days of someone's life and then the whole wake & funeral process.

Mother's Day was another interesting day.  I hadn't been to my mom's grave in awhile - I don't like that close to where she's buried and with two young children to take care of, and only one in school full day, I don't have a lot of time to run back and forth (they could and have come with me, but there are days I just want to go by myself - those are the ones harder to schedule).  I had a very nice Mother's Day and it was a much easier one than last year's when it was our first without her.  But I had a very strong pull to go to the cemetery.  On the way there, I stopped by a roadside mini-greenhouse and looked for some yellow roses to bring with me (turns out that's what Mom's actual favorite flower was).  They didn't have any, so I kept looking for something else I recognized and would do well in a place like that.  The man that worked there very kindly helped me out and I got something I'd never heard of but was pretty.  I figured if Mom didn't like it, she'd find a way to get a strong wind to knock it over, but I liked it.  And then the tears started coming off and on again.

After my cemetery visit, I started thinking about my aunt, the one that had died from cancer shortly before my mom.  And that got me thinking about my grandparents & my uncle - almost all of them also lost to cancer.  So I stopped at the church where their names are etched in stone at the memorial garden and I let out more loss there.  In many ways, this year has been more about feeling the loss of my aunt than my mother.  I think last year was so much about Mom I didn't have room to grieve my aunt.  This year, with the loss of my mom more coming in waves here and there, I've noticed & felt my aunt's absence more.

There are people with worse losses than mine.  I'm very aware of that.  I'm very grateful for what I had, but I still think you're always too young to lose your mother.

March 6, 2012

So I had a moment today where I wanted to just throw a tantrum and let the universe & whoever else wanted to listen that it's unfair.  My daughter was dancing around in her dress & singing a song she made up and I had one of those moments where I thought, "Wouldn't Mom love to see this?".  That moment was quickly followed by, "Well she can't really, she's dead."  But then there's that other voice that pops up and reminds me how lucky I am.  Other people have it worse, and I am blessed to have had the time I did have.  There's always someone who has it worse.

And while it's generally easier for me to cope with the loss of my mom, there's still kind of a stamp on me as someone who has lost their mom.  My son had a playdate recently and when the dad camp to pick up his friend, we started talking.  As the conversation turned to this & that, he at one point mentioned how he didn't know how his wife would cope with the loss of one of her parents because she's so close to them.  We don't know each other well, but he knows my mom died not that long ago, and there was that quick look of someone who's realized what they said and to whom, and the conversation quickly turned again.  For me, it was kind of amusing - I don't begrudge anyone that still has both their parents, especially when they have a good relationship with them.  But it's still that kind of mark where I'm branded as someone who's missing a parent. 

When my mom had first died, I was very frustrated knowing that people were asking my husband and my close friends how I was doing.  I knew that as soon as I left a room, people were asking how I was holding up, or how Mom's death was affecting me.  And again, it was that weird place of seeing both sides of the coin - I knew that it all came from a good, loving place, but I wanted people to be able to talk to ME about it.  It is what it is, and while it sucks and I'd change it if I could, I can talk about it.  It's easier to talk with someone else who's been in a similar place just because they understand it more, but I can talk about it and I don't mind being asked - even if I get a bit teary eyed.  Maybe they'll even help me more by asking since I do still have some of that Irish tendency to just stuff it down and not talk about it.

January 27, 2011

About a week ago, I found out via Facebook that a woman I went to high school with lost her 5 year old soon to cancer.  I just stared at my computer and started to cry.  My kids came into the room and started to ask me their usual questions, so I wiped away my tears and got back to daily life, but there's been a bit of sadness hanging around me since then.  Obviously, it reminded me of the loss of my mother, but it was also that reminder that there are even worse losses.  At least my mom got to live long enough to be a grandmother and to know all of her grandchildren.  Parents aren't supposed to lose their kids.  At least my loss happened in the order it's supposed to happen.  As much as other people with living parents can't fully understand my loss, I know I can't fully understand this woman's.  I hope she & her family find the support & love they need to work through this and to be able to still enjoy the rest of their life.  My heart goes out to them.

There were a lot of facebook postings reminding everyone to hug & kiss their kids whenever they can.  I've always covered my kids with kisses, even when they don't want it, but these postings got me to thinking.  I don't know if I do it because it's just who I am, or because my mom was diagnosed when I was pregnant with my firstborn.  I've never been a mom without knowing that death can come at anytime.  We had 6 years with my mom's illness to make sure we always said, "I love you" and to hug & kiss (although, with Mom being Irish, she wasn't so big on the hugs & kisses - but again, I gave them anyway).  I think her cancer does make me hold my kids more, and I guess that's a silver lining.  I don't live a day where I forget to kiss them or tell them I love them.  Of course, I'd still prefer to have learned that lesson the easy way.  But I'm slowly accepting that there really are things I can't change or stomp my feet and demand to have back.  It still sucks, though.