December 28, 2010

So Christmas Day went a lot easier than I thought.  I thought about my mom throughout the day, but I was genuinely happy, too.  I fully enjoyed watching my kids open their presents and having some family & friends over to the house.  There was a void, of course, but it was a good day.

My mom wasn't a very physically affectionate person.  We'd get little pats on the shoulder when we were sad.  But over the past few years, I'm glad I took every moment I could to snuggle up to her, share some space with her on the couch, put my head on her shoulder, or touch her in some other way.  I miss her terribly, but I have no regrets about how I spent the time I had with her.

December 13, 2010

I was pregnant with my first child when my mom was first diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer.  I remember being scared that she wouldn't be around to meet my son.  And then, being worried that the stress over my mom's health would affect the health of my baby (it was my first pregnancy - I could get worried kinda easily).  She survived not only to see him born, but to see my second child, too.  Then, the worry became if she would live long enough for my kids to be old enough to remember her.  That basically became an acceptance that my oldest one probably will and my youngest one might not, but I'm really & truly grateful that they had any time with her at all.

We recently took our kids on a weekend away.  On the way home, we drove through towns that I used to vacation with my parents & sister while I was growing up.  They are bittersweet memories, knowing we won't make anymore with my mom, but such good ones, too.  Times like these, when the holidays are so very magical to kids, were her absolute favorite.  Christmas is my favorite time, too.  So, we soldier on and make the best of this first big holiday without her.

December 7, 2010

So I think I might be going though a bit of an anger phase.  While I'm not mad at my mom for how she dealt with her cancer battle, I do think I'm mad that I'm now here without a mom.  Her battle was not how I would've fought it if it was my battle.  But, I do realize that even if she had gone to a doctor as soon as she realized something wasn't right, we could potentially be in the exact same place we are now.  She fought breast cancer at stage 4 for at least 6 years that we know of.  Her battle was miraculous and her quality of life was pretty high for most of those 6 years.  What I know is that if cancer ever comes to me, I'll fight it as soon as I sense something is wrong.  I won't sit on it and think I can wish it away or ignore it or submit to it.  My kids won't wonder someday, "What if something was done earlier?  Would it have mattered?" 

Christmas is coming - my first big holiday without my mom that will really hurt.  She was such a big part of this holiday - her generosity, her joviality, her cooking of the turkey and/or the potatoes, her presence and her love.  This is the one where I'm feeling it and I'm not liking it.  It was hard decorating the house with gifts I'd received from her.  She always offered to watch my kids while I cleaned the house, to buy holiday clothes for them, to cook so much of the food because I clearly was too busy to do it with small children I had to properly care for. 

I know what I'm lucky & grateful for.   I know my life could be a lot harder than it is.  I know so many people have lived through worse than I have and that for most of my life, I've lived a pretty blessed & charmed existence.  But at the end of it all, I'm still here feeling the loss of my mom, my neverending support system.  I want her back & I'm not at all happy to be here having to heal and move forward without her.  I'm frustrated because I'm not healed, and I don't have my act together.  I know, logically, that this will take time to get back on track and "normal" life.  But I don't want to have to go through this and I hate that it's not something you can ever get fully over - the loss will always be there.  I know that the upside is that she meant so much to me, I'll always miss her.  But that's also the downside - the gap will always be there.  Remembering her isn't enough - I want to stamp my feet and demand to have her back completely healthy and living at least til she's in her 90s seeing grandchildren and great-grandchildren growing up. 

First Entry

So it's officially been two months since my mom died from breast cancer.  At this time two months ago, I was in the middle of making phone calls to other family members and the hospice care people and digesting what happened.  I remember feeling very calm for most of this and offering to make the calls so my dad could have a few last moments with my mom.  I remember feeling that I needed to be strong so I could do this for him.  I would cry in short jags and the few people there when she passed gave great support.

The whole night was surreal.  I'm so glad I was there at the house when she passed and was able to participate in all the after-death rituals.  In a lot of ways, what happened that night was very magical.

And here we are 2 months later and I'm decorating my house for Christmas and I'm missing my mom very much.  Cancer sucks.