I went with my cousin to the cemetary last Saturday. I didn't really put much thought into the visit - I've been there a few times now and I like going there. It's a peaceful place and I like looking at the other stones, too, and what people do for those loved ones.
We had a really good visit, but it was rather emotional. We exchanged Mom stories and talked again about the night she died. It was such a powerful & magical night in so many ways and I'm still so glad it all worked out the way it did. But going over it again and talking with someone about what we've lost just stirred up everything again.
That night, my husband & I went out to celebrate my brother-in-law receiving a special award. At the reception, the DJ played Anne Murray's "Can I Have This Dance". My sister, father & I all sang along, and that brought up even more memories - my aunt sang it at another aunt's wedding to my uncle. The singing aunt and that uncle have also passed away to cancer, as did one of my grandmothers. It all just made me miss all of them so much - we've lost so much with their passings.
I was sad off & on through much of the weekend, and because of that, easily irritated & offended until I finally gave myself some quiet time to let it all out. After journaling about it, a visit from my husband to give me hugs & love, and a phone call from my sister to talk about it yet again (and then move on to lighter topics), I finally felt I had let everything I had out. My eyes were very dry for the rest of the night, but I felt at peace again.
I'm glad Mom isn't suffering, but I'm still having those moments of wanting to stomp my feet and demand her back - completely healthy & cancer-free (and never to battle cancer again, of course - I try to cover all my bases with this demand. I've read Pet Sematary - I don't want some twisted version back - I want my healthy, happy, goofy mom back). I'm so glad for all the memories & time with her that we had, but so sad that there won't be any new memories with her. Easter is coming up and for the first time, the youngest grandchildren won't have her there to help find the Easter eggs. St. Patty's Day just passed and since Mom came from the Land of the Leprechauns, that day was a bit tough, too. She was so very proud to be Irish and my kids knew we were visited by a leprechaun because of our connection to her.
In general, I'm still happy. I still enjoy life and am making the holidays very special still for my kids, but that piece is missing and I want it back. I do not like that it's gone forever. For now, though, I'm back to thinking about my mom and smiling instead of crying.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
March 14, 2011
I can't help but compare where I am right now to where I was at this point last year. It was this time (almost exactly to the day) that my mom was hospitalized for the first time. Six years (that we know of) at stage 4 breast cancer and the beast had finally taken a really big blow to our lives dealing with cancer. We'd known for awhile that cancer was changing all of our lives (and none more than Mom's), but up until the hospitalization, there was the ability to be aware of taking advantage of every moment and every holiday we still had together, but still being able to live life somewhat "normally".
I remember Mom was hospitalized on a Monday night because it was my yoga night. I came home from class and my babysitter hadn't left yet and the phone rang and I saw from the caller id that it was coming from my dad's cell phone. I knew a call coming at that time of night wasn't going to be good. And then my dad told me that Mom was in the hospital after collapsing outside their house on her way home from work.
There are so many miracles and blessings that happened that day. Mom was seen driving erratically by a neighbor up the road into her driveway, so we can guess she wasn't the best driver on her 45 minute commute home. Thankfully, she didn't crash on her way home and/or hurt anyone else. Dad actually wasn't home that night because he was helping another friend of theirs, ironically, get back and forth from his own cancer treatment in the city. Mom went to go in the house through the front porch instead of the basement entry like she used to. If that neighbor hadn't been by her window to see the poor driving and then Mom falling down on the porch steps, we would've lost her that night. Instead, we got about 6 1/2 more months with her and again, a lot of that time was decent. Mom worked full time till late June. There were still a good chunk of life she was able to enjoy. Things definitely got more stressful after that hospitalization, and more real, but she was still lucid.
Every holiday became even more special, and I was so thankful for each one I had one more with her. Last Easter, she was still able to go out and help my daughter find eggs. By the time my daughter's birthday got here last July, Mom had been hospitalized 2 more times and time was getting even more precious. I changed my prayers from asking Mom to be here long enough for my kids to remember her to just being here long enough to make it through their birthdays. She made it through my daughter's, and my son's birthday was only a few weeks after that and I started to get nervous that she'd die inbetween the two and my son's birthday would have that dark shadow over it. My birthday is only a few weeks after my son's and I kept offering up my birthday if my mom would just make it through my son's & his party with his friends. In the end, she even made it through mine (and died a month afterwards). She even made it through one more anniversary with my dad (and they got to enjoy a very special day out of the house on a very special trip) before finally letting go.
I'm in a very different place this St.Patty's Day. Last year, I spent it visiting Mom in the hospital and trying to pep her up the best I could to keep her fighting. Our annual family party at my sister's was cancelled so we could all go back & forth to the hospital instead. This year, life isn't on call anymore. I can make plans again without that little escape clause of "unless something else happens with Mom". And that part is a relief, but if I could have Mom back healthy, I'd choose that in a heartbeat. It just wasn't a choice I was given. At the same point, given what we were, I'm still happy with what I did for Mom. I did everything I could balancing caring for her, my kids, my husband, myself, Dad, etc. I did what I could and there's nothing I wish I had done better, more, differently, etc. I love the holidays, but now is when the bittersweet really starts - we're still going through the first rollout of holidays where we can say, "last time, she was still was with us". And with St. Patty's Day it has that extra tinge to it, because my kids know that Mom came from the Land of the Leprechauns and because of her, we have a leprechaun that visits our house and leaves some chocolate gold coins behind.
I remember Mom was hospitalized on a Monday night because it was my yoga night. I came home from class and my babysitter hadn't left yet and the phone rang and I saw from the caller id that it was coming from my dad's cell phone. I knew a call coming at that time of night wasn't going to be good. And then my dad told me that Mom was in the hospital after collapsing outside their house on her way home from work.
There are so many miracles and blessings that happened that day. Mom was seen driving erratically by a neighbor up the road into her driveway, so we can guess she wasn't the best driver on her 45 minute commute home. Thankfully, she didn't crash on her way home and/or hurt anyone else. Dad actually wasn't home that night because he was helping another friend of theirs, ironically, get back and forth from his own cancer treatment in the city. Mom went to go in the house through the front porch instead of the basement entry like she used to. If that neighbor hadn't been by her window to see the poor driving and then Mom falling down on the porch steps, we would've lost her that night. Instead, we got about 6 1/2 more months with her and again, a lot of that time was decent. Mom worked full time till late June. There were still a good chunk of life she was able to enjoy. Things definitely got more stressful after that hospitalization, and more real, but she was still lucid.
Every holiday became even more special, and I was so thankful for each one I had one more with her. Last Easter, she was still able to go out and help my daughter find eggs. By the time my daughter's birthday got here last July, Mom had been hospitalized 2 more times and time was getting even more precious. I changed my prayers from asking Mom to be here long enough for my kids to remember her to just being here long enough to make it through their birthdays. She made it through my daughter's, and my son's birthday was only a few weeks after that and I started to get nervous that she'd die inbetween the two and my son's birthday would have that dark shadow over it. My birthday is only a few weeks after my son's and I kept offering up my birthday if my mom would just make it through my son's & his party with his friends. In the end, she even made it through mine (and died a month afterwards). She even made it through one more anniversary with my dad (and they got to enjoy a very special day out of the house on a very special trip) before finally letting go.
I'm in a very different place this St.Patty's Day. Last year, I spent it visiting Mom in the hospital and trying to pep her up the best I could to keep her fighting. Our annual family party at my sister's was cancelled so we could all go back & forth to the hospital instead. This year, life isn't on call anymore. I can make plans again without that little escape clause of "unless something else happens with Mom". And that part is a relief, but if I could have Mom back healthy, I'd choose that in a heartbeat. It just wasn't a choice I was given. At the same point, given what we were, I'm still happy with what I did for Mom. I did everything I could balancing caring for her, my kids, my husband, myself, Dad, etc. I did what I could and there's nothing I wish I had done better, more, differently, etc. I love the holidays, but now is when the bittersweet really starts - we're still going through the first rollout of holidays where we can say, "last time, she was still was with us". And with St. Patty's Day it has that extra tinge to it, because my kids know that Mom came from the Land of the Leprechauns and because of her, we have a leprechaun that visits our house and leaves some chocolate gold coins behind.
Friday, March 4, 2011
March 4, 2011
So I found myself about to call my mom again this week. I was thinking it had been a long time since I've talked to her and I should catch up. Then I did a head shake and remembered she's gone. I think I have at least one moment everyday where I sigh and tell her I don't like that she's gone. I have to unlearn all the times I'm used to calling her or telling her about something or complaining to her about something (especially that one since I was pretty much guaranteed to always have her on my side, whether I deserved it or not).
Through her death, I've gotten closer with some of her good friends, though. And it's been really neat hearing them talk about her from their perspective as a friend. It's completely different from being her daughter and just fascinating to me. I know my mom wasn't perfect, and I know she made mistakes like we all do, but it's so powerful, too, to know & hear from so many people about how she touched their lives in a positive way.
It's tough, though, too, with each holiday that comes up where it's our first without her. Valentine's Day was a little tricky (though not nearly as tough as New Year's - I've been able to let go a bit more) because she always made sure my kids had some kind of special treat from her. Last year, she found a stuffed, fuzzy, purple heart that she gave my daughter because it was their favorite color. Now, that pillow lies on the floor next to my daughter's bed to catch her in case she falls. I touch it sometimes and sigh and think of what could've been if Mom never had cancer, but am also thankful that at least my daughter has these gifts from her to hold onto.
I cleaned off my bureau recently and I found the last birthday card my mom was able to sign. I can't recycly it, even though there's no personal message, just a "love Mom & Dad" message. It's her handwriting and it was to me - it's a memento that stays. Everything right now gets compared to where we were at this point last year. It was right around this time last year that I came home on a Monday night, relaxed from a yoga class, to find out that my mom was in the hospital. And if a neighbor hadn't seen her collapse outside her house when she came home from work, we would've lost her that night. Instead, we had about another 6.5 months her. And since she was able to celebrate one more birthday with each of my children, I'm eternally grateful for that time.
It's kind of wild to look at the differences between now and then. This time last year was the beginning of the end - life on call - fearing every phone call was The Call. Now, I'm no longer the Angel of Death passing on bad information to relatives & friends. I'm no longer nervous about travelling far away in case I miss something or have to cut my trip short. There's a bit of freedom that comes with end, mixed in with the sadness of letting go. If I had the choice of having her back, completely healthy, of course I'd take it. But being where we were most of last year, that fine balance of trying to fit everything in, what's the best option, how much longer will she last, how to protect & prepare my kids, myself, my husband, was really not a fun year. I'd do it all again if I had to - she was my mom and for all she gave me growing up and into my own journed into motherhood, I'd give her all I could again. I have no regrets, and I'm truly thankful for that. There really were so many gifts we were given on this journey. But I still have this void where she used to be. I think of her everytime I have a cup of tea (proper Irish tea, of course), or everytime my kids do something really spectacular or funny, I feel that little pang of missing her and saying it's not fair.
And I don't know if anything would be different if Mom went to a doctor as soon as she knew something wasn't right with her body, but all I can promise my kids is that I get regular checkups. If I think something is wrong, I see my doctor or midwife. If I ever get cancer, my battle would be so much different, but I know I can't guarantee a different outcome. But I know I take pretty decent care of myself and I do my best to make sure I'm here as long as possible and I can at least give cancer the finger right from the get go. It can never get me without one helluva battle. Screw you, cancer, I want to live. I have kids to raise and future grandchildren to spoil. I want a long, healthy, happy life and I will do what I can to get it. So there.
Through her death, I've gotten closer with some of her good friends, though. And it's been really neat hearing them talk about her from their perspective as a friend. It's completely different from being her daughter and just fascinating to me. I know my mom wasn't perfect, and I know she made mistakes like we all do, but it's so powerful, too, to know & hear from so many people about how she touched their lives in a positive way.
It's tough, though, too, with each holiday that comes up where it's our first without her. Valentine's Day was a little tricky (though not nearly as tough as New Year's - I've been able to let go a bit more) because she always made sure my kids had some kind of special treat from her. Last year, she found a stuffed, fuzzy, purple heart that she gave my daughter because it was their favorite color. Now, that pillow lies on the floor next to my daughter's bed to catch her in case she falls. I touch it sometimes and sigh and think of what could've been if Mom never had cancer, but am also thankful that at least my daughter has these gifts from her to hold onto.
I cleaned off my bureau recently and I found the last birthday card my mom was able to sign. I can't recycly it, even though there's no personal message, just a "love Mom & Dad" message. It's her handwriting and it was to me - it's a memento that stays. Everything right now gets compared to where we were at this point last year. It was right around this time last year that I came home on a Monday night, relaxed from a yoga class, to find out that my mom was in the hospital. And if a neighbor hadn't seen her collapse outside her house when she came home from work, we would've lost her that night. Instead, we had about another 6.5 months her. And since she was able to celebrate one more birthday with each of my children, I'm eternally grateful for that time.
It's kind of wild to look at the differences between now and then. This time last year was the beginning of the end - life on call - fearing every phone call was The Call. Now, I'm no longer the Angel of Death passing on bad information to relatives & friends. I'm no longer nervous about travelling far away in case I miss something or have to cut my trip short. There's a bit of freedom that comes with end, mixed in with the sadness of letting go. If I had the choice of having her back, completely healthy, of course I'd take it. But being where we were most of last year, that fine balance of trying to fit everything in, what's the best option, how much longer will she last, how to protect & prepare my kids, myself, my husband, was really not a fun year. I'd do it all again if I had to - she was my mom and for all she gave me growing up and into my own journed into motherhood, I'd give her all I could again. I have no regrets, and I'm truly thankful for that. There really were so many gifts we were given on this journey. But I still have this void where she used to be. I think of her everytime I have a cup of tea (proper Irish tea, of course), or everytime my kids do something really spectacular or funny, I feel that little pang of missing her and saying it's not fair.
And I don't know if anything would be different if Mom went to a doctor as soon as she knew something wasn't right with her body, but all I can promise my kids is that I get regular checkups. If I think something is wrong, I see my doctor or midwife. If I ever get cancer, my battle would be so much different, but I know I can't guarantee a different outcome. But I know I take pretty decent care of myself and I do my best to make sure I'm here as long as possible and I can at least give cancer the finger right from the get go. It can never get me without one helluva battle. Screw you, cancer, I want to live. I have kids to raise and future grandchildren to spoil. I want a long, healthy, happy life and I will do what I can to get it. So there.
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