New Year - Thank God

As I sit here, waiting for 2014 to end, it's hard to forget where I was last year right now. Physically I was here, in almost the same place on this couch. But in my mind I was somewhere else. I was still in my parents' house, where I had been earlier in the day, convinicing my mom to go into the hospital. We convinced her to go, after she spent I don't know how long refusing to see my sister and I and telling my father to tell us to go home. We sat at their kitchen table and told her that no, she wouldn't be on one those machines with the tube in her throat and no there would be no catheter. Little did I know that less than 24 hours - probably closer to 12 hours - after getting admitted that all of it would come true....making me feel like a liar. I still feel like one today.

I feel horrible about that day. And I don't know if I will ever feel normal about this day again. I'll always remember that conversation, her refusal to go, her reluctant agreement to going. And I will always feel badly about it. I think she knew for a lot longer than any one else did that something was wrong. I think she didn't go to the doctor, didn't tell the doctor, because she knew. She didn't want to have cancer, she didn't want to die the way her mother or grandmother did so she ignored it. Which ultimately led to her demise. I wish she was still here but the reality is that unless it had been caught almost two years ago, the outcome probably would have been the same.

I truly hope that 2015 is a much better year than 2014. It started with loss, continued with loss all year long. I am hopeful that the next year will bring happiness and a lot less tears of sadness. I need more happy in my life and I hope I can find it early in the year. I've had enough heartbreak and sadness in one year that I don't think I need more - I can use what I've got to spread through into next year.

Happy new year - May you be joyful, healthy and loved.

19 Days

I want the holidays to be happy, especially for my daughter.  I think I’m doing a pretty good job of keeping my chin up.  Rob and I are back to a happy place again, which is very nice since things have been tense lately for a whole host of reasons – my crankiness being one of them.  I’m not obsessing over things that have happened, although it’s hard to keep those thoughts at bay.  By this time a year ago, I knew.  I knew she wouldn’t make it much longer, and I had told Rob and my friend Brian as much once I left the doctor’s office.  I knew I would have to call my sister and tell her what was going on, and that I thought I had a road ahead of me that was much different than the one that we ended up on. I remember saying that I didn’t want to do this – the phone calls to doctors, the doctor appointments, the tests, the results, the treatments, possible surgery, the hospitalizations,  I didn’t want to do it but I would do it again because it’s my mom and someone has to step up and take care of it all.  I had prepared myself to get to know new doctors, find new doctors, schedule appointments and figure out how to make it work around my schedule  Little did I know what was coming up so very quickly – 19 days later, to be exact.  Although I guess she was really gone before that; the last time I communicated with my mom was January 4^th, the second day on the respirator.  She became unresponsive after that and never woke up again.  I try to find solace in the fact that she looked at pictures of my daughter and listened to the stories of her recent shenanigans and smiled and I hope that she remembers those stories and pictures, where ever she may be.

Right now I’m occupying myself with thoughts of baking and wrapping and cooking and holiday movies.  I’m not thinking about all of the other stuff, or at least I’m doing my best not to.  It’s very hard, impossible at times, to remember those last days with her before she became unresponsive.  I wish I had known that it would go so fast, the time that we had left with her.  I would have done things differently, I would have said and done more, I would have been there more for her and for both of my parents.  But I can’t turn back time no matter how much I want to.

So today, I will do my best to be okay.  Some days, I’m lucky to reach a level of ‘okay’ and today, I’m striving for it.  I miss my mom so very much – its incredible how much I can miss someone who drove me as nuts as she did.  And I wish that she were here this holiday to enjoy it, to celebrate it, and to see the little face of her favorite person on the planet light up when she sees her first bike.  I hope that she is with us that day, somehow. I know that I most likely won’t feel her if she does show up, it hasn’t happened yet and at this point I’m not holding my breath (although some psychic guy on FB told me that I have to believe I will hear from her and not just hope or doubt it because then she won’t come through – I know my mom and if I hope for it, she will most likely do the opposite just to be stubborn and defiant).  I just hope that she’s celebrating the holidays with people she loves, where ever she is and doing whatever it is that she’s able to do now that she’s somewhere else.  I miss her, and I hope she knows that.

And today, somehow, I found Emily’s missing Curious George and blanket by the side of the road.  I have looked there who knows how many times since we lost them the night of December 4^th, and today there he was.  I remember driving past that field so slowly that night, hoping to see them and they just weren’t there – I have blamed myself for almost three weeks and have felt horrible about it, I’ve cried over it.  And I found George this morning, his red shirt caught my eye and I threw on my flashers, jumped out of the car and got him out of the field he was lying in (almost directly across the street from Emily’s school).  And I went back in the afternoon, something told me the blanket was there and it was. Neither look all that worse for wear, which tells me someone dumped them there last night in the hopes that we would find them today – or some parent would find them and bring them to school, thinking they belonged to someone there.  I don’t know what it was, but I have to wonder if this is my mom’s gift to Emily this Christmas.  Today, a year ago, we found out she had a tumor on her kidney, with ‘some spots’ on one of her lungs and 19 days later she was gone.  It’s been 19 days since George and the blanket disappeared, the irony is not lost on me.  Not at all and I have to believe it was her – finally, I hear from her and I couldn’t be happier in what she has done for my daughter.  I’d hug her if I could.

No Expectations

I don’t expect everyone to remember what day my mom passed away. She was my mom, not my boyfriend’s mom or the mom to any of my friends.  So I don’t expect it – but I would expect someone, my boyfriend in this case, to ask if it’s okay that he’s out of town around that timeframe.  He should remember that it was not long after the holidays that she passed and that it might be important for me to do something like go to the cemetery or to church with my dad. He should remember that it was in early January, January 2^nd to be exact, that she went into the hospital and it was just a week later that she died.  But he didn’t.  He booked a trip that weekend to see his kids.  Now granted, he is staying home for Christmas so that I can work both the Friday and Monday after the holiday and he’ll be home the following weekend because flights are just too expensive.  But he went and booked it, no questions asked.  In fact, he was sitting there booking it this morning when I walked up and asked what he was doing and he said booking flights, I asked for when, and that’s when he told me.

And just now, he asked if I can get the babysitter for Saturday – to which I responded I would ask her and I also  need to ask her about the 11^th. He responded only to talk about this weekend, no question as to why I needed her on the 11^th.

I don’t expect it to be an important day to him.  I don’t expect him to sit and look at the clock and feel empty inside, like I did that day when I looked at the clock when I took my seat by her side as she took her final breaths or like I did that morning when we left for the hospital, or like I did walking up to her room, or like I did when I told the nurse to order the morphine (I will never, ever forget that moment. Ever.  And I will never stop remember what it felt like to say those words, and how it feels to have been the one to say them.).  I don’t expect him to cry that day; I didn’t expect him to do anything with me that day at all.  I was going to go to the cemetery, go to the mass my dad is having said for her, and maybe do a little crying along the way. Okay definitely do some crying along the way.  But now, I’m not sure that I can do any of that.  Because it’s not important enough to him to remember it, and it’s not important enough for him to consider.  It’s important to me, which I think should make it at least important enough to ask about.  Again the grief and the mourning have made me feel alone, again someone who doesn’t understand has made me feel like this is my burden to bear.  I didn’t expect him to remember, but it sure as hell would have been nice if he had.

I Miss Vacation

We went on a week-long vacation with family to the Dominican and, I must say, it was lovely.  It was warm while it was cold and snowing at home. It was nice to sleep in, without waking to an alarm.  It was fantastic walking to breakfast and seeing peacocks and flamingos and beautiful flowers blooming everywhere. Sure there were toddler tantrums and judgmental sister-in-law issues but whatever – I was in the sun, in the pool, and I had a cold adult beverage whenever I needed or wanted one.  And there was barely a hint of the impending holidays which may have been my favorite part, aside from the free drinks at the pool of course.

As soon as we got home, literally on the way home, it hit me that it wasn’t the summer, fun time was over – it was Christmas time, and I needed to stare it in the face as the flickering lights and reindeer and snowmen lit up the highway.  I cried.  It was hard not to, remembering all that I had in front of me.  And I have tried to avoid it all, very much on purpose, because I don’t want to deal with it.  I don’t want to remember last year’s holiday, I don’t want to remember that I have to go through this year without my mom and with the family that is still mourning her.  I don’t want to start a new Christmas tradition of missing her annual lasagna, although I guess that started last year.  I just don’t want to deal with it.

But – I have to.  I have a child who deserves a happy holiday. I have a significant other that deserves the same, and a family who deserves to at least see me attempt to be jolly.  I have to do my best to not look at the date, to not remember what I was dealing with just 365 days ago, and to not focus on the fact that she’s not here.  It’ll all be okay once I’m on the other side of all of this – which is February, but still.  And yes, if I could sleep and/or drink my way all the way through all of it I would do that happily, but I can’t.  My job frowns upon drunkenness in the workplace (bastards).  I struggle with the idea of a Christmas tree with lights, I struggle with the idea of decorating while watching a Charlie Brown Christmas; I struggle because of the memories she won’t be a part of anymore.  The ones that I have I’ll continue to hold onto, but there won’t be any more stories of how excited Emily was when she opened a certain gift and how happy that made my mom.  There will be no stories of how happy my mom was to see Emily eat her lasagna and ask for seconds and thirds.  That makes my heart and my head and everywhere in between sad.  But I have to suck it up, at least on some level, and make sure that the holiday is as happy as it can be (I type this as one of my mom’s favorite Christmas songs – The Christmas Song sung by Nat King Cole – plays on my radio.  I miss my mom, not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about her and missed her.  I would lying if I said that I didn’t almost cry at least once while on vacation and I tried to pretend I was talking to my mom when I told him all the details about the vacation (I normally would gloss over the details for him because he doesn’t really care, while she wanted to hear all about everything and everyone, so I tried to find a happy medium for myself).  I wish she was here; I know I can’t bring her back, I know that I can’t change what happened and I know that even if she was diagnosed earlier she most likely wouldn’t be here now.  But it doesn’t make it hurt less.  And it doesn’t make it easier.  The Christmas songs hurt, the decorations hurt, it all hurts.  I guess I just have to find a way to make it hurt as little as possible, or at least make everyone think that I’m not hurting as much as I am.

Gee, thanks Hallmark

I can add Hallmark to my list of stores I’ve cried in in the last week.  That was me, the girl in the aisle looking at ornaments and then some other stuff – what, I don’t remember – with tears in her eyes who, at one point, had to take out a tissue.  A very old tissue, at that.  Yeah, that was me.  It’s December 1^stand while the world is merrily hanging up their lights, putting up their trees, taking out the Menorahs and candles, I’m crying in Hallmark.  Yeah, happy holidays indeed.

I wasn’t walking around there on purpose, searching for some item to make me cry.  Hi, it’s hard to avoid the big MOM sign directly next to the Dad cards.  I didn’t pick any up, I didn’t even read any of the fronts.  Knowing that they were there, and this year I wouldn’t be buying one, was enough; its actually a very strange feeling to know that I won’t buy one.  Seeing the ornaments that I would have bought for her – she loved Tigger from Winnie the Pooh – and smelling the candles that she loved was also enough (I didn’t actually pick any of those up either, the smell is quite strong over by where the ornaments are).  Anything that had “Grandma” written on it was just icing on the cake.

I can’t believe it’s already December.  How did we get here already??  Sometimes it feels like just yesterday I was fighting with her over going to the doctor, making the CT appointment, ranting to my sister about how stubborn she was.  But it wasn’t just yesterday.  It wasn’t just yesterday that I heard her voice for the last time, or that I saw her light up when my daughter walked into the house.  And it wasn’t just yesterday that I knew she wouldn’t be here now.  It was almost a year ago, and that’s a tough pill to swallow.  I know that my journey is far from over; this is a life-long road and things will become manageable, things will become easier in some regards but they will never be “okay”, they will never be “normal” again.  Both are long gone; I left them in that hospital room, in that funeral home, in that mausoleum.  I think they left the building when I told the nurse to order the morphine; I’m pretty sure that’s the moment my “normal” went away.  And where I am now on this journey is a place that feels all too familiar – I am sad a lot, I am difficult a lot, I am a bitch a lot even though I don’t mean to be. I replay those days in my head, feeling guilty for not doing enough or for the things that I had to do because no one else could.   I feel alone a lot, and I cry a lot more than I have in a while.  I’ve been here before (maybe this is a bad real-life version of Monopoly and I just got sent to Jail).  I’m hoping that this time around, I come out the other side a bit more relieved, a bit happier, a bit more myself than I have been lately.  I wish I could just put on a happy face for everyone around me so I didn’t snap their heads off for stupid reasons like leaving the butter out on the counter all morning or for throwing a bit of a fit when they don’t get their way.  But I can’t do it.  No matter how hard I try, the happy face doesn’t seem to fit these days without busting the stitching and there’s no one around to sew up the seams anymore.

My Thanksgiving Report

So the holidays are here. Overall, I guess I could be a lot worse off - I think I need to remind myself of that more often. I could be alone, I could be broke and alone, I could be broke, alone and homeless living under a bridge. That would certainly be worse. This sucks though. To sit in a room with someone else, as I am right now, and feel alone isn't easy. It isn't comforting and it is to helpful. But I can't change it. My grief makes me feel alone - even when I'm sitting around a familiar table with the ones I call my family.

The actual holiday wasn't that tough because I was busy. Busy watching the turkey, praying it wouldn't burn. Busy figuring out the stuffing which happen to come out pretty damn good if I do say so myself. Busy trying to stay busy so I wouldn't be sad. And in those moments that I wasn't busy, I could see her sitting next to me in that chair, with her hair back, some hideously ugly and/or stained shirt on, drinking wine and bitching about something. And I choked back the tears, looked at my plate and tried to think of other things like my daughter laughing or the neighbors bizarre lights display (nothing says the holidays like a lit up Eiffel Tower on the lawn). I kept hoping no one would see my sadness and, as far as I know, no one did. I had hoped to feel her somehow that day, but I didn't. My visions were just that - mine. I have to accept the fact that she's just gone - no matter how hard that fact is to accept. The feeling that I have had all along - the emptiness, that gap which suddenly opened up after she passed; it will never fully close. She is gone from here, I won't see her or hear her or see her. Maybe my Dad will, but I won't. And I need to start getting used to it because holding out hope is getting me nowhere fast.

One day I hope to look at that empty chair next to me, complete with full place setting, and smile. But for now, I'll just keep my head down and hope for better days.

I'd Rather Be on a Beach

Today I am fairly cranky. No, that’s an underestimate – I am really freaking cranky.  It’s two days before Thanksgiving and honestly, I want it to go away.  I don’t want to ‘celebrate’ it.  I put quotes around that word because really what the hell am I celebrating?  Yes, I am thankful for my family and my job and the roof I keep over our heads and I am thankful for the food and all that jazz but there is this HUGE thing that I am not thankful for.  I am not thankful for the unexpected death of my mother, I am not thankful for feeling like any day now my dad my drop – which is just reinforced by him saying stuff like “I want you and your sister to know where things are just in case” and one of my recent favorites “well if I don’t clean your mother’s things out it’ll be here for you and your sister to do”. Gee, thanks Dad.

Everyone is allowed to celebrate this season, or not, however they chose.  Some people enjoy a turkey with their family, some enjoy a gigantic feast of turkey and lasagna and fish and salad and fifteen other foods I can’t think of.  Some enjoy a quiet night at home, watching old movies.  I don’t want to do a thing.  I would love to run away this holiday season.  Spend Thanksgiving on an island at an all-inclusive resort, sitting by a pool being served drinks with umbrellas in the them by a very handsome man who may or may not understand English.  Spend Christmas in London, I love it there and would love to see it at Christmas.  But I can’t.  I have obligations, I have a family that I have to be here for. But in my head, I am somewhere else and happily so.

I don’t know if a mental vacation will get me through this holiday season but something has to – other than cake and wine because I don’t want to come out the other side of this 10 pounds heavier (already gained some weight after my mom passed away by instituting the “Cookies Don’t Care” diet).  All I know for sure is that I can’t run, and I can’t hide from it, and facing it head on isn’t helping either because it doesn’t stop and it doesn’t go away.  The emptiness is there, always present.  I know she won’t be there on Thursday, I remember how she was last year at this time and in the weeks that followed.  To remember it is heart breaking because it was too late and we didn’t know it until we were smacked in the face with it and wowza did that hurt.  Still does and I will forever wear the proverbial scar from it.  I feel horrible that I didn’t do more and remembering what was going on a year ago right now, just brings that back up to the surface.  I know I can’t change what happened, and chastising myself won’t change anything.  I know that I have to let it go and forgive myself.  And I’ll get there eventually, but I’m not there yet.  So I’ll cook the turkey, try to make the stuffing like she would have, and I’ll eat the mashed potatoes that don’t taste or look like hers anymore and I will TRY desperately to do it with a smile because I know that’s what she would have wanted even though I am crying on the inside.

Stupid Holidays

I am fighting off the urge to write some sad FB post today.  Today I just want to say “Hey there FB peeps, I see that you’re all very thankful at this time of year but this year, I’m not all that thankful for much so please f off”.  I would really like to say “I’m having a hard time and all I want to do is cry and seeing how happy you all are with your families is just making it worse so please, shut the f up already”.  But I won’t.  everyone is allowed to be happy and I am trying, I really am trying to at least not be miserable.  At times, I think I do a pretty good job because I’m distracted by other things.  But then, there are other times that I just can’t keep my head above it all and I end up feeling like I’m in the proverbial fetal position. I almost wish I was – as long as I could drink wine and eat cake while in that position, which I would image would be quite difficult….

Yesterday, we went to Home Depot – not an unusual event by any means.  Who doesn’t hit the Depot every so often??  On this trip, we went to look at the Christmas “stuff” – the trees, the decorations, yada yada.  It was Rob’s idea and I thought Emily would like it so I said “yeah sure, let’s go look..what the heck”.  While meandering through the rows of trees, lights and blow-up reindeer, Rob found this carousel that went around and played Christmas music, oh and it lit up too.  Emily lit up, as well.  She laid on the floor with it and watched it with what I imagine to be the typical holiday awe that finds its way to the face of every toddler right about now.  There were houses, too, and little villages that you could buy and set up at home. My mom loved that stuff.  LOVED it.  And I imagined telling my mom about our outing, and my mom making my Dad go out to buy that carousel so they could have it at their house for Emily on Christmas – that thing was 80 bucks but she wouldn’t cared, my Mom would have said it’s for my baby and I don’t care how much it costs.  I know she would have been over the moon to know that Emily loved this stuff just as much as she did.  She would have taken the time on Christmas to show her every house, every button on every house, and she would have gone through them over and over with Emily that day. They will sit in their boxes this year, which I think they probably did last year too because she was too tired to set them up.  So in Home Depot, when Emily asked me to lay on the floor next to her and watch the carousel, I did.  And I did it while trying to hide the tears in my eyes because all of these thoughts ran through my head as I stood and watched my daughter delight in the lights and the sounds that were coming off of that carousel.

And today, I’m still struggling, still fighting it off.  I went to bed with some Christmas song in my head – thank God I can’t remember which one or it would probably continue playing.  This morning I thought about last year and how hard I prayed and hoped that I was wrong, that it wasn’t our last Christmas together.  But no amount of prayer or hope could have changed the outcome of what was playing out this time last year.  I think she knew.  I think she knew and that’s why she didn’t go to the doctor.  She didn’t want to a doctor to tell her she had cancer and that she wasn’t going to live to see her granddaughter grow up, she didn’t want to put my father through hearing it, knowing it.  And I don’t know whether or not that was the right thing to do – on one hand, it would have given us a chance to process it and to possibly delay it.  But to what gain?  The medications may have prolonged her life, but not in a good way – she wouldn’t have been up and around, chasing around my daughter.  I guess I just wish I had had a chance to tell her – really tell her, not tell her body which I don’t think she was in anymore – that I loved her, regardless of how she treated me or how badly we got on, and that I would miss her and that I would make sure Emily knew who she was and how much she loved her.  I didn’t get that chance and I really wish I had.

Avoiding Getting Smacked

Thanksgiving is approaching, quickly at that.  And I am trying.  I really am.  I’m trying to focus on shopping lists and how to laugh about the possible catastrophe in the making – my sister and I have to recreate my mom’s stuffing and we have really no clue what we’re going.  We really don’t.  No flipping clue.  And I’m trying to laugh about that instead of cry, although it is really hard. And every day gets just a tiny bit harder.

I told my sister that our mom appears and smacks me in the head while I’m trying to make her stuffing, I’m out.  I will leave the kitchen and she’ll be on her own.  That woman used to smack me, threaten my life and threaten my dinner if I spent too much time in her kitchen as she cooked so it wouldn’t surprise me if she found a way to hit me if she thought I was making a mess of her stuffing.

I’m trying to not picture the empty chair next to me, the quiet that will be there without her complaining and without her inappropriate comments.   (One year she said the word “orgy” during dinner, I don’t remember the context but I do remember my sister almost spitting mashed potatoes across the table at me.)  The day is about family and about being thankful for what you have; I’m just not sure that I can focus solely on what I have and not on what I don’t have when she’s not sitting next to me pounding back the wine and making inappropriate comments.  This year has come and gone so quickly – she’ll be gone a year in just a matter of weeks really – and yet it sometimes feels like I’m living in this stagnant place that hasn’t moved forward one inch.  I can still clearly see the night that I drove home from the hospital in the snow storm; I can still clearly see the snow falling as I sat in a parking lot, talking to my Dad about having her admitted into the hospital.  I can still  feel the cold air rushing in through the cracks around the door that lead to the roof in the ICU waiting room.  And I can still see her, hooked up to machines, my Dad sitting next to her saddened and hopeful that somehow she would wake up.  It’s hard to be thankful with those pictures in my head.  I’m trying, but attempting to stick turkey heads on the bodies of all the people I see isn’t helping – I tried picturing them in underwear and that was just disturbing.  Maybe that day I’ll just focus on avoiding the smack in the head – like I did most years (some years I sought it out, I’ll admit it).  And I’ll focus on not crying, and I’ll focus on making a dinner that she would enjoy.  I  miss her a lot, and these days, I miss her more.  Looking forward to the days when this is easier.  Maybe they come soon.

Honoring Zach Led Me Somewhere Else

I looked high and low and I couldn’t find a yellow anything in my closet or in Rob’s for that matter. I did find a yellow cardigan for Emily, which she refused to wear today, but it’s hanging up in her cubby – just in case she changes her mind at school.  Since I don’t have yellow, I am carrying around a Jake and the Neverland Pirates today; it’s a Disney show and I think it’s kind of goofy that I’m carrying this around my office everywhere I go….let’s see what happens when I walk into the bathroom with it.

Why am I doing this? What’s up with the yellow??  A friend lost his 5 year old nephew to cancer, and they are burying that child today.  He asked that whether or not you were going to the services, that you wear yellow to honor his nephew.  And if you didn’t have yellow, wear something Disney related. Well I fell short on both requests but carrying this book is the least I can do.  I think about what those parents have been through, watching their child suffer in pain, hooked up to IVs, and eventually passing away in his sleep at the age of 5 in a hospital bed while they held his hands.  I can’t imagine what I would do.  My worst – very worst nightmare is that something happen to my daughter while I’m still alive.  I can’t imagine her sick like that, not knowing if she will get older and experience all that life has to offer her.  I can’t imagine holding my child’s hand as she took her last breath and may God never put that burden on my shoulders.  I am strong but I am not strong enough for that.  That would certainly break me in a way that I don’t think I could ever come back from.

Today, I am also honoring that little boy along with my mom.  Today I made the call that I have been trying to make for months now, but I just couldn’t get myself to make.  I should hear soon if I’ve been approved to rent space at a church in our hometown for that book sale I’ve been talking about.  Her birthday, April 19^th, will be a Sunday next year and I think that’s a great day for it.  I want to do it, I need to do it.  I need something to work on that will make me feel like in some way, I’m making a difference and maybe I will make someone think about taking a closer look at their loved one’s health, their loved one’s medical care and maybe in some way I can change how cancer has ultimately changed us all.    This week, three people have died from the disease and all three were taken way too soon; I feel like I’m just a spectator to it all – watching as they fall and doing nothing.  I don’t think I can sit and just be sad anymore.  My heart aches for Deric and his family as they lay that little boy to rest today.  I feel like I have to do something so it doesn’t happen to my child.  God forbid.  Just.  Augh.  God forbid.

Denial is Pretty Awesome

It’s been a few days since I wrote anything so I figured I would take some time out to write down some stuff.

Tomorrow is my dad’s surgery.  It’s odd because I’ve been so worried about it and today, I don’t know, I’m not worried. I’m sure that will change tomorrow – I will sit here and stare at my phone, waiting to hear that he’s out and okay.  But today, I’m okay. (it could also be that I’m focusing on going to get coffee and a donut before my boss comes back to the office this afternoon but hey, whatever works!)

Thanksgiving is in two weeks.  Honestly, I’m just thinking about getting a turkey.  That’s it.  I keep reminding myself to tell my dad and my sister that we got another free turkey this year and I’ll get it, bring it to my dad’s house.  I’m not thinking about all of the other things that will go into this, I’m just focusing on the turkey.  At least that’s been my deal for the last few days and I am hoping I can keep this up for a bit longer.

So am I in denial right now?  Yeah, probably.  But I think it’s okay.  I’m better off like this.  I’m not crying, I’m not obsessing, I’m not freaking out.  I’m okay.  At least for right now I am and I’ll take it.  I’ll take it because, although it might not be ‘right’ per se, I know that I won’t be like this for very much longer.  I know that Thanksgiving will have tears; I may even cry as I pick up the turkey again this year, knowing that her approval won’t matter this year – I agonized last year, I really did, because I knew if I picked out the wrong one she would be pissed (and I didn’t really know what was “right” or “wrong” but I knew if there was anything deemed “wrong” I wouldn’t hear the end of it from her).  I know that Christmas will most likely be full of tears – as I watch my daughter open her gifts with a newfound joy that she hasn’t had before, I will miss my mom more than ever most likely.  She deserves to be here for all of this and she’s not; she deserves to sit there on the couch, as she did the past two Christmases, and watch her only grandchild – her only true joy – light up in happiness and exuberance as she opens her gifts.  We all deserve it, but we won’t get it no matter how much we want it or think we deserve it.  I’m not angry, I think I may have skipped that step, but I am sad and I am…..I don’t know how to describe it.  I feel gipped.  That feeling never goes away, neither does the guilt.  I wish that I could do something to remember or honor my mom this year, but I don’t know if I can do it this year.  There’s just too much – remembering how she was on the individual holidays, how she was in between, how she was that day in the ER and the days that followed leading up to her passing. And then the days that followed for the rest of us that were left behind.  It’s hard to think of that time now, since the anniversary of it all hitting the fan is here.  So instead of thinking of all of that, I’m just going to think about the turkey and how big it needs to be and when I need to pick it up. I will focus on the small things because the big ones, well, they’re just too big right now for my shoulders to bear.

WTF Universe? Seriously. WTF.

Just when you think the only issues you have are within your own head, the universe comes up and slaps you nice and hard across the face after it has jumped out from behind a closet door and scared the crap out of you.  In the dark.  After you’ve watched one of those “the call is coming from within the house” movies.

Yeah, it’s been one of those days.

My dad now has some issues that need to be dealt with – phone calls to doctors, changes to how his medical appointments and procedures are handled – all of it falls on my plate to deal with.  And right now, it’s a lot to take on top of everything I already have going on.  My mom is gone, my kid is getting bitten at school and is possibly surpassing her peers educationally already at not even 2.5 years old, my boyfriend is starting his own business which means more responsibility is about to fall on me at home, the holidays are here and my mom isn’t…..and now this with my dad.  I’m so angry over what happened – a lot of mismanaged care happened yesterday which is unacceptable in my book, but he would never complain because that’s just not my dad.  And every time stuff like this hits the fan, I end up being feared by whatever medical professional I need to take down a notch because my parents’ health care is very important to me. Well, is for my dad and was for my mom.  I can’t say how many run in’s I have had with nurses and doctors; I’ve actually heard nurses say “uh oh, here she comes” and “oh is THAT the one” when I walk by.  But at the end of the day I don’t care what they think of me as long as they take care of him the way that he deserves to be treated.

And now, yet again this falls on me.  I’m not the oldest but I am the most responsible, for lack of a better word.  Okay so responsible isn’t it – I’m the most capable to deal with this.  My sister can’t call up a doctor’s office and tell them that what happened was unacceptable, demand answers, and actually get them.  She can’t call up a nurse’s station and demand that a doctor be paged or that the head nurse get on the phone “right now”.  That’s not her.  She’s a lot like my dad for the most part – calm.  Me?  Oh, I’m my mother’s daughter through and through.  That woman had a horrible temper; so does my dad but his fuse is much longer than mine for sure.  My primary concern at this point is his well-being and I don’t care who I have to mow down in order to get him the care that he needs.  I called the patient care office at a hospital once and raised such hell that the rest of his stay was quite perfect compared to how it was before I called; the hospital Administrator came to see him, that’s how serious they took my complaint over him being left in a hallway for 2 hours and not getting a meal.  I don’t scream or yell at anyone, but I get results and right now I really do want to yell and scream because he is what I have left.  I have one parent left and I will be damned if someone will mistreat him while I’m still able to pick up a phone and reach out to slap someone.  (Verbally, of course.)

My Thoughts on the "Assisted Suicide" Thing

I read an article on the Huffington Post about a woman whose mother had dementia and, although this was her favorite time of year, she didn’t know what time of year it was and how sad that was for this woman to watch.  All of the joy that she had experienced with her mom over the years at this time of year – skating in the park, enjoying the crisp weather, the beautiful store windows in New York as Christmas approached – all of it would never be again with her. She was slowly dying and this woman was forced to watch it happen, was forced to watch her mother turn into another person who (granted) remembered her and her siblings but wasn’t sure who her granddaughter was and who just wasn’t the person that this woman loved, admired and needed.  I can’t image that kind of pain and I am honestly happy that I don’t have to.

This week, here in the US, there has been quite the media storm about this woman on the West Coast who decided to end her own life because she had terminal brain cancer – there are handful of states that allow ending your own life with a prescribed amount of medication.  This woman was young, younger than me I believe, and was getting sicker and sicker each day. She had a choice – to die the way that many people with that disease die, which isn’t easy on anyone involved and is painful and full of medications, IVs and incoherency, or to die by her own terms peacefully.  I watched my father-in-law deteriorate from bladder cancer back in 2000 or 2001 and it was horrible. In the end he was confined to a bed in their house and was on so many pain medications he was barely conscious; when he was conscious it was confusing for him, scary for him and I think scary for anyone around him.  Many times he didn’t know where he was, didn’t know who people were, and forgot how to speak English (German was his first language).  It was a horrible death.  One that I am happy my mother did not have to endure.  When someone is faced with a diagnosis of death – which really is what it turns into – what options do you have?  There are some people that feel the ‘natural’ order of things is the right path to follow.  Take the medications and treatments, deal with the pain and indignity that can come along with all of those treatments and side-effects, and end up dying hopped up on meds either in hospice, or in a hospital having been taken off of machines like my mom, or at home with a home health nurse present.  I think that, had things been different for my mom and if she had had the option, she would have done what that young woman did.  My mom didn’t want to die the way that she did – if you really think about it, would you want to die like that? She was on machines that were keeping her alive, her body shutting down and infected due to the massive doses of antibiotics she was on to stave off pneumonia that ended up throwing off a different infection, her faculties gone, her ability to communicate gone.  I know she didn’t want to die, which is why she held on as long as she did, but there were no options left.  If she had known months or even weeks before, I think she would have at least attempted to take her own life if she had not sought out options to have it done with assistance like this woman had.  My mom’s death was nothing but sad, traumatic, and horrible for all involved.  Anyone that condemns that girl for putting herself and her family in a position of peace must not have ever sat by their loved one’s side as they took their last breath.

Another article I read compared her ‘suicide’ to that of the people that leapt to their deaths on 9/11 from the World Trade Center Towers.  Do we ever say or read that those people killed themselves, that they committed suicide?  No, we don’t.  But they were in the same situation. They knew they were going to die.  There was no way out of the buildings for them. So they had a choice – die by smoke inhalation or fire or by being crushed by the floors above them as the building fell, or jump.  I can’t say what I would have done, but I can understand and appreciate why someone would chose to die the way that they wanted to and not the way that would have just happened to them had they sat by and done nothing.  And that’s how I felt those days, sitting by my mom as the machines pumped away and we watched her blood pressure and her temperature as if any of those numbers would change her fate.  I felt like I was doing nothing, because that’s what I WAS doing.  There was nothing I could do for her but sit there and hope that somehow, she knew I was there and that she wasn’t alone.  I wish that she  had had a choice. The chance to say this is what I want.  The chance to say good-bye before her body decided it was done; the chance to see her granddaughter once more and maybe give her something to remember her grandmother by, the chance to kiss my father once more, the chance to call me “sweetheart” once more.  I would have given anything to have her pass peacefully instead of what ended up happening.  That experience was anything but peaceful and now all I can hope for is that she has found peace where ever she may be. 

Not a day goes by that I don’t miss my mom and I wish that things had been different and I wish so very much that she was still here – not for me really but for my daughter, for my dad.  I wish that we had known if just for the chance to rationalize it, make sense of it, and say good bye. I said good bye to her but I am not all that sure she heard me, and that will always be with me.

Where's My Freaking Manual??

Today, I am less than happy.  Today I’m just sad.  I’m cranky and I’m sad.  It was this time last year that my mom stopped talking to me because I was forcing her to see her cardiologist; she was also mad that I had called her primary care physician and “told” on her to him.  He only made her start taking Ensure in an effort to gain back some weight….obviously that wasn’t what she needed.  She had lost so much weight already and when she stopped eating for a week in October, it just got worse.  And although I think she knew something was wrong, she did nothing to figure out what it was or how to fix it.

It’s not that I’m sad on purpose, it really isn’t.  I started thinking about things this morning and stopped myself, said to myself “no, you can’t do this to yourself, stop making yourself cry”.  But that didn’t last very long.  It’s hard not to think about it when there are times that it feels like it was yesterday that my sister called and said “so Mom told me she isn’t talking to you right now”.  It kind of makes me laugh a little, just because that’s the perfect picture of who she was – you do something in her best interest that she didn’t agree with and she stopped talking to you for two weeks.  That was my mom.  Spiteful, stubborn to a fault, incapable of admitting that someone else was right and she was wrong.  Which sucks, especially in hindsight, because I was doing what I could to try and figure out what was wrong and she fought me tooth and nail on it.  I still wish I had pushed her harder sooner, but I think the outcome would have ended up being the same. 

I try to laugh as much as I can these days – whether it’s by tickling my 2 year old anytime she lays down and says “MOMMA tickletickletickle” while she holds up her shirt or shows you were to tickle her, or if it’s just by remembering something funny from vacation or from a recent conversation.  I’m trying to be happy, but some days it’s just too hard to fight the good fight.

I’m not sure if I’m doing this right or not, unfortunately there is no manual to this process.  But I hope that in the end, I can help someone else go through this with just a little bit of hope and a little bit of confidence in reaching the other side of it.  I haven’t gotten to the other side, and from what I’ve heard, it’s not as rough but it’s not necessarily easy; I don’t need ‘easy’.  I need to feel decent. I need things to be groovy.  I need to think of her and smile more than cry.   I just need to say I’m okay and actually mean it.

It's Been a Day

Today is just a day.  A day that has been full of mistakes and of things forgotten.  I’ve dropped things, I’ve knocked things over, I’ve forgotten important things at home.  I am preoccupied and distracted.  There are too many things swirling in my brain to really keep anything straight.  My daughter’s safety at school – it’s a few things that are compounding and concerning me, including the child that can’t seem to stop biting others and if he bites my kid again…oh there will be war, for sure.  My father’s health and well-being – that looming surgery is making me more anxious than I care to admit.  My mom.  She’s gone and I keep remembering what it was like this time last year with the fighting, the phone calls, forcing her to go to her cardiologist, her not speaking to me.  It’s hard to push those thoughts to the side.  My job – stressful, unpredictable at this point.  Myself – I’m forgetting more and more things, there is always something that I forget every single day now and I never used to be like this.  I used to be on top of everything, knew every detail, knew where everything was, never lost a thing.  Not anymore.  And I hate it.

I hate that still, the grief isolates me or at least makes me feel isolated.  I know it’s affected my relationship with Rob; thankfully he loves me no matter what and vice versa because if this relationship hadn’t already gone through hell and back a hundred times, I don’t know if this would be a storm we could weather.  This process is hard from this side of the fence, I can only imagine how hard it is to live on the other side of this some days.  Some day’s I’m just fine but others I am quite the opposite – I have a short fuse and I have a horrible attitude – and still, it continues on.  I don’t know when this part will end – the part where I’m sad, angry, lonely, desperate for understanding why this all happened the way that it did, guilty to some extent, sad.  I hope to find the light at the tunnel soon, although I know it won’t be reached before the holidays are over; if anything, the holidays have pushed me back in the proverbial tunnel and I have a further way to go to reach the light now.  And I guess part blessing, part curse is that her passing happened right after the holidays so I don’t have long to wait to go through that emotional turmoil, either.  I get to do it all in one shot.  Lucky me.

Wanting to Run

Did you ever think, just for a moment, of just getting out?  Driving away from it all, leaving all of it behind and the freedom that you would gain from walking away?  I’m sure all of us have had an opportunity at some point along the way.  I had one this weekend.  Rob and Emily were playing outside a store; he had waited on-line inside, I took her outside to play and when he came out into the cold and blustery weather he said “why don’t you get the car and when you drive around, we’ll get in”.  So I went to get the car; got in, started it up, and sat for a moment in the silence.  I was alone.  It was the first time in almost a week, and I liked it.  I thought about what it would be like to turn right instead of left.  Rob could call someone to pick them up, a cab even.  I could stop home, transfer the money from my vacation account into my checking account and drive to the airport before anyone could find me.  I could get on a plane to California, or London, and that would be it.  My life would be my own again, my decisions would be mine, I wouldn’t have to worry about this little person anymore or my dad.  I wouldn’t have to worry about losing my dad anymore because he wouldn’t exist in this new life.  See, in this new life, I would be a new person with no family and no history.  No one to care about, no one to worry about. And for a brief moment, it sounded like bliss.  But then, I thought of her little smiling face and the amazing hugs and kisses she gives me every day.  And I thought about how losing me would kill my dad.  And I thought about how hard it would be for Rob to raise her alone – if something happened to him, what would happen to her without me? 

So I turned left.  I turned left and I unlocked the doors so my family could come in.  And I was happy that they were there with me – for all the crazy yelling of my name from the backseat that seemed to not end for hours, for all of the wild thoughts in my head about my dad’s impending surgery, for all of the craziness that my significant other puts me through some times, I was happy they were there and most importantly, I was happy I was there. 

Thanks, Mom and/or Universe

To say that it was divine intervention or just pure coincidence, doesn’t matter, my vacation was absolutely perfect from beginning to end.  It was odd how perfect it was.

I got off the Turnpike, looking for the parking lot and voila it was right in front of me. I thought I would end up lost in Elizabeth (again) but I wasn’t!!  I got to the airport early, the flight – although bumpy – was uneventful and my luggage made its way to my hotel. The young woman that checked me in at the hotel was named Emily, just like my daughter and she was just lovely to talk to.  And then I got to our room.  Oh our room.  It was exactly what I had hoped for.  A full balcony, and a full view of the theme park next door and the nightly fireworks (and we could hear all of the corresponding music too).  I walked the resort – which was beyond amazing and peaceful, got free ice cream because of my “happy birthday” pin.  I soaked up the solitude and happiness.  We went to the parks, we ate, we drank, we met lovely people.  Our meals were great, the company was great, I was relaxed 100% for the first time in at least a year if not more.  It was phenomenal.

I found a toy sword behind the curtains to the balcony, as I was searching for a light switch to turn out the outside light (I never did find that switch).  It was propped up in the corner and was a pirate’s sword.  My daughter LOVES Jake and the Never land Pirates.  LOVES THEM.  And here was this sword, just sitting in the corner as if it was left there on purpose for me to discover.

At least once, as I walked the resort alone one night, I felt like maybe my mom was with me and had something to do with how perfect this vacation was.  I thanked her, and I think I thanked the universe just in case, because this was my birthday re-do; my actual birthday was horrible and hellish so this was a chance to actually celebrate and be happy.  And I was.  And for some reason, somewhere inside, I felt like it was her somehow manipulating things and putting me in the right place at the right time so that I would have a good time and not think of anything but where we were getting our next meal or our next cocktail.  Last year was so stressful at this time; if you’ve ever had a parent or loved one start to get mysteriously ill and have pain that can’t be explained away easily, you know what I’m talking about.  My life changed, and continued to change until she was no longer here and I know that I won’t ever be the same again; my life will never go back to the ‘normal’ that it once was.  Every day for the past year or so I have been stressed on some level – not that I am no longer stressed at all, I think I would also have to depart this life in order for that to happen – but every day has included some worry about someone’s health or well-being.  But for those brief 5 days, I was worry and stress-free and it was glorious.

So again today, I say thank you to my mom, where ever she may be.  I hope that it was her that made it as perfect as it could be, so that in some way I had a happy birthday.  If it was her, she did a great job and I hope she knows how happy I was and how relaxed I was (for once) and I hope she knows how grateful I am for it.  I think I needed that rest and relaxation more so than I realized and even today, I am happier for that blissful stress-free time away.  And if it wasn’t her, well, let’s just say it was her and leave it at that.  Makes me feel better that way.

Monty Python was right but still....

“Always look on the bright side of life” is the title and a line from one of the best Monty Python songs ever made.  And on a day like today, I think I should try to sing it on repeat all day long.  I woke up grumpy, for a number of reasons – many of which are in my head, but regardless of what they are I am grumpy and I really do need to stop.

I can’t stop thinking about the holidays and how much I wish she was here.  This morning I thought how amazing it would be if, at some point on Thanksgiving, I walked into the kitchen and saw her standing at the stove and she turned around and said “hi sweetheart” like she always did.  What I would give for that to happen just one more time.  it’s amazing how, little moments like that, mean so much when that other person is gone. I would give anything to see her in that kitchen again, even if she was cursing at me for getting in her way.  Back then, when she was “okay” and she did stuff like that, it pissed me off – although I will admit that sometimes, her frustration was pretty funny and my dad would joke about it behind her back (where she couldn’t see or hear him).  But now, it would make me smile no matter what.  I would give anything to hear her bitch about all the work she does for Thanksgiving or Christmas and how no one helps her – even though we offered every year and last year was the only time she took us up on it.  I would give anything to hear her complain about the pot that ‘danced’ on the stove when it got hot.  I would give anything to hear her voice again, to see her again.  And I don’t know how to stop thinking about it.

I know that this will get easier; next year will be easier than this year – assuming of course that I still have my dad at the holidays next year (something else I think about probably too much than I should).  But it’s hard to focus on what’s to come that’s positive because all I feel is sad when I think about her, the holidays, etc. I don’t feel hopeful; it’s hard to feel hopeful when someone has died.  What do you hope for??  Happiness for yourself seems selfish, especially in my situation given what happened to my mom.  I know that I have to be strong for my dad, at least on the outside; it’s a skill I’ve mastered at this point in my life.  I’ve done this so many times I can do it without thinking, the switch just turns on and I look like I’m handling the weight of the world without breaking a sweat.  It’s when I get in my car that I fall apart; it’s when I’m alone and can feel for myself that I lose it. 

Books & Picture Day

Last night, coming home with Emily, I started to cry.  Emily’s school was doing a book sale – your typical school book sale but on a smaller scale since these are smaller kids with limited book choices.  And Emily picked out three to take home (aka, Mommy got hosed for about 25 bucks); there were two  more she wanted to bring home but I said no, we had enough books.  There was a mini-fit but she was happy in the end with her books on the way home. And it made me cry.  My mom was SUCH a book lover, she would have been beaming to see Emily sit on the little make-shift futon they have set up as a reading corner; she sat there and looked at each page of the books she picked while I either sat next to her and watched or stood and talked to another parent (and watched her out of the corner of my eye).  My mom would be so proud to see Emily love books as much as my sister did when she was her age and as much as my mom did.  I bet my mom would buy her book after book after book….you could never have enough books in her eyes. 

My mom will also miss out on the annual school picture; I gave my parents a framed copy of the one from last year for Christmas and my mom thought it was so pretty. I thought she would be here for a few more of them, to smile at them, brag about them, show them off. I didn't know it then, but now I know how important something as mundane as the annual picture day and having a picture in hand to give to someone means. It brings tears to my eyes knowing that she's missing it. 

How I wish she was here to see this.  How I wish she was here to wrap her arms around Emily to tell her how proud she was of her.  How I wish she was here to sit on the couch and read to her, hear her pick out letters and pictures.  I can remember my mom reading the Wizard of Oz to me; it’s one of the few memories I have like that – I wasn’t read to very often as a child but I can remember many times sitting in the living room with my mom as she sat reading, drinking her big glass of iced tea and smoking (that last part stopped at some point when I was in college and she had a heart attack).

I hope she can hear me, I hope she can see Emily.  I know that I will never know either one of those things, but I can hope for it.  And I hope for it every single day.

I Don't Enjoy Being a Bitch. No, really.

This weekend I was a miserable bitch. I did all that I could to stop – I even went so far as to go into the bathroom, look myself in the eye (in the mirror) and say “stop being such a bitch already, wtf!”.  I seriously did that because I couldn’t stand myself anymore.  I also walked out of a room to breathe and to get myself to calm down because, again, I was being an uber byatch and couldn’t stop.  I don’t really know why.  Well, I guess underneath it all I know why – I have a dead mom and I’m pretty pissed about it, pretty sad about it, pretty upset that I can’t think of the holidays without wanting to cry.  I know how this process goes.  I’ve been down a similar road but still, that history doesn’t help me now.  You’d think I would somehow be able to tap into those memories and get myself grounded by knowing that there are better days and the light at the end of the tunnel is NOT a freight train. But no.  I can’t seem to apply that experience to this, even though that experience sucked too and I know that it gets better but right now, it doesn’t seem to matter.

I can’t stop myself from thinking about her, and that’s making my day-to-day difficult.  I think it’s because I can’t stop thinking about my dad, and how hard the coming months will be for him and how much harder that will make it for me.  I know that I shouldn’t fixate on anything like this – it’s all out of my control and it’s in the future, albeit the not so far off in the distance future.  But it’s hard not to.  It’s hard not to think about what was going on right here, right now, a year ago and what will not be going on right here, right  now in the present.  It’s hard to not think about her because she was a part of my every day, whether I liked it or not.  Especially a year ago, when all we did was argue about stuff like her eating habits and changing Emily’s diaper enough during the day when they watched her and no I didn’t introduce juice yet and no I’m not planning on it, and when are you making that doctor’s appointment and what did you eat for breakfast and lunch today – do you actually think that’s enough food??  But in the end, no amount of food could have saved her.  Who knows, if she did eat more it might have fueled the cancer and it could have spread faster, she wouldn’t have been here for the holidays.  When she was on the feeding tube in the hospital, they were giving her plenty of nutrition but she couldn’t put weight on because of how quickly the cancer was spreading; she would gain some, and then lose it as soon as they backed off of the fluids they were pumping her with.  It was in her bones in that last CT and it hadn’t been there a week before. A week.  19 days before it was just nodules in her lungs.  That last CT showed a huge mass in the front of one of her lungs that wasn’t there just three weeks before.  Three weeks.  It amazes me how fast something so horrible and devastating moves around in your body.

But today is a new day.  And I need to look at it that way.  Yeah I’ve been pretty wretched lately, but that doesn’t mean I have to be horrible today.  Right now, as I type, I don’t feel overly horrible which is an improvement and right now, I’ll take whatever I can get.  And with that, Sarah Bareilles’ “December” comes onto my iPhone…..gee, thanks for making me sad(der) Sarah, awesome timing!! (Quickly reaching out to phone to change song to….Little Black Dress…that’s about a stupid man, so that’s better.)  Must stay focused on the upside of things and not think about the downers – the holidays, her clothes in my house that she never got to wear (which I washed this weekend – fun times), my dad.  Yeah, not going there right now.  As my toddler would say “Momma, NO NO”.  Complete with crossed arms and a foot stomp for good measure.

Get Yourself Together, Woman!

We meet every day at work for a 9ammeeting; leadership gets together and discusses priorities for the day, policy changes, operational challenges, etc.  And here I am, yet again for the umpteenth time this year, trying to get myself together so that I don’t look like I’ve been crying for the past 10 minutes (even though I have been).  When I dropped off Emily at school, most of her friends were already there and playing with the teacher so she immediately put her stuff away and went to play.  When I told her I was leaving she came over and hugged me, and then went back to play.  She saw me walking to the door and she ran over with her arms out, I stooped down so she could kiss me, she said “bye bye” and ran back to play.  I was SO HAPPY to see her so happy, and to see her just walk off independently and be okay without me and to just jump in and play with her friends; I’m not a helicopter mom AT ALL.  I want her to be independent and not need me 24/7.  And to see her do that today was just a wonderful event to see and how I wished in that moment to tell my mom.  I wanted to pick up the phone from the parking lot and tell her all about it.  My mom would be so proud of her; my mom wanted Emily to grow up to be independent and fierce.  My mom, although she didn’t always act this way, wanted me to be independent and not depend on some man for everything.  She was happy that I could pay my bills, keep a roof over my head and food on my table without the help of a man; she never understood why my sister got remarried because to my mom, she didn’t need to.  I think secretly, it was something that she had wanted for herself but was never allowed to.

It broke my heart to walk away from that classroom knowing that my mom wouldn’t hear the excitement and pride in my voice when I told the story of this morning.  It broke my heart to know that she’s not here to be proud of Emily, to hug her and to tell her what a wonderful job she’s doing and that she’s “Grandma’s Girl” – that’s what my mom used to call her.  It breaks my heart over and over to know that she wasn’t here long enough for Emily to remember her and to not only remember who she was but to also remember how much she loved her.

Pissed & Disappointed

Today, I’m still staring at my phone.  I thought by now I would be able to pick it up, ask the questions and book the date but I haven’t been able to get myself to tell yet another person about why I am doing this fund-raiser.  I thought I could do it because this is what I ‘need’ to do – I need a distraction, I need to feel like all that crap that happened – that was happening a year ago right now – was for some good reason and not just to drive me to the brink of looney-tunes emotionally and mentally.  I need to feel like something positive came from this because so far, there hasn’t been a silver lining.

But I’m just still staring.  I know what I want to do in terms of marketing the event, reaching out to people, organizing the donations, etc.  I know all of it and I even have a plan written out.  But the first step, making it a real thing and giving it a name, I can’t bring myself to do.  I can’t do  it because it would mean that she really is gone, she really is dead.  Even now, I have a hard time using that word and it’s been over 8 months.  I’ll say “passed away” but I won’t use the ‘d’ word.  It’s just too real, too harsh, too much of an ending.

I’m angry at myself for staring, for standing still, for not pushing myself forward like I feel like I should but can’t seem to do.  I know that I need to do things at my own pace, (insert misc. bs here that people tell you) but I feel guilty for not doing this all already.  I should have been done and over with this whole fundraiser by now, technically; I had the idea to do it over the summer or really late in the Spring so why the hell haven’t I done it yet???

Grief really makes you reach across the gamut of emotions, doesn’t it?  I’m sad, I’m angry, I’m self-deprecating, I’m back to sad, oh look here comes anger around the bend mixed in with some selfishness just for fun.  No one can prepare you for the journey that is the grief after a loved one dies; there is no self-help book that has a title with your name on it (how cool would that be though??).  If there was a map I could buy at the Barnes & Noble when I go to pick up a latte, I would pay any amount of money for it at this point.  Just when I think I’m starting to turn a corner and feel ‘normal’ again, I get hit with something – these days it’s the looming holidays and the memories of how she was last year this time.  I look forward to next year at this time when it’s not so fresh, and maybe the guilt won’t be such an overbearing pain in the ass. 

Baby Steps

Today, I moved forward a little bit.  I picked up the phone and called my parents’ old parish, asking if I could rent space for the fundraiser in my mom’s honor.  I left a message, so now I just wait.  I am hoping that they say yes, but we’ll see.  If whomever I talk to isn’t receptive to the idea, I might go right to the top – the pastor has been a friend of my dad’s for years and in his eulogy for my mom said “I didn’t want to welcome you home like this, but you’re home now and this will always be your home” (yeah that didn’t make me cry like a baby).  I think I need to do this now, I need to feel like I’m doing something for her now that the holidays are coming and I have these horrible memories and thoughts and I need something positive (aside from the vacation I’m taking with a friend in a few weeks).

Moving forward and trying to turn a horribly negative experience into something positive, I hope, will make me feel better.  Something has to give.  It’s not that I’m sad all the time, but I’m sad more often than I would like and my sadness is triggered by things way too often for my liking.  Maybe if I have this to work on, plan for, focus on, I won’t have so much time to remember how she died and how………responsible I still feel.

UPDATE…..I can’t use the space at the parish, but I did get to speak to the Pastor’s Assistant who adores – well adored I guess – my parents.  She’s a wonderful woman who cried, and cried, when my sister and I went to make the selections for our mother’s funeral mass.  She shared with me that her mother also passed away, it will be 3 years this December.  And she told me this – “It doesn’t get easier, it does not get easier, but it does get tolerable”.  That struck a chord with me and made me realize that I’m not crazy thinking that this will never be ‘easy’ again but the light at the end of the tunnel will bring some normalcy, for lack of a better word, to things again.  She said that strives for tolerable some days, because she knows that’s as good as it will get.  And I can live with that.

Coincidental Music

This morning on my way to school/work, I heard a Stone Temple Pilots song, a Rick Astley song, and then a Third Eye Blind song oh and a Goo Goo Dolls song.  STP was one of Donna’s favorite groups; my mom loved Rick, TEB was a band we listened to in college and at the bar after we graduated, and the Goo’s song was one that reminded me of a friend that was killed in a motorcycle accident almost 19 years ago.  I know that there is a very high probability that this was all just coincidence and it means nothing, but deep inside me I feel like it wasn’t.  I feel like it meant something; what, I’m not sure.  Maybe it means that they have all met, they have hung out and they are all okay.  When Donna died, I hoped that she would meet up with Billy who was young and cute and fun and smart and a tiny bit edgy – she would have liked him.  And when my mom died, I hoped that Donna would find her and help her, show her the ropes (per se) and hang out with her and introduce her to her mom –I think her mom and my mom would have gotten along.  So maybe that’s what this morning was….some message from beyond to say ‘we’re together, we’ve all met, and we’re all okay’.  I hope that’s what it was.  I hope and pray that they are all okay, where ever they may be and they have met.  Each of them was pretty cool in their own way and my mom loved Donna, she would be happy to see her and I hope she’s filled her in on everything that’s happened since she left us 5 years ago.  Or I at least hope they’ve had a good laugh over the things that she’s watched from a far for the past 5 years…there have been some doosies…..

I miss each of them very much, even though I don’t think of Billy every day.  Although at this time of year, as the anniversary of his so very untimely death approaches, I think of him more and more.  And as the holidays approach, I think of my mom and of Donna and her mom more and more – if that’s possible – because they won’t be the same this year; they will never be the same again.  Today I will do my best to not cry in my office, but my best may not be good enough.  There are too many people gone, there are too many people missing this wonderful thing we call life.  Just too many.

13 years/8 months

Today is a particularly hard day, for so many reasons.  13 years ago, thousands of people died as I watched it all unfold on my tv.  I still remember seeing the first images of the Towers with smoke rising around them and thinking “why are they showing this….that bomb went off years ago” and not knowing that it was new, it wasn’t a bomb, I knew people in those buildings who would not make it out.  Today, I remember them with sadness and I remember who we were as a country at that time. We were together, united, we were there for one another. Here in NJ, there was kindness all around; you didn’t know if the person in front of you at the red light or in line at the store had lost someone or was waiting to find someone.  There are still some that are lost who will never be found; my cousin’s husband and his brother worked for Cantor Fitzgerald, they were not found.

And today marks 8 months since my mom passed away.  8, in this sense, seems like such a large number.  8.  It’s close to 10, closer to 12 than 7 or 6.  As the days and weeks move forward quickly, I am forced to come to terms with the fact that the holidays will soon be here.  Halloween means another costume and cute pictures of her one and only grandchild.  Thanksgiving means that we’ll try to recreate her meal without her help this time. And Christmas.  I don’t really know what to say about that day.  I knew that she would not be here for this one, but it doesn’t make it any less difficult to think of celebrating without her.

Today, I remember everyone that is gone, not just from 9/11, not just from 1/11, but anyone I’ve known and cared about who is gone.  They are all missed, I have memories of them all, and I hope to see them all again.

A Small Improvement is Still an Improvement

Today is an improvement – I don’t feel as sad or as isolated as I did yesterday, which is good.  This roller coaster sucks.  I hate, really truly hate, that I never know how I’m going to be day to day anymore and honestly, I’m not entirely sure if I ever will.  There is always, ALWAYS, something that makes me think about my mom. Whether it’s things like yesterday, having a coworker come back after losing her father and that making me remember what that first day back was like, or driving past the hospital sign, or thinking about Halloween and how my mom loved picking out Emily’s first Halloween costume (although I am fairly sure it was all my dad’s doing), there is always something and there are days that just one thought tosses me back to those early days and all I want to do is cry in front of her ‘drawer’ at the cemetery.

Last night, as I sat on the floor with our new kitties, I thought “my mom would love you guys” and I got a little choked up.  It’s sad, but true.  They’re cute, fun, have the softest fur ever known to be on a kitty, and they are sticking adorable if I do say so myself.  Let alone all the stuff that Emily is doing or saying now that would crack up my mom to no end (if she could hear it, of course).  It’s sad remembering or realizing that she’s not here to share in this with us, with me.  And as Emily grows up and becomes more of a little girl or a young woman, I will continue to have the same thoughts and feelings.  I knew my parents wouldn’t see her graduate from college, but I hoped they would both be here to see her graduate from pre-school and kindergarten.  I know it’s important to remember the good times (even if there weren’t many) and I know it’s important to try to focus on the fact that she was here long enough to get to know Emily, see her, watch her grow even if it was only for 18 months.  I know it’s important to focus on the good, and not the bad; it’s sometimes not an easy task to accomplish, though.  I remember those last days, even before she went into the hospital and those were not fun-filled days.  Having to convince her to go into the hospital, having to deal with her hating me for making her go to the doctor, my sister fighting with my dad to make the CT appointment for my mom, sitting in the chair and talking to her doctor, sitting in this chair and talking to him again.  It’s hard to not think of those and to not think of everything that came before it.  I do hope that it gets easier to focus on everything else instead of this stuff.  This stuff sucks.

Grieving by Association

Today, my co-worker came back in after her bereavement for the death of her father.  As a management team, we all meet daily at 9am; I ran into her after the meeting was over and she was crying – she said she didn’t think she would be so overwhelmed today.  All I could say is “the first day back sucks”.  What else could I say?  I don’t think “the next three to six months are going to be just like this, so get used to it” would have been helpful.  Or how about “if it makes you feel any better, my mom will be gone 8 months this week and standing here talking to you makes me want to cry like it happened last week”?  Yeah, probably not a good idea too, even though it’s the truth.

Even now, 8 months later, I feel like it’s my first day back.  I remember how I felt sitting in that meeting, sitting at this desk, walking these halls thinking “please God, don’t let anyone ask how I am”, and then feeling grateful when someone did.  And the more I talk to people the more I learn that what I feel today will never go away.  There will always be times that I feel like I want to cry my eyes out because in my world, it feels like she just died.  I feel like I just stood by her casket in the middle of the church, rubbed it gently with my hand, and cried in front of all of our family and friends.  That’s how I feel today.

Disappearing Self

I have sacrificed a lot this year to make myself ‘work’, for lack of a better word.  I’ve sucked it up more times than I can count, went to work, got out of bed, took care of my daughter instead of just focusing on myself.  I’ve stayed at home while he went to see his children, while he went on a very long vacation with one of them.  I’ve done things I didn’t want to do, including telling my father things that I never wanted to say out loud but had no choice at the time.  I’ve put my fears aside and faced things that no one should; I told a nurse to start the process of allowing my  mother to die.  No child should have to do that.  I’ve been the rock that I’ve always been in the face of insanity and uncertainty.  I haven’t gone to the cemetery when I’ve wanted to, so that I can spend time with my family.  I haven’t run away all of the times that I wanted to – and if I had, I don’t know if I would be back by now.  I’ve put my own needs to the side because that’s just what I do.  Everyone else is more important, what everyone else wants and needs is more important.  And now, based upon a recent conversation, I’m being asked to support my partner first, as if I don’t already do that every day.  As if I make a decision to do it.  As if I put myself first regularly.  And the few times that I have, well, I don’t remember when I have.  Even when my mother died, I put my child’s needs before mine – she was sick the day my mom died and I came home right from the hospital to be with her, to comfort her, instead of just driving around in silence and shock which is what I wanted to do.  I take care of everyone else around me before I take care of me, and now, its being insinuated that that’s not the case.  How can I put myself any further back on the burner?  Should I just allow him to run rampant, make whatever decisions he wants about anything and everything and not say a word?  Should I just work, take care of our child, and not have an opinion on anything else so that he feels that he is my priority more so than he is already. At what point will I lose myself entirely?  I’d like to know that so I’m prepared for that moment and I know what to expect.

Why Am I Crying??

It’s one of those days when I’m crying and I don’t really know why.  Oh the fun.  This morning I was listening to a cd one of my friends made for me and a U2 song came on…that was Donna’s favorite band, she died 5 years ago.  So the music started and I started to cry.  Then the duet that Robert Downey, Jr and Sting did on Every Breath You Take came on and, again, on came the tears.  I have no idea why.  I’m such an emotional wreck today and I don’t really know why.  There’s a part of me that is very happy – my relationship is in a good place, my daughter is doing GREAT in school, my dad is doing okay right now, we’re adopting cats this weekend, all is well in that part. And then there’s that other part.  The other part that just makes me sad, the part that’s disappointed over so much that I can’t change, the part that is just so sad, that’s the part that makes me want to curl up on the couch with a box of donuts, fashion magazines, Arrow on the TV (good LORD he is hot), and a fuzzy blanket. Alone.  So I can cry if I want, I can be mad if I want, I can just be.  That part of me, on days like today, is very loud in my head and yells “go the F home already”.  Even on days like today when I can’t.  I have too much to do, a class to teach, and not enough vacation time to use any way.

How do you go through your day, your life, when all you want to do is be on your couch alone with some donuts?  I can’t even pretend that’s where I am….so I can’t take a mental vacation, that’s for sure.  Ugh.  I really want those donuts right now, too.

Suck It

Today is what I would like to call ‘shiteshow Tuesday', for a number of reasons.  I think I’ll make a bulleted list…

·         Last night, Emily was a BEAST.  Cried and screamed for 45 minutes in bed before finally passing out.  Thankfully she wasn’t horrible when I went in to wake her up this morning but man, it was hard to let go of the anger and disappointment I had left over from yesterday. Yesterday was really, really hard and I yelled at her once – only once which is surprising given how many times I had to walk away from her mid-tantrum, how many times I had to stop myself to breath so I wouldn’t yell. 

·         I have a bag of my mom’s clothes from Christmas in my house now.  My dad brought it over, thinking I could use some of it or I could just donate it.  I walked past it for the last few days, just glancing at it and trying to pretend it isn’t there – knowing that I at least have to move it, but this morning after my shower it just took over and I started to cry.  I have her stuff, and I don’t have her and it sucks.  I hate this so much.  I miss her, I have no idea if she’s okay, if she’s in heaven or somewhere else, if there even is an after this kind of existence, and I just feel empty today.  She is missing out on so much, and it sucks.

·         My computer wasn’t working when I got here, which meant I couldn’t start doing my prep for a class I have to teach tomorrow.

·         It was fixed but now that I go into the database I see that I don’t have everything that I need.

·         A plan that I wrote was rejected, again, by my executive director for – what I think (and my boss thinks) – really stupid reasons. Seriously, some of this information has appeared in prior plans and NOW she doesn’t like it.   UGH.

·         I don’t have lunch so I am more than just very tempted to have ice cream for lunch because really, why not at this point.

·         I can’t seem to make any headway with prepping because the test system keeps locking up on me.

·         I really wish I could restart this day, stay home, and not be so frustrated.

·         It’s 1:30 and I feel like I have accomplished nothing today – except for flirting via text with my significant other, which is a bonus since things have been a little weird between us lately so I guess I accomplished something…..