started 6/2/13 finished 7/8/13

Dear Mom,

There are still lots of times I want to call and talk.  I'd tell you about the crazy shenanigans of your grandchildren and how I'm losing my mind.  I'd ask you how the heck you raised us without killing us.  There are many times I think back now and wonder why you didn't literally wring my neck.  For instance, when I pulled down the chandelier from the ceiling in the living room, or when I'd scream at you at the top of my lungs.  How you kept from slapping my face I will never know.  Jeremy and Jeryl playing sock basketball using the curtain rod as the basket must have been annoying sometimes too.  Now, when I think of the few times I saw tears fall down your face because of us being mean or rude or maybe because you didn't know what else to do with us makes me tear up a little bit, because now I can relate to that feeling.  I'm sorry.  Man, I wish you were here to commiserate with.  Like, did you ever think to yourself, "If I have to clean up one more mess today...  I might....  lose it?  crawl in a hole?  lock myself in my room?  lock my kids in their room?" 

Mallary would just eat you up if you were here.  She would love you!  She asks about you sometimes, and I hear her ask Trevan about you.  I think Trevan kind of brags to her that he remembers you and she doesn't.  Her love language is touch, and she would just love that you would hug her to pieces.  She would also do your hair.  She has taught herself to braid!  Five years old and braiding... maybe she could have even taught you.  She is a determined little girl.  She's in gymnastics and has taught herself how to do handstands and headstands.  She starts in the same swimming class as Trevan tonight too!  She is so teachable.  It really makes me sad sometimes that she is missing out on that relationship she could have had with you, and having such a great grandma like you.

Trevan would still crack you up.  I just can't figure him out.  He still runs around the house like crazy, but doesn't put that same energy into running on the soccer field.  One game this year, I was cheering, and all of a sudden I realized I sounded like you cheering for us at all of our games and such.  I laughed out loud and told my friend next to me that I was my mother!   I wish you could be here so my kids could hear your cheers from the sidelines.  "YAY!!"  You would still marvel at this kids memory.  It kills me.  I wonder if you were here if you'd make him practice his handwriting like your mom did to me when I was young?

Jonah...  Mom, he has one speed and one volume;  fast and LOUD.  Oh my word.  Thank goodness he is so cute...  If you could just be here to help this kid be potty trained, that would be great!  But, he has no interest whatsoever. 

And, Everett...  He's delightful.  John's son for sure being so chatty and friendly.  I've yet to see him make a crusty face - except when I tried to feed him cold applesauce.  That would have made you laugh.  Mallary still talks about it and how funny it was. 

I wish they could have you in their lives...

Mom, I have four kids...  I feel like I can't get anything done.  I guess the fourth does that?  You had five... I now understand why it seemed like you were in the kitchen all day!  Oh, I have tried so many soup recipes you would love!!!!! 

On another note, I'd also give you props for starting a new trend... how did you know gray was going to be the color to paint your walls? You could tell Jeremy he doesn't know anything when he talks about gray walls being so ugly.  I bet he wouldn't say that now.  Though the gray has been painted over now. 

Anyway.... 

Wish you were here. 

XO

Grandpa's Funeral - July 2011

My Grandpa had been sick for a while, like all winter.  Not eating, no energy, not getting up. He was diagnosed with lung cancer, then they changed that to Tuberculosis. It was all so sad. His cancer diagnosis was a catalyst with me getting help for my depression. Had I not gotten help, I probably would have been a HUGE mess.  My Grandpa was one of my very favoritest people in the whole world.

My sister, Marianne and I visited my Grandpa on July 3rd, and honestly, I thought I would see him again, like I thought he could get treated for the TB.  Maybe, had he not been sick so long... We all had to end up getting tested for TB as well.
 

 

 

I feel like my Grandpa's funeral left a little to be desired.  Like it didn't honor him enough for the good person that he was.  After my mom's funeral I felt like everything that I would have wanted said was said, but my Grandpa's funeral left me a little empty.  That made me kind of sad too.  I think the moment I was most sad at his funeral was when some random person was singing one of my Grandpa's favorite songs (and singing it poorly), and a song he sang often, I was probably rolling my eyes to myself at the bad singing, when my great uncle (his brother) who was in front of, or behind me, started singing it softly.  He had a beautiful voice and sounded a little like my Grandpa, and I was so sad knowing I wouldn't be able to sit by Grandpa and listen to play his guitar and sing.  I just love my Grandpa.

Dear Mom,

It's been almost three years, but I still feel like I should be able to pick up the phone and call you...

"Johnson's Pool Room, Eight ball speaking..."

Today is just one of those days I would like to talk to you. Well, yesterday, carried over to today. I just want to hear your voice. Sure, I can imagine the things you'd say, but I'd like to hear you say them, not me imagine you saying them. I'd like to hold your bony, clammy hands, and rest my head on your bony shoulder. I just miss you today.

Your grandkids are crazy. Well, except Jonah. You'd get a kick out of Jonah, and the silly faces he makes, and how he crawls so funny, kind of like Trevan did. Well, I guess you probably can see him from where you are, but I'd like to see your face while watching him. It's sad you aren't here to love on him. He's so loveable.... Can you believe he has only peed on us twice when changing his diaper? Remember, you said you'd never been peed on as much as you were by Trevan? Oh, mom, I am so mad at Trevan. The maddest I have ever, ever been at him. In your words, "I'm going to give him back to the Indians!" When was the maddest you ever got at one of us? How long did it take you to get over it?

I thought of you today when I used a coupon to buy some Neutrogena hand lotion. I remember you always seemed to have a coupon to buy that. It was even super double coupons today, you'd be so proud...

In December, I made a new bread pudding recipe that I know you would have loved. John sent me these cookies for Valentine's Day, you would have loved those too.

You should have seen Mallary in the salon, getting her hair cut yesterday. She sat perfectly still for almost an hour! She loved it. It was so cute. You would have gotten a kick out of that too. On Sunday, John was brushing her hair, and she was screaming because she said it hurt, and he said to me, "Now I know why your mom cut your hair off when you were little." You would have laughed.

I miss our daily chit chats about nothing.

I can't believe it's been almost three years...

I wish you were here. Or there. Or somewhere I could hear your voice.

Love you,
Holly

Holding hands

Two weeks ago, I sat in the Doctor's office, mindlessly flipping through a magazine while waiting to be seen about my early contractions. I couldn't concentrate on the magazine due to my contractions and my worry about going into labor early, and all the anxiety that comes along with that.

The door to go back into the office opened, and a pregnant woman who looked like she could deliver any moment due to the way she was walking, accompanied by someone, obviously her mother, came and sat down a few chairs over from me.

My emotions took over. All of a sudden, I wished my mom was there with me. I could not stop myself from crying. I lowered my head, and raised my magazine to try to hide my face from everyone waiting in the waiting room. At that moment I really missed my mom, and felt a little bit sorry for myself. I eventually pulled myself together and I was finally called back.

The nurse asked her standard questions, and then sent me to the bathroom to give my urine sample, and I lost it again. I could not stop crying. I was just really sad, and being 34 weeks pregnant and emotional didn't help the situation. I eventually pulled myself together again, but lost it off and on a little bit a little while later when checking myself into the hospital, and off and on the first few hours while I was in the hospital, and the rest is history.

Today, we had tornado warnings, and Trevan FREAKED out. It was storming, but John must have been watching basketball, and Trevan heard them talk about the warning on TV during that. He would not come to the dinner table, and I took him in the living room to calm him down. I told him a little about tornadoes, answered some of his questions, and told him if he was really scared he could pray to help him feel better and to be safe. He goes, "Can I pray right now?" It was pretty funny.

You should have seen him as he ate his dinner. He was quite a bit calmer after he prayed, but he really was practically shaking, his eyes kept watering up, and he kept asking questions about tornadoes, thunder, and lightening. We finished eating, but were still sitting at the table, and all of sudden Trevan got down and started walking to the living room.

"Trevan, where are you going?" I asked

"I'm done," he said.

"But, where are you going?"

"I'm going to hide in the bathroom," he stated very matter of factly. (We had told him, that's where we need to go if we hear a tornado.)

Later on tonight, Trevan and I were sitting on the couch in the living room, John was sitting in the floor, and Mallary was dancing to the songs John was singing. Trevan was kind of singing, alternating with humming, trying to be engaged, but I could tell he wasn't. A few minutes earlier we had turned on the TV to see where we stood with the tornadoes, and I think it made him start worrying again, but he wasn't saying anything.

I reached over, and grabbed his hand to hold. He held on, and even moved his other hand to be interlocked with mine as well. We held hands, while we watched Mallary dance, and listened to John sing. I could see the worry so clearly in his face, and it made me get a little choked up...

At that moment, I remembered the feeling I felt while waiting in the Doctor's office two weeks earlier. I think I had just needed and wanted my mother to be there - to reach over and hold my hand. Just like she had when I was scared while I was in labor with Trevan, and just like she had done many other times in my life.

I sat there holding Trevan's hands while my eyes watered. I so wanted to wipe the worry off of his face, and take away his fear. My mom spent most of her life doing just that with her cold, clammy hands. Now, I guess it's my turn - minus the cold, clammy hands.

Adopt a Grandma

It happens when I least expect it.

I was in Macy's shopping for some rain boots (I've been looking for some for two years... Am I that picky? I guess I am...), and as I entered the shoe section I walked by a few older ladies. I saw one lady in particular, with pretty white hair, that when Mallary walked by her she got a big smile on her face. As I walked past, I heard her turn to someone she was with, "Did you see her? She was just adorable."

I proceeded to look at shoes, and eventually asked a sales lady if they had any rain boots, which of course they didn't. (SIDE STORY: Can I just add here that one of my biggest pet peeves is wet jeans from walking outside when it's raining???? I really hate it. AND it's been the rainiest year! AND, I have ruined two pairs of shoes because they got so wet, and now they make my feet stink when I wear them.) Anyway, so I was ready to leave Macy's and move on in my search, but Mallary had taken off her shoes and had been trying on high heels from the sale racks, and was currently wearing a turquoise pair of blinged out flip flops. I asked her quite a few times to take them off, and pick up all the shoes she had gotten out, and to put her shoes back on. Instead of doing that, she hid in and out of the shoe racks. I was starting to get, okay, I was already really annoyed. She came out from under a shoe rack, and the white haired lady came over to her.

"You are so adorable," she said to Mallary. She looked at me and said, "She is so adorable," and then looked at Trevan and said, "and you are very handsome." Then she added the great saying, "You have your hands full." She turned her attention back to Mallary, and said a few things, and then turned to me and said, "I would give anything for just one grandchild, just one!" She was a very sweet older lady. She leaned over to Mallary, and all of a sudden I saw a mixture of my mom and my grandmommy leaning over Mallary. The lady talked to Mallary, and then straightened Mallary's jacket and hat. I was starting to get a little emotional. Then, the lady leaned over and kissed Mallary on the cheek. Yes, I know that may sound weird to you, but it totally wasn't. As the lady stood up, I had to look away so she wouldn't see the tears that had welled up in my eyes. There are just some people in this world who radiate genuine love for others, and she was one of them just like my mother was. Watching that lady interact with my child, was like watching my own mother or grandmother. My heart ached in missing my own mother, and it ached for my children not having my mother here to dote on them like she would have. I almost told the lady she could adopt my kids as her grandchildren.

I left the shoe department listening to that lady behind me gush about my children to whomever she was with. I left the store feeling a little melancholy, and thought about that incident all day.

That afternoon as Mallary screamed in the car the whole way home from Target, (because I didn't let her buckle herself) I thought, "That lady wanted a grandchild - I should have sent Mallary home with her..."

Blogging Book Club

CHAPTER 13 - Flexibility - Adapt or Perish

“Changes in our life can be unpleasant, even frightful: the people we love may not love us as before; our professional competence is failing; our body is weakening; our products are no longer selling as they used to; friends who used to give warmth and support have forgotten us; the activities that once excited us now seem boring and empty.” (p. 183)

“Reality proceeds of its own accord, without considering our hopes and dreams.” (p. 183)

Change...

It may be hard. It may be easy. But, it is inevitable in every facet of our lives. Some people are more flexible in dealing with change; I don’t think I would be categorized as one of those people. I guess it would depend on what the situation was. I don’t think my family would categorize me as an easygoing person, but co-workers have always commented on how easy going I am, and I would like to think that generally, in most situations, I usually am.

When my mom died, it changed me. It changed our family dynamics. It has been catalyst to a lot of other change. Of course it does, death, especially an early death, usually does make that kind of impact. The only benefit I can say about a long-term illness, if there really is any benefit, is that it, in a way, prepares you for the change that is coming. Let me explain.

My mom spent the majority of the last years of her life, sick, weak, exhausted, and any other word like that you want to insert here. So, for the most part, she wasn’t doing her normal things, cooking her normal things, or participating in things as she normally would. I remember one Christmas as we were cooking; I had a sudden awareness of missing her presence in the kitchen. She was sleeping on the couch in the living room, and I remember thinking, while choking back some tears, that this was just a sign of times to come. Our lives were already different, and I realized that we might be being prepared for what it will be like in the years to come.

We knew she wouldn’t live forever, and that her death would come sooner than later. But, I feel like we had some time to prepare for that change, and even adjust to how it might be like when she wasn’t here.

Some change we can prepare for, like moving, or having a baby - but there is change we cannot prepare for, or even prepare ourselves for.

When you know you are going to lose a parent you naturally try to picture what your life may be like without them. For me, I pictured losing a best friend to call when only she would know the right things to say. I pictured delivering my future babies without one of my biggest cheerleaders being there. I pictured holidays and family gatherings missing a very important person. I pictured my children not having their grandmother on the floor playing with them or cheering them on in their endeavors with her trademark, “yaaaay!” Probably one of my least favorite things to picture was my father remarrying. That was something hard to picture, even though my mother told him she wanted him to, and told us she wanted him to. That picture, I always probably hoped wouldn’t happen, or if it did, it would be so far down the road that I would have time to make peace with it when it did.

Well, that’s one thing about change. Unfortunately, it doesn’t wait for you to make peace with it for it to happen.

There are about a thousand different changes that a change like this creates, and it’s not easy for me to be very “flexible” with it all.

“The work of Psychotherapy can be defined as the recovery, or the learning, of flexibility.” (p. 182)

Let me tell you, I think I need some therapy…

“In the face of continual change, Taoism suggests we be as adaptable as water, which flows over and around rocks, bending its shape to flow on. If we can let go of the beliefs we are most fond of, then we can open to the new, to paradox and the absurd.”(p. 183-184)

How hard is it to let go of beliefs we are most fond of, or your “normal” life, as you know it?? And, oh, how truly absurd it all seems – hence why flexibility can be somewhat of a challenge…

The author states that having a flexible attitude enables us “to let go of old models, and we become humble enough to start all over again.” (p. 184)

In losing a parent, and having another parent prepare to remarry, how hard do you think it is to let go of the “old model” of how your family life was and has always been, and then be flexible to have that all be gone and start with something new? Let me tell you, it’s hard.

That alone is hard, and there are a thousand other dynamics that come into play as well.

Every situation is different, and every person handles the situation differently, and it’s hard not to judge others on how they deal with their change.

When I consider change, ideally, it would be nice to ease into it – like I ease into a cold swimming pool. I rarely, ever, ever, jump into a cold swimming pool. Nor, do I want someone to force me into a cold swimming pool; and there is nothing worse than people splashing me with cold water as I’m trying to ease into the pool.

I think I handle change the same way; eventually I’ll get in the water, but don’t try to push me in, and don’t try to pull me in. Don’t try to talk me into it by telling me the advantages of the cold water (because really are there that many?), or entice me by how much fun the cold water is going to be when I get in. Let me get in the water when I’m ready and feel like it. You try to push me in, and we are going to have a problem.

I don’t sound very flexible, do I?

“Reality knows nothing of your plans, and it comes up with ever new ways to pester you. According to recent research, you are bound to meet twenty-three frustrations today (up from thirteen a decade ago). Will you fight or will you dance?” (p. 185)

I might fight; I might dance – depending on the situation.

Obviously, I need to do some stretching –

and then, maybe I’ll be more flexible.

Blog Therapy

I know I have mentioned before the plethora of psychology and human development classes I had to take in college due to changed majors and attending four different colleges. Well, in a lot of those classes I had to learn about Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's stages of grief. For tests, I always remembered them by remembering the word, 'DABDA;' Death, Anger, Bargaining, Denial, and Acceptance. I can say that with the passing of my mom I experienced all of those stages. Though, I think the acceptance part came in stages for me. I eventually accepted her death, but still grieved and mourned. I don't know how accepting of the situation I really was. Within the definition of grieving and mourning is the word sorrow - and I felt a lot of that. I'm not really sure when I stopped feeling it, but I did, and I just realized it recently.

You know how they say sometimes a girl doesn't need to see a therapist, she just needs a good group of girlfriends? Well, I just realized the same thing of a blog.

I have experienced nothing more heartbreaking in my life than watching my mom die, hearing her moan in pain, witness her body transform, and see the hollow look in her eyes. I remember standing in the hospital looking at her frail little body lying in her hospital bed and thinking, "It's not right for a child to have to witness their mother dying."

When we moved from Maryland, and before moving here, I lived with my parents for about five months. There were times when my mom would all of a sudden get an infection inducing a fever, which combined with medication she was taking, and among other reasons made her so lethargic she wouldn't be able to communicate, she would sleep for long periods of time, even fall asleep on the toilet. Holding back tears (and usually being unsuccessful) while trying to get her to take a Tylenol, drink or eat something, or to get her dressed to go to the hospital in those situations were really sad times. Usually, after helping her into the car for my dad to take her to the hospital, I would go back into the house and cry. Those nights I usually cried myself to sleep.

In quiet moments in the days and months after my mom passed away I often thought of her in those conditions; her lying in the hospital bed, her lethargic days, what her eyes looked like, her poor, tiny, frail body, how family and nurses had to take care of her basic needs. I honestly thought I would never forget any of those things, and that they would stay fresh in my memory forever.

But, they haven't.

I'm not quite sure when those thoughts stopped coming, but I think I know what triggered it.

Recently, I realized I couldn't even remember the last time I thought of any of those things, and the images in my head aren't even vivid anymore. They say time eases pain, but I also realized that when I started this blog I started focusing on the good things, and the wonderful things about my mom. Focusing on the wonderful person she was, and all the good things must have turned off those haunting thoughts for me. But, that's how she would want me to remember her; full of life, smiling, serving. She wouldn't want me to remember her when she felt she looked like "the wicked witch of the west." (her words, not mine) She would want me to remember her shaking her booty in the kitchen. Okay, maybe not necessarily that, but she would want me to remember her fun times - not the times when she was ill, and weak.

I just don't feel that sorrow anymore. I feel like I have accepted her death and moved on with my life accordingly. Do I still miss her? Of course! I don't think that ever goes away. A girl would always love to have her mother, right? My Grandmommy (my mom's mom) passed away about ten years ago, and my mom always missed her. Was she depressed over it? No, but you knew she missed her. There are times, seemingly random times, that I miss my mom, and wish she could be here, or that I could talk to her, but, it's not something I dwell on or that I mourn for anymore.

Even after her death, my mom continues to influence my life. Isn't that how it's supposed to be? I would have never started this blog if it weren't for me hearing her voice in my head (while I was reading some stupid blogs) repeating a phrase she often said, "There's too much harshness in the world..."

I'll always miss my mom; but, don't confuse that with me mourning or grieving for her. I've crossed that bridge, and I think focusing on her goodness on this blog has helped me get there.

Get comfortable...

It seems no one ever talks about grief or grieving. I mean, I understand why it isn't a common blog post; it isn’t the happiest of topics, and I know people are often uncomfortable around or unsure of what to say to someone that loses a loved one. Take me for example, one of my friend’s dads passed away recently, and as I sat in front of this computer trying to figure out what to email her, I was at a loss of words. You would think that I, having just lost my mother, would be able to send some words of comfort having just gone through a similar experience. But, I think it made it harder. I knew there was nothing I could say to take away the hurt or sadness she may be feeling, there are no words that can do that for someone in that position. All you can say is you’re sorry, you love them, you’re thinking of them, and praying for them.

I’m not really sure why I am writing about this on my blog, a place that is supposed to be a cheerful, little happy place. Maybe we’ll just consider this one of my public service announcements. There is no humor in this topic, even though some people may choose to deal with their grief using humor, but this post will not be very humorous.

Websters says grief is intense emotional suffering caused by loss, disaster, misfortune, etc. Obviously, grief can be caused by something other than losing a loved one. I definitely experienced intense emotional suffering after a long relationship with my ex boyfriend/fiancé ended. In fact, the same Sunday afternoon I found out that he was getting married, my dad told me that my mom had cancer. Talk about a one-two punch.

Other than going through that breakup, I had never really experienced any other kind of major loss, or major enough to call it grieving. I have been to A LOT of funerals in my life, and sure, some were sad, but I never felt any real grief. Due to my plethora of Psychology and Human Development classes in college I was well aware of Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’s stages of grief, but I had no idea what “grieving” actually was or just how multifaceted it really is.

When my mom died I grieved, in all essence of the word, but not just for myself.

I grieved for my mom.
I grieved for my dad.
I grieved for my siblings.
I grieved for my children.
I grieved for my husband and my in-laws.
I grieved for my nieces and nephews.
I grieved for my grandparents.
I grieved for my mother’s family.
I grieved for my father’s family.
I grieved for my mother’s friends.
I grieved for myself some more.

I guess before my mom died I was so caught up with feeling sorry for myself, and sorry for her, and my family, I hadn’t even thought about other people that would grieve from losing her. As her death grew near, I started noticing that I wasn’t just grieving for myself anymore. My heart ached as I saw the eyes of family friends well up as they visited her in the hospital, or the day when John told her, “see you later”, and we both knew it would most likely be the last time he would say that to her. I think, that just then I realized my husband was sad too, and my heart hurt for him too. I started grieving for everyone else too, and it was a new kind of emotion for me.

I then realized that grief brings out another emotion, love. When you watch someone grieve for someone you love, it makes you love that person more. Does that make sense? Seeing my mother’s friends grieve at their loss made me realize it wasn’t just my loss - everyone she loved lost.

In my religion when we are baptized we make certain promises or covenants, and one of those is to mourn with those that mourn. For some reason it seems like when someone you love dies you have the plague (especially for the spouse I think). Some people are so afraid of not knowing what to say, they avoid you, not intending to make you an outcast, but it seems to happen sometimes. Isn’t that sad that as humans we are afraid of reaching out to another human at least to say we are sorry, or to help ease their loneliness? Especially if we have made promises that we will do so, to mourn with those that mourn, to help make their burdens light. I know it’s hard to figure out what to say to someone who has just lost someone they loved, I told you I was in that same place just a few weeks ago, I know.

I do know what NOT to say. I couldn’t tell my friend I knew how she felt, because I didn’t. I can relate to some feelings she may be feeling, but I can’t tell her I know how she feels. My relationship with my mom would be different than her relationship with her dad, and so on. When I would have to tell someone that my mom had just passed away and they didn’t know her, they would say they were sorry and I would literally want to scream at the top of my lungs, “YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS BEING TAKEN AWAY FROM ME RIGHT NOW! AWAY FROM THE WORLD! YOU HAVE NO IDEA!” Seriously. Obviously, they would have no idea that is how I felt. Please, don’t tell someone you know how he or she feels. I understand that people have good intentions, but no one knows how another person feels. As to my friend, I know it stinks losing a parent, and that she will feel horrible, I can relate to how she may be feeling, but I don’t KNOW how she feels.

After I returned from my mother’s funeral, someone (with good intentions, I know) told me they knew how I felt because they were headed to see their mom who was dying. I couldn’t respond to that person. They had no idea how I was feeling. I understand losing your mother at any age is not easy, but they were going to say goodbye to their mother who was quite old who had lived to see some of her great grandchildren born. They had no idea how I felt about losing my mother who died so young not able to even see all of her grandchildren born. Don’t tell me you know how I feel.

Also, that same day someone came up to me (with good intentions again, I know) and said, “don’t you just feel… peace.” I honestly was a little stunned. I know what they meant, but I was a little hurt at the same time. No! I didn’t feel peace. I believe that families are forever, and know that I will see my mom again, and that made it easier, but I didn’t feel peace, not then anyway. I’m sorry, but watching your mom’s shrinking body basically helpless in a hospital bed, and having to watch her in pain for so long before does not equal peace. Losing your mom when you are 28 years old is not a peaceful experience. Watching those you love, grieve, is not a peaceful experience either. No, I did not feel peace. (I will, however, add that my mom’s hospital room those last two weeks was a peaceful place, there was a very peaceful feeling there, almost holy…) But, I wasn’t at peace with losing her, not yet, and for someone to come up to me and say that felt insensitive, even though I know she meant well. We should try to be sensitive to how they may be feeling (Like when I had a miscarriage in between Trevan and Mallary and someone called and said they were sorry and in the next breath said, “exciting news, so and so had their baby today.” I know they didn’t mean to be insensitive…) Goodness knows I have probably stuck my foot in my mouth so many times, but we really should make a conscious effort to be more sensitive.

What do we say? What do we do? We say we are sorry, we show we are sorry and that we love them. Don’t ask if there is anything you can do in those situations, just DO something, just SAY something (I’m sorry, I love you, I’ve been thinking about you, I’m praying for you). Honestly, my neighbors don’t think it is a big deal, but when I came home a few days after my mom’s funeral and found him mowing our yard, that really meant a lot to me. They didn’t wait to ask if there was anything they could do, they just did something to show us they were thinking about us, and wanted to help.

Grieving… there’s a whole range of feelings. Anger, hurt, the sadness… it lessens, eases up with time, but it also takes on new shapes. “Grief” could come at the thought of your father remarrying (call me selfish) and your family having to adjust to yet another major change (this isn’t an announcement, just a natural worry of a child that loses a parent, or to this child that lost a parent). Or, like yesterday, I woke up, fed the kids, blogged, put Mallary down for a nap, made cookies, and thought, “Here’s a quiet moment, I should call my mom...” You get back into the swing of things, and then a thought like that forces you to pause and catch your breath. It’s been over a year, but those moments still occur, and I’m sure will for a long time.

I don’t write this post for sympathy. I am good. Seriously. This is not a cry for help, but maybe a cry of awareness. Grief isn’t really talked about and I didn’t really understand it until I went through it. But, don’t be afraid to say something to someone you know that’s lost someone. We all grieve differently but it is important that we don’t let each other grieve alone.

Happy Mother's Day

My mom holding Mallary

“If I were to die today, what would my children remember about me?” A bit morbid, I know, but I often consider this thought. It is scary to think of how your children will be raised if you were to die. I know mine are still young, but would they remember anything about me? Would Trevan remember I taught him how to use good manners? Is Mallary just going to remember what my back looks like when I’m working on the computer? Will she remember me rocking her and singing to her? Will the sound of a sewing machine remind them of their mother? Will the TJ Maxx or Marshalls logo make Trevan think of me? Will they remember how often I threw up my hands in frustration while sighing my famous sigh at having to clean up another mess? I’m hoping that they would at least remember my laughter or their silly mommy dancing in the kitchen or in the car. I really do worry what would happen to my children if I were to die. What kind of influence can I have on their lives if I am not around? What stories will they hear about me? Will they know how much I loved them? What my dreams were? What kind of people I hoped they would become?

The possibility of dying and not being able to teach my children the things I want them to know scares me. Am I the only one? What am I leaving them to remember? What lessons will they have learned from me? Do I have the things I want them to know written down somewhere?

After losing my mother last year, I thought about these things even more. I mentioned before how much I treasure my mothers letters to me, and being able to have her journal to read anytime I would like to. Well, last year on mother’s day I started a new tradition of writing a letter to each of my children on Mother’s Day. I will compile them someday and give them to them. So, if I were to leave earlier than I’d hoped, they would know at least a little bit about me, the things I love and believe, and how much I loved them and felt so very fortunate to be their mother. Having had just lost my mother, in each letter I included a little something about Grandma and something that she taught me. That will also be part of the tradition to help them learn a little bit about her and how much she loved them.

One year ago, the first weekend of April, I had my last real conversation with my mother. We were up visiting for conference weekend. We watched conference in the living room as my tiny mother slept stretched out in her make shift bed on the love seat, listening to her snoring come and go. She rested a lot that weekend. I wished I had kept a journal then and written all of this fresh when it happened. I remember her waking up to greet us and exchanging kisses, her playing in the floor with Trevan for a little while, and her wanting to see the scar on my back from my most recent mole removal surgery.

When you know your mother is dying, you find yourself a bit desensitized from the constant resting and discomfort while at the same time wanting to curl up next to her and sob. You try to focus on everything else going on around you to distract you from the sadness (desensitizing myself as a way of coping). I tried to focus on conference that day, because the moment I let my mind drift back to my mother asleep across the room, the tears would start to come.

Later that afternoon Mom had been resting on her bed, and I went up and sat on Dad’s side assuming the normal position, one foot tucked under me, the other one resting on the bed rail.

I am sure I asked how she was feeling, and I am sure she asked what was going on downstairs. That weekend mom wasn’t really carrying on long conversations, and the conversations were kind of random.

“Mom, can I look at your buttons some time to use for some of my crafts?” I asked. That wasn’t the real reason I was there, but I had been thinking about it.

Silence for a little while. Intermittent, random conversation.

I couldn’t hold it back any longer, and I started to cry, “Mom, I’m just so sad.” “Aren’t you just so sad, and frustrated that you have to deal with this?” “Doesn’t it just make you mad?” I can’t remember all the other things I said, but I just let it go. “You deserve to enjoy growing old with dad, and doing all those things you wanted to do.”

My mom was quiet for a few seconds then started, “Your father and I have shared so much. We have had so many special moments through this that I wouldn’t trade for anything. There have been so many miracles.” Then she got emotional, “I just feel so sorry that he has had to deal with all of this.” She got a little more emotional, “Holly, soon I get to see a lot of my family that I haven’t seen in a long time, and look forward to meeting some I have never met before. I will miss my grandchildren, and it makes me sad I won’t get to see Trevan and Mallary grow up. I love my grandchildren so much. I know I’m a child of God. I know that He loves me.”

There was more conversation like this, but I can’t remember any of it. There was silence for a while, and then my mom said, “Make sure to stay on top of your weight. I know it’s hard when you’re nursing.” (I think she remembered we had just had a conversation on the phone about me trying to lose weight) “Ummm, mom, I’m not really worried about it, it will be easier when I stop nursing.”

More silence, and then mom breaks it by saying, “Let’s go look at the buttons.”

I really wasn’t ready for our conversation to end.

“Mom, we don’t have to do that right now.”

She was already out of the bed and walking out of the room. Wiping my eyes I followed her down the hall and down the stairs. “Mom, we don’t have to do this right now.”

She got in the floor and started rummaging through the white cabinets. “Mom, I can do that.”

“Why is your mother in the floor?” (I knew my Dad was going to say that as soon as he walked into the room.) “What is she doing in the floor?” “Mary, get out of the floor.” (yes, out of the floor, not off)

“Dad, I asked her about buttons… I didn’t mean right now… already tried…”

That evening, saying good-bye to my mom was so hard. I think I put it off as long as I could. I hugged her and just held on knowing it would probably be one of the last times. I cried as John backed the car out of the driveway, and I cried off and on the whole trip home.

Mom was put in the hospital soon after that, and passed away about two weeks after that weekend.

You’ve seen those deathbed scenes in movies and on TV, the person dying seems to always have some message for the people they are leaving behind. Last words of wisdom, making people make promises, etc. I expected it to be like that. Mom didn’t say a lot in the hospital, she was kept pretty sedated because of her pain. During that last week while sitting by her bedside, part of me expected her to all of sudden wake up and have some last words of wisdom for us. She didn’t do that, and honestly, I was a little disappointed. Didn’t my mother have any last words of wisdom to leave me? Didn’t she want me to promise to do something?

How silly of me.

Seriously, just within the past few months I realized that my mother didn’t need to leave me with any last words, or advice. She left me with her life full of examples of how I should be living. She didn’t need to make me promise anything; she’s taught me my whole life. I know what she would expect of me, and what she would hope I would be doing. I don’t know why I thought she would feel the need to add anything more.

The only thing she really said while in the hospital was, “I love you.” I think that was the only thing important enough to her for her to muster up the energy to say. Though, I really didn’t need her to tell me that, I knew she loved me - she spent my whole life showing me and telling me that she did.

Hopefully, my children will be able to say the same of me.

Introductions

WHO:

I'm Holly. I love weddings, party planning, cooking, and dishes (not to be confused with washing dishes). I love laughing (and I don't do enough of it), and I love making other people laugh (doesn't it feel good?). I love food, GOOD FOOD; seafood, Indian food, appetizers, fondue, and most anything cooked in a ramekin. I love shopping, being organized, and spinning (more of a love/hate relationship). I love Christmas, the beach, did I already say good food? I love my husband, my son, and my daughter. I love my family, and I love my friends.

WHAT:

It's all about the sunshine; feeling it, living it, loving it.

WHEN:

I really love mornings, but my nights don't allow me to love the mornings. Typically, I go to bed late to very late. Ideally, I would love to get up in the morning before my children wake up and have my own morning routine while enjoying some quiet time. However, their cheerful little souls feel the need to arise promptly at 6am. So, my goal is to post in the morning, hence, the Good Morning Sunshine. I am going to try to start my day off on a positive note.

WHERE:

Here, at my poorly painted computer desk, using my old computer, with my super sensitive spastic mouse that ensures we triple click on every item on every page.

WHY:

Last summer I was reading through some blogs out there in the blogosphere and maybe it was a bad day, but all the blogs I came across were so negative, sarcastic, and cynical. Then, I heard my mother's voice in my head saying, "there is too much harshness in the world today." (something she would say occassionally) It was then I decided I was going to start my own blog, but it would only be positive and happy, none of my whining or sarcasm would be allowed. And, if you know me, I tend to be whiny and sarcastic, so the challenge is on. SIDENOTE: I have since found some fantastic positive, uplifting blogs.

My mom passed away about a year ago at the age of 58 from Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. Everyone deals with death and manages their grief in different ways, but after she died I just wanted to feel her close to me. So, the following weeks after her death I tried to find all the letters that she had written me. Somehow, reading them made her feel alive to me, as if she had written the letter yesterday, and not four years ago.

I struggle finding a balance between not thinking about her and thinking about her too much. It is easier to cope when you stay busy - pushing sadness to the back of your mind. Usually in quiet moments, (and there aren't many of those as a stay at home mom who's trying to manage her own businesses) like rocking my daughter to sleep, my thoughts turn to her, and I miss that she isn't here to talk to, to hug me and encourage me, or to lift me up. So, I try to stay busy and not think about her because it usually brings sadness. But, the other part of me loves to think of her, and her smile, and her silliness, and her love because it makes her feel closer to me. There is a fine balance to find.

For Christmas, my dad gave my siblings and I a book he compiled himself of his memories of my mom (they knew each other since junior high), his journal of their last year together, and her last journal. It was the perfect gift for me to keep her memory, her smile, and her words alive. Though, I could only read it in bits and pieces - too many tears can be overwhelming at times. But, it was the perfect thing for me to have her words and her memories at my fingertips. It helped me remember her happy and healthy, and not focus on the end of her life.

I started thinking, what will my children have to read of mine? My journal as a child that talks about crazy boy crushes, fights with my friends and my sister? Oh boy. I don't think those are memories I want to keep alive, and for sure I don't want that to be the only thing my grand children have to read of mine.

It took me a long time to start this blog, because I just couldn't justify taking the time to do it. I could not add another thing for me to do. Then, I realized I should be writing in a journal anyway, and heavens knows I am not doing that. So, here is my new sort of journal that will include tidbits of my life presently, and stories from my childhood, and stories and lessons learned from my mother.

This blog has a few different purposes:

1. Remembering my mom, and honoring her life as I try to become a more positive, loving person like her. Keep in mind: baby steps

2. Having my words, interests, and life written for my children to read, because I love to read what my mother wrote.

3. Yet, another creative outlet for me. (as if I need another one)

4. To have a place where friends can catch up with me.

5. To help me SLOW DOWN. If you are someone I stay in touch with, you know I am a lazy, hurried writer in my emails, comments on blogs, my family blog, etc. So, something on my New Year's To Do List was to SLOW DOWN, (not just in writing, but in my life too... still working on it). I have always loved to write. When I was younger, I wrote many "books," and probably more "plays" (with me as the lead, of course). What is sad, is I don't have any of those anymore, (because (SIDE STORY, you'll see I do a lot of these) when my parents were doing some remodeling all of the stuff in a certain part of my room was put in a very large black trash bag, which ended up being confused as trash, which ended up rotting in a landfill somewhere). But, I love to write, and I am going to force myself to slow down so that I can do it.

***DISCLAIMERS***

1. Sorry if the music bugs you, there is a pause button.

2. I didn't want to start my blog until it was perfect. Well, I can't wait for perfection, so I gave up, and will get around to adding a sunshiney picture to my blog heading someday (or not).

3. I don't take very good pictures, maybe I will put that on next years New Year To Do List. I also don't look good in pictures. My husband told me I looked depressed in my other picture I had posted, he said the one shown was a little better.

4. There may be long posts. This is a sort of journal, and I have Conversational ADD (I am sure that is a real disorder, I will look it up in my old Abnormal Psych. text book). Some people call it rambling, I'll call them SIDE STORIES. A person needs all the background information, right?