journaling for the future

I started a journal for Cha before she was born.  I'd write all the typical pregnancy details, telling her how much she was loved and wanted and then wrote out her birth story and her first few days of life.  The journal includes ramblings on different topics I want her to know, and the 'real story' of things that are happening in her child hood.   Such as, the real reason she's not allowed in a neighbor kid's house (because there are some drug issues and police involvement).

Such is the case for many new moms, I wrote in it pretty regularly for a while.  And then I stopped.   In my mind I didn't realize that I had stopped tho.   Every night when I lay with her, putting her to bed, I write out in my mind journal entries.   I draft them in my head with the intention of getting up once she fell asleep and put them down on paper.   But then I'd fall asleep.

The other night I actually managed to stay awake and after she was out I got up and grabbed the book.   I crept downstairs and sat on the couch to get caught up on my writing.  I still can't believe what I saw.

The last entry in the book was September 29, 2006.   The day of her first birthday.   How is it possible that I haven't written anything in six years?!  What was most disappointing was that I began the journal entry with how I was excited to celebrate her first birthday with.....

Then I stopped mid sentence.   Ugh.   I remember her first birthday clearly, tho I couldn't tell all the details.  The food, the presents, her milestones.  They are a faded memory.  Not that it's necessarily important for her to know these things, but I actually enjoyed reading all the details up til that point.  I had forgotten a bit of what was written, to be honest. 

Such as this....when Cha was three weeks old we drove out west to introduce her to my parents and the rest of the family.  I was a very nervous and unsure new mom and I was having a hard time with breastfeeding and pumping and making sure I wasn't breaking her.  We were driving in Ohio and Cha had a massive blow out so we pulled over so I could change her.  The blow out was so horrific that it was up her shirt, both front and back.  The smell was almost blinding.   I was not the most calm or graceful new mother so changing a mess of a diaper in the back seat of the car (did I mention it was 2 in the morning??) had me frazzled.   Since I was a new mom and lacked experience I failed to pack a plastic bag to dispose of dirty diapers.  There was no way I was going to keep that stink in the car so I threw it over my shoulder, onto the side of the side on the Ohio Turnpike.  And that's when the state patrol pulled up and shined his light on me.   I thought for sure he was going to arrest me for littering, or at least force me to go pick up the diaper.  He got out of his car and started walking up to me.  I cried out that my daughter had gotten sick and I had to change her clothes.  He stopped dead in his tracks and thankfully kept his distance.  He kept the spot light on me and waited for us to finish and drive off before he moved.  

I tell this story to Cha every time we drive out west.   She actually tells the story now and points out where it happened (she claims to remember the spot).  Only it didn't happen in Ohio, it was Indiana, so says the journal.   Thankfully the rest of it is correct.

So the other night I forced myself to stay up late and fill the journal in with the highlights of the last six years.   I only got four years updated and skipped most of the details, which is sad because as they say the beauty is in the details.

Two days ago was the third anniversary of my brother's death.  As expected, it hit me hard.  I talked to Cha about him and I recounted some of my favorite memories.   We talked about the drive out to my parent's house after he died and all the details surrounding that trip (including her calling the St. Louis Arch the castle where her brother lives).  She asked how Uncle Keith died and I told her he was very sick and his body just broke down.  That's enough to hold off a seven year old.   In the journal however I wrote more detailed information regarding mental illness, depression and suicide.   I'm hoping the 20 year old girl I imagine her to be when she reads this book will appreciate the honesty and agree that seven is a bit to young for such heavy topics.  I also want her to know how powerfully strong her grandmother was, and understand how her death hit me so hard.

I'm looking forward to the day when she's old enough for adult conversations.

April 21

Dear Mom,

Happy 70th Birthday.  This is the second birthday since you have passed and I'm just going to continue counting.   Had you still been here with us I wonder what we would have done to celebrate your big day.   I wonder where you'd be living and how healthy you would be.   I wonder if your children would still be talking to each other or your grandchildren for that matter.  And I wonder if you're spending today with your birthday buddy Aunt Florence, as you always do.   Tell her happy birthday from Cha and I and give her a hug on her first birthday in heaven.

Seven years ago when Matt and I were getting married and I picked your birthday as our anniversary I had no idea how emotional this day could be.   I hadn't thought out what would happen with our anniversary after you had passed, and how there would forever be a twinge of sadness.   My first thought this morning was not 'Happy Anniversary to my darling husband' it was 'It's Mom's birthday.'   We will be having fun and enjoying the day to honor both special occasions but if I could turn back time I'd make sure that each received their own day.

I miss you terribly and still think of you every day.   I have your wedding ring on a chain and on days when we have something fun scheduled I wear you around my neck so you can join us.   I don't have to take pictures of your granddaughter and send them to you, because you are there watching every moment.  

A funny story - I keep your urn on my bookcase, right next to Brother Keith.  A while back Cha and I turned the music up and were dancing from her room to ours.  She was really bouncing and when I looked up at the bookcase Keith's urn was rocking back and forth. What a dancing fool.  I took a video of it and really should post it because it was funny. 

This weekend we are planting flowers, going to brunch, stopping by a book reading and attending the Dogwood Pageant.  And missing you.   Tonight we're baking a little cake in your honor.

I love you and miss you and am grateful for the life you gave me.   

gottahava wawa (and a good cry)

I work from home on Fridays. I usually start the day by dropping off Cha at school (or the bus) and running to Wawa for coffee. Wawa is our local convenience store, similar to 7-11, Circle-K or am-pm and in my not so humble opinion, they have the best coffee on the planet. They are a mini town center, where you can meet and greet your neighbors and get caught up in what's going on in the 'hood. They are also just about the only place where I feel comfortable wearing PJs in public.

The store was especially crowded this morning, tho I couldn't tell you why. Three registers were open with the same three cashiers I see every week. The lotto machine was down and customers were joking with employees about how it got broken. I got third in line behind a guy who also had a cup of coffee in hand. A buddy of his tapped him on the shoulder and asked if he could cover a 24 oz cup. He said go ahead and the buddy went to the back of the store to get his coffee.

One of the assistant managers announced to us that another line was open with no waiting, but I didn't want to move, and neither did the guy ahead of me. When he got to the front of the line the cashier said hello and asked if he wanted cigarettes, his regular order. He said yes and thank you and then the cashier said she hadn't seen him in a while and asked where he'd been. He said his father just died, pancreatic cancer, he fought for 18 months. The guy was out for three weeks helping with the arrangements and spending time with his mom.

When his transaction was finished his buddy called out from behind me about his coffee. The guy said he forgot and asked the cashier to ring him up. She did and he turned to me and apologized. Behind my tears I told him no problem and that I was sorry about his dad and that I had just lost my mother too. He said thanks.

Nearly a year and a half later and the pain of losing my mother still feels 'just'. When the guy left the cashier said 'You may think you may be, but you're never ready to lose a parent.' All I could say is 'Cancer sucks'.

I'll be enjoying my coffee over a good cry.

Miss you mom.

Peggy Noonan, Tom Sizemore, Michael Stipe and Mom

One of my favorite R.E.M. songs reminds me of one of my favorite movie scenes ever which is the topic of one of my favorite essays.

From Peggy Noonan's Everybody's Shot (a must read):

There's a small but telling scene in Ridley Scott's "Black Hawk Down" that contains some dialogue that reverberates, at least for me. In the spirit of Samuel Johnson, who said man needs more often to be reminded than instructed, I offer it to all, including myself, who might benefit from its message.

The movie, as you know, is about the Battle of the Bakara Market in Mogadishu, Somalia, in October 1993. In the scene, the actor Tom Sizemore, playing your basic tough-guy U.S. Army Ranger colonel, is in charge of a small convoy of humvees trying to make its way back to base under heavy gun and rocket fire. The colonel stops the convoy, takes in some wounded, tears a dead driver out of a driver's seat, and barks at a bleeding sergeant who's standing in shock nearby:

Colonel: Get into that truck and drive.
Sergeant: But I'm shot, Colonel.
Colonel: Everybody's shot, get in and drive.

"Everybody's shot." Those are great metaphoric words.

Today is the anniversary of my mom's death. Somehow it's comforting to know that everyone's mom dies. We're all in this together.



R.E.M. just announced that they are breaking up. Sad news.

gonna need a big balloon

I started working on a letter to my mom. Next Thursday is the first anniversary of her death and I plan on attaching the letter to a balloon and releasing it to the sky. There are many things Ive been wanting to say and I hope the letter will give me a bit of peace.

The location of the release is a bit surprising. It makes sense to do it in a place where I feel close to her. My parents lived at least 1,000 miles away for over half my life. We were never physically close but we spoke and visited quite often.

One special visit was just two years ago when my parents came out to PA. They stayed in a hotel up the road from us and one of my favorite pictures of my mother is a shot in front of that hotel. Cha and I were waiting in the hotel for their arrival and my little girl was so excited when she first saw their car, then her Grandma and then her Grandpa. It was emotional for me to stand back and watch her embrace her grandparents.

We drive by that hotel nearly every day and Cha calls it 'Grandma's house'. I feel close to her when I see it and a piece of me believes that a piece of her lives on in that hotel.

Now to find a balloon big enough to carry the load.

love you mom

One year ago today my mother was diagnosed with MDS. In six weeks we will mark the one year anniversary of her death. I am still stunned that she's gone. Not a day goes by that I do not think of her.

I put this video together several years ago after she battled lymphoma. Cheesy and cliche, but still makes me cry.

It's my mom, as I saw her. She was her children and her grandchildren and was present in every moment of my life.

Miss you Mom.

mom, i had a funny dream

Cha woke up in a great mood and told me she had a funny dream. She climbed up on my lap and went on and on with the details. I really wanted to stop and grab my camera to catch every word, but I didn't want to ruin the moment.

In her dream she went to the beach. All alone. I asked if she drove by herself and she said a blue whale took her. She was standing outside and yelled at a passing blue whale 'Let's go to the beach!' He stopped and allowed her to climb on his back. Then he took off, and because this was a special blue whale with wings, they flew high in the air and she laughed the whole way.

He landed on her beach towel, which she found funny since he had his own right next to hers. All the people at the beach were happy to see him because it was hot and he provided shade. 'It's a good thing he gave us shade because he used my umbrella as a lollipop.'

She pulled two tubes of 'scunscreen' out of her beach bag. The blue whale used his fins to put lotion on Cha and she needed a giant tube to put it on him. Then they had fun playing in the water.

Dream over. 'Isn't that funny?!', she said.

Last week my mother showed up in a dream. It was the first time I felt that she is with me always. My father was also in the dream. He invited Cha and I over for dinner and asked for my help fixing the fence in his backyard. While I was out back pulling weeds that were breaking down the fence I turned to see my mother lead Cha into the playroom to color and read books. Not only is my mother always there, she's still lending a hand.

On an unrelated note, my mother's aunt passed away yesterday. She had been in a home for the past couple of months and I was fortunate to spent time with her on our recent visit. There were moments when she was aware that I was there. I brought the younger nieces, including Cha and we jabbered about our vacation. The last few visits I went alone and spent quiet time in prayer, asking God for a peaceful ending. (She was asking for one too.) She was a special person and left behind some pretty incredible memories.

Simply Stated

'Yep, it's cancer.'

'She didn't make it.'

'They found Jay.'

Three little sentences that sit heavily on my heart.

a dream

True Story.

Last night I had a dream that I went to prison. The beginning of the dream was very involved and detailed the process of getting to the cell. Not that I have any idea what going to prison is like, but my dream made it seem very frustrating.

There were long lines with miserable and scary people, terrible smells, itchy clothing and fear. There were hundreds of us, men and women, being processed and that part of the dream was certainly a nightmare.

Once we were behind the bars I ran into one of my mom friends. There was no mention of what brought us there but we clutched each other and giggled a little bit behind our fear.

One mom friend turned into two and then there were six. And then a pool and hot tub appeared, and internet access, and video chatting with family members. Looking across the hall we could see the husbands who were watching TV and playing cards. Then one of the guards started sneaking our kids in to see us. Our cells became bigger and we made them more homey. The kids got to sleep over and covered the walls with pictures.

We'd meet up with the husbands/dads in the prison yard which grew a pond with a gazebo and we all got a chance to fish. After a while that prison turned into quite a beautiful place.

It's been nearly ten years since my husband and I met. We were both recently divorced and he answered my online personal ad. Ten crazy years. I guess that was on my mind last night before I went to bed.

Thanks Mom!

44 years ago today my mom caught pneumonia while driving to UCLA med center in a convertible in the rain to give birth to me.

She told that story many times over the years, and it usually ended in 'Damn kid'.

Miss you mom. Thanks for everything.

Wednesday's Dream

I had it Monday night, actually but I'm still feeling it today. That's a powerful dream.

In the dream my mother was actively dying. It was a slow painful death that we all knew was coming. I was by her side every moment for months (which did not happen) and it was exhausting. In my dream I left my mother's side to run home and be with Matthew. I ran into his arms screaming that I could not survive if my mother died. I explained that my heart would stop beating with hers and there was no way I would make it without her. Matthew held me and assured me I would survive but I was certain I would die.

Waking up was bittersweet. The reality that my mother was indeed gone and that I am still alive was overwhelming. I am still alive six months later, something I dreamed was impossible.

Monday night was the final night of the bereavement group I have been attending. It was a six week session with six other individuals dealing with loss. It was educational and emotional. It also helped me heal. My grief and that of the fellow survivors was on my mind when I went to sleep that night, which I'm sure is behind the dream. I never thought I would make it a day but it's already been six months. Sad but hopeful.

This week I am alive and things are going well, or at least pretty good. I am ready to be happy and genuinely smile again.

Miss Cha had a dream recently where she married a boy named Josh. She made the announcement as soon as she woke up. She usually tells me her dreams in the car on the way to school.

She also cut her bangs in school two weeks ago. Here's what I stared at in the rear view mirror on the way home. She now sports a very uneven pixie cut. : (

Tears

I was sad when I woke up this morning. Not really sure why, I was just sad. I tried to will it away and have a good morning with my family of three. Cha and I snuggled on the couch watching one of our shows until Matt got up and joined us. I got off the couch and made breakfast for the three of us and then we sat down and ate while we talked about the day. So many things to do.

We drove out to the outlets to get new pants for Cha. She has picked up the habit of crawling on the floor for fun, and keeps putting holes in the knees of her pants. The entire drive I continued to feel sad. At one point I started talking to Matt about my Dad which led me to talk about my Mom. Then it hit me that today is the 22nd, four months to the day since my mother died. That explains it I guess.

When we got home I sat down to get caught up on email and my favorite blogs. That's when I learned the terribly sad news about Daria, a breast cancer sister who passed away early this morning. I've been following her journey over the years and prayed for her many times. I cried when I read the post from her husband about her passed. It all happened so fast. Just like my mother, one day she was there and then life was over. I guess it's better than the agony of slow and painful death.

The 22nd is just a sad day, no matter what month.

Hurting

Confession: I am a friggen mess. Usually over the span of 24 hours I am angry, sad, depressed, anxious, bitter, melancholy, tired, achy, tense, overwhelmed, overstimulated, guilty, worried, cranky, sorry, grateful, and irritable with the more than occasional hot flash. Some days I can't stand to be me and prefer to keep my nightmare mood swings to myself. I have been assured by professionals that this will pass. I am desperately counting on it.

We are holding a memorial service for my mother and brother at the end of the month. That, in addition to the upcoming one year anniversary of my brother's suicide is taking a toll on my mental health. I have to keep reminding myself that it will get better.

The service will be held at the church where my parents were married. I've heard wonderful things about the pastor who will be performing the service but I've never met him and he did not know Mom or Keith. He asked if I, along with other family and friends, would email him stories and background to include in her sermon. Easier said than done.

Every day I tell myself that I've got to start writing something down about my mother. I never get more than a paragraph before I completely shut down. It's just too painful. I have beautiful memories of my mother. Great stories of fun times and moments of side splitting laughter. As I'm sitting here a dozen memories flashed before me but I cannot bring myself to think of them too long, and certainly not spend the time to write them down. Once the tears start I can't control when they stop, so I do what I can to keep them from starting. Memories force me to acknowledge that my mother is really gone forever. They slap me in the face with the truth that there will be no more laughing with my mom. No more phone calls. No more hugs or smiles or goofy times. Remembering happy times is too damn hard.

On the flip side, I had very little trouble writing something down about Keith. I shared the harsh reality of my brother's life and his death. I wrote of his love for his children and also the sadness in his world. I cried while I typed and had to stop several times to catch my breath. That said, it is much more difficult to think about the good times than the bad. In my email to the pastor I told him I was still working on something for my mom, but it will come later.

The pastor called me this afternoon after he read my email about Keith. I wasn't emotionally prepared to speak to him so I let his call go to voicemail. Several hours later I listened to the message and had a bit of a breakdown. He said what needed to be said and what I needed to hear. He's a man of compassion and I have faith he will do a beautiful job on the sermon.

This is all so hard. Every single bit of it. I go to suicide support meetings every month and see my therapist weekly. I thought I was handling things 'okay' but it feels like I've only touched the surface of recovery. Trying to wrap my heart around the loss of my mother on top of everything else is simply overwhelming.

I spoke to my dad tonight after I listened to the pastor's message. It was a good chat and we both admitted that we're looking forward to the service being over with. I know it is very important for the family and will provide much healing, but honestly the day after can't come soon enough.

23 days and counting.

A long overdue Thankful Thursday

Life has been kinda crappy but there's always something to be thankful for.

1. I am thankful for the family in Collegeville who purchased a brand new, fancy washing machine which led them to post their old one on Craigslist. Our machine went kaput two weeks ago and while I was getting used to hanging out at the public washer I am very thankful to have a working machine in my basement again. It's a super nice one too and quite a bargain at only $100.

2. I am thankful that Cousin Missy came out of surgery fine and dandy this week. I will always toast to her health.

3. I am thankful that Cha's high fever and complaints that her sides and back hurt was nothing more serious than another bladder infection. When her school called this morning and said she was running a 103 fever I had fears of appendicitis. She was in a lot of pain but the motrin, tylenol and suprex have made her feel much better in the last 12 hours.

4. I am thankful that the weather has been amazing this week. It's been in the mid to high 70s all week. It's crazy shorts weather! We are heading back down to the 50s this weekend, but that's perfect Halloween weather so it's all good.

5. I am thankful for Resolve Carpet Cleaner. With two cats, a dog, a 5 year old and a messy spouse, Resolve has been a sanity saver. Tho I am still kicking myself for installing cream colored carpet.

6. I am thankful for my very reliable Toyota Yaris which Cha and I will be taking on yet another road trip at the end of November. We'll be driving nearly 1,000 miles to my mother's memorial service in Wisconsin.

7. I am thankful for the wonderful friends in my life who know exactly what to say and when to say it.

8. I am thankful for Cha's teacher who has been doing a great job teaching her to read. Cha has been dreaming about reading for a year and she's finally getting it. I am so very proud of her and thankful that Miss Beth has made learning to read fun for my little girl.

9. I am thankful for my husband for his big shoulders, which have provided much sanity during my mental unrest.

10. I am thankful for blogspot for always being there when I need her.

Bonus: I am thankful for the woman at the crematorium who 'checked the back' and just happened to find the perfect stray mini-urn. She showed my father and I many urns and saw that I was hoping to find something similar to my brother Keith's. She walked in the back and found exactly what I was looking for. Below is my Mother on the left and Brother Keith on the fight. It means so much to me that they match, tho I have no idea why.

where's shock?

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Those are the five stages of grief. My question is, where the heck is shock? As far as I'm concerned shock and calling your shrink should be in the top two.

My family has experienced an unfair share of pain, loss and suffering in the last few years. I learned long ago to stop saying 'At least it can't get any worse' because it always can. It can always get worse, which I guess means that there's always something to be thankful for.

Losing my brother to suicide was the most painful event in my life. It shook me to the core and made me look at everything in my world differently. My family, meaning my parents and my siblings, were scattered all over the country and some didn't have the best relationship with each other. But when my brother died we all came together and although briefly we were there for another. It was a deeply personal experience that only the five remaining family members could understand and we came together.

But then we all came apart and were left to deal with the suicide in our own way, since the loss meant different things to all of us. I lost my big brother, whom I hadn't spoken to in many months and whose last contact was far from kind. I was upset with my brother when he died and although I do not feel tremendous guilt over our last words, I do have issues that I have been dealing with.

My parents lost their first child, something I pray I will never have to experience because I cannot even begin to understand the depth of that pain.

Months after my brother's death, nine to be exact, my mother was diagnosed with myelodysplastic syndrome. She hadn't been feeling well and the diagnoses came after several days in the hospital and many rounds of testing. I did a bit of research after the diagnosis and found there isn't a whole lot of information on the internet. When I stumbled upon Rex's Story I was shocked at the statement: Is MDS fatal? Normally, yes, though the length of time it takes to happen is very variable.

I think that's when the shock began. The further I read the more disturbed things became. My mother was sick and if the statistics were to be believed....well, I was having a hard time going there.

My mother did not deserve this, tho I guess no one really does. She was still recovering from the devastating loss of her son who, more than any of her other children, she has always had a very close connection. She battled heart problems and cancer and diabetes and pneumonia and a string of other health issues. This woman needed a break! She needed a year of good health and happy times with her family and friends. More than anyone, she was due.

The MDS was a punch in the gut but my mother handled it as she did with everything else in her life - humor, sarcasm, grace and more than a little smidgen of bitchiness. She started chemo which kicked her ass and underwent weekly blood transfusions which gave her much needed pep. But she was in a lot of pain. Three weeks ago she came down with shingles. If you have to know only one thing about shingles, it's that it causes a whole lot of pain. Just what she did not need. Too much pain.

On September 22nd my mother had an appointment for her weekly blood transfusion. Something that was sure to make her feel better and lessen a tiny bit of her pain. But it never happened. 'She didn't make it' are the words that will forever and ever amen ring in my mind.

What?? How is this possible? I just spoke to her days ago. I just saw her in July. She was just out to visit last year. She was just diagnosed six weeks ago. She's my mother and I need her. Doesn't anyone up there know how much I need her? Don't they know she is due? She needs peace and a healthy body and for the pain to be gone.



I love you mom and I miss you every minute of every day. Give Keith a hug for me and enjoy that healthy body. Smile big and enjoy the sunshine.

My mother with nearly all of her grandchildren
July 8, 2010

Love you Grandma!

Cha had a great visit with Grandma and Grandpa this weekend. She loved giggling with Grandpa and was so excited about her brand new turtle sandbox. Thanks for coming up to play and we can't wait to see you again soon.