It's been six months since my mom died.
I found this on my computer today, it's what I read at her memorial service...it doesn't feel like six months ago already.
There's a saying that,
"life is more accurately measured by the lives you touch than the things you acquire"
I'm certain that anyone who knew her would agree, these words could have been written about our Mom's life.
In fact, as all eight of us kids have been talking over the past few days, one thing we all remember her saying repeatedly over the years is, "I don't need the lottery, I'm rich in kids...and I'm rich in Love."
Our mom was the most sincere and loving person that I've ever known.
Growing up I never once heard her talk about clothes or things.
I have no idea what her dream car would be or what designer she liked.
Because those things were seemingly unimportant to her.
Material things were irrelevant.
We were her life.
And she gave us everything she had.
She always, always put us first.
Before her needs or wants.
Before herself.
Since becoming a mother myself, I marvel even more at our mom, and all that she has accomplished.
I mean, working full time, raising eight relatively good kids, coaching our sports teams, and all that laundry!
I still just don't know how that's possible.
And what really blows my mind is that as soon as she walked in the door, after what I'm certain was a long day at work given her devotion to her job...she would start dinner.
Immediately.
For us.
And we're not talking frozen pizza or mac and cheese, like I may feed my kids. I mean serious meat and potato type meals.
Every night.
Well, except for bowling league night!
Which meant tuna fruit cocktail !!!!
This would account for why, til this day I still can't stomach even the smell of tuna!
Our mom spent her life caring for others.
She would often go out of her way to reach those who were in need...whether that meant people from work, or friends, or any of us kids. Or maybe even an underage grandchild who found themselves in a bit of a bind...!
We all knew she was there for us, whatever the reason or circumstance.
She loved us all.
Truly.
Completely.
Unconditionally.
She reveled in all of her children's accomplishments.
But she also hurt along with us in all of our sorrows.
It was always obvious that she felt sheer joy and delight in spending time with us.
Every time we'd leave her house we'd hear, "why are you leaving so soon?" and "when are you coming back?"
I'm sure that part of wanting all of us kids around, was actually more about wanting her grandchildren around!
Her grandchildren were bringing new joy to her life.
A joy that illuminated her face every time one of them showed up at the cottage.
With 23 grandchildren, let's just say she was invited to more than her fair share of grandparent's days at school, spring concerts, parts in school plays and oh the sporting events!
But every time she was invited.
She was there.
Happily.
With a proud smile on her face.
She loved you all. Please don't ever forget that.
As Albert Einstein said, "Our death is not an end, if we can live on in our children and the younger generation. For they are us. Our bodies are only wilted leaves on the tree of life."
So let us put our own sadness aside, and let today be a joyous celebration of her life...
I loved her with all my heart, and will truly miss her.
Goodnight Mom.
God Bless I Love You
Showing posts with label Mom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mom. Show all posts
Friday, January 14, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Picking up the pieces.
Where to start?
It's been so long.
I guess I never really wrote about our Christmas. Partly for lack of time but mostly for lack of words. I seem to have very little of both lately.
Also, I'm not really sure who's reading and when I'm thinking of getting pretty personal, it's a little frightening to put it all out there. Don't worry, no nude photos or anything. I wouldn't do that to you!
I've just found that I'm better at working through thoughts and emotions by writing them. I often write things, I haven't even been able to talk to Jud about. Not by any fault of his. He's a talker. I'm the one that's not.
So this blog is my therapy I guess. I get things out, put them out there, and then I can talk about them. And I've got some things to get out.
Before I get started, if you're reading this because it was an adoption blog, I'm pretty sure we're done. And if you're someone I went to grade school with whom I haven't talked to in 25 years, who is only reading because it showed up on your Facebook page, once I can figure out how to un-network the blog I think I will. Don't get me wrong, you are all still welcome to read, in fact I hope most of you do. I guess I've just been feeling weird about having it on Facebook. To in your face for me...
So, on we go.
Christmas was very difficult. My sisters really wanted to have everyone at my Dad's house...if it weren't for the fact that the kids REALLY wanted to see their cousins, I think we would have stayed home.
I wasn't ready to be there. I didn't want to be there.
But, since we didn't go for Thanksgiving, we went.
In order to just make it through the day, I sort of shut down. All my emotions, feelings, everything. It took some real control, like crazy denial kind of control, so I started preparing for the shutdown about a week before Christmas. Yes, I realize it may seem childish but it's the only way I could be there. On that day. Without her.
I sort of blocked everything out. Made myself numb.
Christmas morning, watching the kids excitement as they came tearing down the stairs, I laughed. But inside, I wasn't really laughing.
As they ripped through the wrapping paper only to reveal their most favorite, top of the list, bestest gifts ever, they'd look up with a huge smile and yell "yes!" Excitedly I'd say, something like oh my gosh, that's just what you wanted with a big smile back at them. But behind the smile, nothing.
More of the same when we got to my dad's house. Didn't talk much. Smiled. Laughed. When my sisters asked if I wanted to go the mausoleum with them, I simply said, no.
Denial. Denial. Denial.
I hate how I let denial, grief, sadness whatever, take away that day to really BE with my kids. In hindsight, I regret burring my emotions hmm, I guess in general as how I handle things, not just recently over Christmas. It's taken a toll on me. My relationships. You can only push so much down, for so long before there's an eruption of some sort.
New Years was better because I didn't go anywhere or do anything.
Jud was gone to see the Rosebowl in CA so I was home with the kids.
I'll tell you, without these kids of mine, I don't know how I would have made it through this past year much less the holidays. On New Year's Eve Caroline went to a friends but called me on her new ipod touch to video chat so I wasn't all alone. That girl, I do love her so.
Being alone, or as alone as you can be with 5 kids, for a few days was actually kind of nice. It gave me lots of time to think about everything I've been avoiding thinking about. I spent hours looking at old photos. I cried for a good long time. I took the time to think and reflect on the past year. I thought about what I've learned about myself, as a friend, a wife, a mother, a sister and a daughter.
This Friday it will have been six months since she died.
It still hurts everyday.
I still feel broken.
But I'm starting to pick up the pieces.
Getting ready to put things back together.
Although, I don't think I'll ever be the same person I was before.
I've come to realize that losing your mother changes who you are.
I guess I'm still working on discovering just what has changed, maybe what still needs to change, and what needs to be mended.
I know that I need to let myself feel the hurt in order to start moving forward...but that's a very difficult thing to do.
But I'm getting there.
It's been so long.
I guess I never really wrote about our Christmas. Partly for lack of time but mostly for lack of words. I seem to have very little of both lately.
Also, I'm not really sure who's reading and when I'm thinking of getting pretty personal, it's a little frightening to put it all out there. Don't worry, no nude photos or anything. I wouldn't do that to you!
I've just found that I'm better at working through thoughts and emotions by writing them. I often write things, I haven't even been able to talk to Jud about. Not by any fault of his. He's a talker. I'm the one that's not.
So this blog is my therapy I guess. I get things out, put them out there, and then I can talk about them. And I've got some things to get out.
Before I get started, if you're reading this because it was an adoption blog, I'm pretty sure we're done. And if you're someone I went to grade school with whom I haven't talked to in 25 years, who is only reading because it showed up on your Facebook page, once I can figure out how to un-network the blog I think I will. Don't get me wrong, you are all still welcome to read, in fact I hope most of you do. I guess I've just been feeling weird about having it on Facebook. To in your face for me...
So, on we go.
Christmas was very difficult. My sisters really wanted to have everyone at my Dad's house...if it weren't for the fact that the kids REALLY wanted to see their cousins, I think we would have stayed home.
I wasn't ready to be there. I didn't want to be there.
But, since we didn't go for Thanksgiving, we went.
In order to just make it through the day, I sort of shut down. All my emotions, feelings, everything. It took some real control, like crazy denial kind of control, so I started preparing for the shutdown about a week before Christmas. Yes, I realize it may seem childish but it's the only way I could be there. On that day. Without her.
I sort of blocked everything out. Made myself numb.
Christmas morning, watching the kids excitement as they came tearing down the stairs, I laughed. But inside, I wasn't really laughing.
As they ripped through the wrapping paper only to reveal their most favorite, top of the list, bestest gifts ever, they'd look up with a huge smile and yell "yes!" Excitedly I'd say, something like oh my gosh, that's just what you wanted with a big smile back at them. But behind the smile, nothing.
More of the same when we got to my dad's house. Didn't talk much. Smiled. Laughed. When my sisters asked if I wanted to go the mausoleum with them, I simply said, no.
Denial. Denial. Denial.
I hate how I let denial, grief, sadness whatever, take away that day to really BE with my kids. In hindsight, I regret burring my emotions hmm, I guess in general as how I handle things, not just recently over Christmas. It's taken a toll on me. My relationships. You can only push so much down, for so long before there's an eruption of some sort.
New Years was better because I didn't go anywhere or do anything.
Jud was gone to see the Rosebowl in CA so I was home with the kids.
I'll tell you, without these kids of mine, I don't know how I would have made it through this past year much less the holidays. On New Year's Eve Caroline went to a friends but called me on her new ipod touch to video chat so I wasn't all alone. That girl, I do love her so.
Being alone, or as alone as you can be with 5 kids, for a few days was actually kind of nice. It gave me lots of time to think about everything I've been avoiding thinking about. I spent hours looking at old photos. I cried for a good long time. I took the time to think and reflect on the past year. I thought about what I've learned about myself, as a friend, a wife, a mother, a sister and a daughter.
This Friday it will have been six months since she died.
It still hurts everyday.
I still feel broken.
But I'm starting to pick up the pieces.
Getting ready to put things back together.
Although, I don't think I'll ever be the same person I was before.
I've come to realize that losing your mother changes who you are.
I guess I'm still working on discovering just what has changed, maybe what still needs to change, and what needs to be mended.
I know that I need to let myself feel the hurt in order to start moving forward...but that's a very difficult thing to do.
But I'm getting there.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Grief.
I never imagined that this would be so hard. Not that I ever imagined my mom dying. But when she did, and my heart felt like it was broken into a million pieces, I thought eventually it would get better. I would grieve and then I would heal. I would find a place in my heart to hold all of my memories, and I would feel happy when those memories surfaced. But none of this seems to be happening.
I feel stuck.
I still feel sad. And angry.
I still cry everyday.
I've been trying to just keep pushing through. But I end up walking around in an emotional haze. I feel like most of the time, even when I'm smiling, I'm holding back tears.
I feel guilty when I'm happy. I wonder if that's normal.
This morning on the drive to school it was pouring rain. Suddenly the memory of driving in the rain that night in July to be by my mom's side was all I could think of. Now I can't stop thinking about it. That night. The nights leading up to it. It's paralyzing.
I remember a very wise friend who wrote about this
The Kübler-Ross grief cycle
I don't know, maybe this is all normal. But it doesn't make it suck any less.
I feel stuck.
I still feel sad. And angry.
I still cry everyday.
I've been trying to just keep pushing through. But I end up walking around in an emotional haze. I feel like most of the time, even when I'm smiling, I'm holding back tears.
I feel guilty when I'm happy. I wonder if that's normal.
This morning on the drive to school it was pouring rain. Suddenly the memory of driving in the rain that night in July to be by my mom's side was all I could think of. Now I can't stop thinking about it. That night. The nights leading up to it. It's paralyzing.
I remember a very wise friend who wrote about this
The Kübler-Ross grief cycle
I don't know, maybe this is all normal. But it doesn't make it suck any less.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
My Family
I've been thinking about all of them a lot lately.
About our childhoods. Our differences. Our similarities.
What we've all been through this past year, and how differently we've all coped.
This week my sister Jean told me she read my blog.
I was surprised because she doesn't normally read it.
She said she cried and that we're feeling many of the same things...
We're not much for talking, my family and I, well, not about feelings and stuff.
I've pulled away somewhat from them. Which I know isn't right, but it's hard. Anything family related brings up feelings of loss and sadness and memories of my mom.
When were all together, there's still someone missing.
There's a huge void.
it's tough.
A few weeks ago I went home for a luncheon where my mom was being honored. It was a big deal. My sisters, and sisters in law were there. It was a fundraiser for something my mom would have been so incredibly proud to be a part of. Because that's what she was all about. Helping others. Touching lives.
Afterwards I went to my dad's house. - Even writing that it feels weird. I always used to say my mom's house, and my dad's cottage...
-anyway
I stopped because it had been a while since I saw my dad. I check on him through my sisters, who are there.
Everyday.
One of them is always there, checking on him, doing laundry, paying bills, grocery shopping, etc. etc. etc ....My sister Karin actually just drove from Wisconsin to Florida this week with my dad to keep him company and get him settled. If that doesn't scream good daughter, I don't know what does.
When I stopped after the luncheon though, he wasn't home.
The house was so quiet.
Empty.
So I laid in their bed.
in her spot. basically untouched in the past three months.
I thought back to those last days. in that bed.
I tried to smell her smell...but it's fading.
As I laid in their bed, I was struck by the memory of a conversation I overheard my dad having with a woman from their church who came to visit one of those last days. My dad, who is typically very NOT emotional about things, broke down a bit, when he was talking about what it meant to have all of us kids there. What it meant to my mom. I remember him saying, "this is what it's all about...I don't know how people can get through times like these without their children." Then he chuckled and said something like," now I know why she wanted so many!"
We are all lucky. to have each other.
About our childhoods. Our differences. Our similarities.
What we've all been through this past year, and how differently we've all coped.
This week my sister Jean told me she read my blog.
I was surprised because she doesn't normally read it.
She said she cried and that we're feeling many of the same things...
We're not much for talking, my family and I, well, not about feelings and stuff.
I've pulled away somewhat from them. Which I know isn't right, but it's hard. Anything family related brings up feelings of loss and sadness and memories of my mom.
When were all together, there's still someone missing.
There's a huge void.
it's tough.
A few weeks ago I went home for a luncheon where my mom was being honored. It was a big deal. My sisters, and sisters in law were there. It was a fundraiser for something my mom would have been so incredibly proud to be a part of. Because that's what she was all about. Helping others. Touching lives.
Afterwards I went to my dad's house. - Even writing that it feels weird. I always used to say my mom's house, and my dad's cottage...
-anyway
I stopped because it had been a while since I saw my dad. I check on him through my sisters, who are there.
Everyday.
One of them is always there, checking on him, doing laundry, paying bills, grocery shopping, etc. etc. etc ....My sister Karin actually just drove from Wisconsin to Florida this week with my dad to keep him company and get him settled. If that doesn't scream good daughter, I don't know what does.
When I stopped after the luncheon though, he wasn't home.
The house was so quiet.
Empty.
So I laid in their bed.
in her spot. basically untouched in the past three months.
I thought back to those last days. in that bed.
I tried to smell her smell...but it's fading.
As I laid in their bed, I was struck by the memory of a conversation I overheard my dad having with a woman from their church who came to visit one of those last days. My dad, who is typically very NOT emotional about things, broke down a bit, when he was talking about what it meant to have all of us kids there. What it meant to my mom. I remember him saying, "this is what it's all about...I don't know how people can get through times like these without their children." Then he chuckled and said something like," now I know why she wanted so many!"
We are all lucky. to have each other.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Back in the Saddle
You know, I really love this whole blog thing.
Really. I do.
I know you must doubt my love, because of the lack of posts...
But trust me, I do.
Blogging seems to help me get my thoughts together. Something, truthfully, I've always had a hard time with.
It's kind of like talking to myself, but not so crazy like.
Each day, as life happens, I constantly think, I should blog about that...then through out the day, thoughts stir around in my head. After the kids go to bed I can usually sit down and quickly type what thoughts I've gathered throughout the day.
I think there's something therapeutic about it.
I can get things out, actually share them with other people, but not even have to say them out loud.
Recently, blogging has been my voice when I felt like I couldn't speak.
I do love it.
But man, once you stop writing for awhile it really is tough to get back into it.
I don't know where to start.
Usually, once I get an idea for a post I focus on it. I think about it. I may need to set these ideas aside while I'm helping the kids with homework or giving baths, but when things quiet down I can pick up right where I left off.
But not now.
I can't focus on anything for very long. Every thought, every topic, somehow comes back to my mom.
I feel stuck because I don't want to focus on my sadness or this awful pain in my heart. That's not what I intended this blog to be. That deep and dark. But on the other hand, if I don't write about it, I feel like I'm not really being honest about anything.
There are so many great moments with the kids throughout the day, and many exciting things happening around here. I've started a few posts so one of these days I'll catch you up!
Oh and, my sister Kristin just turned 40! We had the most fabulous surprise party for her a few weeks ago. It was so awesome to have my whole family together to celebrate. Definitely reminds me how lucky I am to have such a big crazy loving family. They're pretty incredible! And fun too!
.
Really. I do.
I know you must doubt my love, because of the lack of posts...
But trust me, I do.
Blogging seems to help me get my thoughts together. Something, truthfully, I've always had a hard time with.
It's kind of like talking to myself, but not so crazy like.
Each day, as life happens, I constantly think, I should blog about that...then through out the day, thoughts stir around in my head. After the kids go to bed I can usually sit down and quickly type what thoughts I've gathered throughout the day.
I think there's something therapeutic about it.
I can get things out, actually share them with other people, but not even have to say them out loud.
Recently, blogging has been my voice when I felt like I couldn't speak.
I do love it.
But man, once you stop writing for awhile it really is tough to get back into it.
I don't know where to start.
Usually, once I get an idea for a post I focus on it. I think about it. I may need to set these ideas aside while I'm helping the kids with homework or giving baths, but when things quiet down I can pick up right where I left off.
But not now.
I can't focus on anything for very long. Every thought, every topic, somehow comes back to my mom.
I feel stuck because I don't want to focus on my sadness or this awful pain in my heart. That's not what I intended this blog to be. That deep and dark. But on the other hand, if I don't write about it, I feel like I'm not really being honest about anything.
There are so many great moments with the kids throughout the day, and many exciting things happening around here. I've started a few posts so one of these days I'll catch you up!
Oh and, my sister Kristin just turned 40! We had the most fabulous surprise party for her a few weeks ago. It was so awesome to have my whole family together to celebrate. Definitely reminds me how lucky I am to have such a big crazy loving family. They're pretty incredible! And fun too!
.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
One day at a time.
I'm doing ok.
I'm trying to do ok.
I'm trying to enjoy the summer that is left with the kids.
This has all taken a toll on them too. I know that.
Early on in the summer they agreed to forgo all of the summer activities they had just begun to enjoy...swimming, golf, tennis, play dates at the park, so that I could spend as much time as possible with my mom.
I have incredibly loving children.
They saw me hurting, and struggling over how to juggle everything... I think it was Caroline that said "let's just move to the cottage for the summer!"
I am so grateful.
The last few weeks, I've tried to get our daily summer routine to include fun stuff for us to do together. Taking walks to the park, going to the zoo, or the pool...
But it's not easy.
I'm not the mom I usually am. But I'm trying.
I have a picture of my mom next to the seat in my car. It was the picture we gave to the funeral home to see what her typical hair and makeup looked like.
It's a beautiful picture of her. That somehow ended up in my car.
I can't bare to remove it.
Every time I'm driving, I look over and see her beautiful smile.
It makes me smile.
Then flashes of memories...and a huge lump in my throat. Pain in my heart. My eyes well up with tears. If I'm alone in the car I let them fall.
I miss her.
Maybe it would be easier if I just took the photo out...
but I don't want it to be easy.
I don't want to forget.
On the other hand I don't want to let grief take over my life either.
When the kids are around me, I can't help but laugh and smile. They are so full of life and love. They fill me up. One smile, one hug, one "I love you" at a time.
This is hard stuff. Losing a parent is hopefully the hardest thing I'll have to experience in my life.
I'm lucky to have an incredibly supportive husband. Who's allowing me the time and space to figure out this whole grief process at a pace I can handle. And who's willing to hold me up, when I feel like I can't go on. Who is so kindly tolerating all of the 15,000 projects I've started around the house in order to keep busy, even if it means a seemingly endless 'To Do List' for him!
My loving friends, who even though there's nothing they can say to ease the pain, they're still here. With a hug, a card, a phone call.
It all helps.
I'm getting there. One day at a time.
I'm trying to do ok.
I'm trying to enjoy the summer that is left with the kids.
This has all taken a toll on them too. I know that.
Early on in the summer they agreed to forgo all of the summer activities they had just begun to enjoy...swimming, golf, tennis, play dates at the park, so that I could spend as much time as possible with my mom.
I have incredibly loving children.
They saw me hurting, and struggling over how to juggle everything... I think it was Caroline that said "let's just move to the cottage for the summer!"
I am so grateful.
The last few weeks, I've tried to get our daily summer routine to include fun stuff for us to do together. Taking walks to the park, going to the zoo, or the pool...
But it's not easy.
I'm not the mom I usually am. But I'm trying.
I have a picture of my mom next to the seat in my car. It was the picture we gave to the funeral home to see what her typical hair and makeup looked like.
It's a beautiful picture of her. That somehow ended up in my car.
I can't bare to remove it.
Every time I'm driving, I look over and see her beautiful smile.
It makes me smile.
Then flashes of memories...and a huge lump in my throat. Pain in my heart. My eyes well up with tears. If I'm alone in the car I let them fall.
I miss her.
Maybe it would be easier if I just took the photo out...
but I don't want it to be easy.
I don't want to forget.
On the other hand I don't want to let grief take over my life either.
When the kids are around me, I can't help but laugh and smile. They are so full of life and love. They fill me up. One smile, one hug, one "I love you" at a time.
This is hard stuff. Losing a parent is hopefully the hardest thing I'll have to experience in my life.
I'm lucky to have an incredibly supportive husband. Who's allowing me the time and space to figure out this whole grief process at a pace I can handle. And who's willing to hold me up, when I feel like I can't go on. Who is so kindly tolerating all of the 15,000 projects I've started around the house in order to keep busy, even if it means a seemingly endless 'To Do List' for him!
My loving friends, who even though there's nothing they can say to ease the pain, they're still here. With a hug, a card, a phone call.
It all helps.
I'm getting there. One day at a time.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Saturday, July 31, 2010
pause.
I feel like time should stand still. Just for a little while. Give my head and my heart time to process everything that has happened in the past two months.
It all happened so quickly.
I think I'm stuck somewhere between shock and disbelief, and overwhelming pain and sorrow.
I continue to replay the last few weeks over and over in my mind each night. There are many moments that stand out. That give me a sense of peace--well I guess as close to peace as I can be for right now... and then there are also those moments that pierce my heart and steal the air from my lungs.
I think about how she was not alone, not for one second, since she first went into the hospital. All of her children surrounded her with love, just as she has always surrounded us. From time to time she would actually look around the room and count, to see if we were all there... She loved having all of us there. The night she died was no exception. She waited. She waited until all eight of us were there, in her bedroom, right by her side. It was perfect and beautiful. Exactly the way she wanted.
I think about the many conversations we had in the last weeks and days, just the two of us. Her words will stay with me forever. Hearing her say that my children, are happy and wonderful children, because of what a good mom I am... that was a true treasure.
I can honestly say that in a matter of weeks, we had more meaningful, in depth, real, conversations, than we had had in a very long time.
It gave me such joy, relief, peace, whatever, to be able to have that connection with her again.
I had my mom back.
I knew it was just for a short time, but she was there. More clear and herself, than she had been in a very long time.
I guess I should back track.
When my mom was admitted into the hospital, they determined that not only was her oxygen level dangerously low but her carbon dioxide level was dangerously high...they suspected that this severe imbalance had taken quite some time to get to the point that it was, and that this dangerous combination had left her brain, basically starving for oxygen...for quite awhile.
It kind of made sense...
You see,
The past few years, my mom was different.
there were
changes
slowing progressing.
She was getting very forgetful. And frustrated.
My siblings and I had all noticed these changes. Something was different. She was different. Not herself.
We talked to her about it. Talked to our dad about it. Even talked to her physician about it.
It didn't go well. She was very upset. defensive. felt like we were accusing her of being crazy or worse, having Alzheimer's. The doctor basically dismissed everything we said. (reason 5,647 why I'm not a big fan of small town doctors.) He tried to convince us that this was just normal forgetfulness that comes with the natural progression of age. Our carefully detailed outline of examples and concerns, out the window.
I was pissed.
I knew in my heart that something was going on. Something was stealing my mom away from me. I hated it.
Still
Years went by.
Lots of little things happened, easily dismissed I guess. Then a few bigger things...they would start up the conversations again. But eventually, due to her insistence, the conversations would stop...or at least they would stop in front of her.
It began to get increasingly more difficult for me to be around her for extended periods of time. And she knew that. Obviously. I wasn't very good at hiding my frustrations. If she forgot one of the kids birthdays, or called to tell me some story that she had already called earlier that day to tell me, I would always call her out on it. I didn't let anything slide. If she came back from the grocery store after 2 hours with one bag, I'd ask her if she got lost. I didn't back down. If I couldn't come up with a snide remark after she was confused about one thing or another, I would just shake my head and roll my eyes.
This is what I'm having a hard time with right now.
The regret of my actions.
I regret being such a pain in her ass for the past few years. I regret waisting time making her feel belittled or unappreciated.
I regret pushing her so hard.
Selfishly, I wanted the prepared for anything mom I grew up with, not the confused and disheveled woman I was beginning to see.
But it was still her.
I just didn't look close enough.
I always focused on what was missing, rather than what was still there.
I will regret that for the rest of my life...
I keep wondering.
what if?
what if she knew?
What if she knew something was going on?
What if the ending was inevitable, but she chose the way to go?
She was smart like that.
I wouldn't put it past her.
It all happened so quickly.
I think I'm stuck somewhere between shock and disbelief, and overwhelming pain and sorrow.
I continue to replay the last few weeks over and over in my mind each night. There are many moments that stand out. That give me a sense of peace--well I guess as close to peace as I can be for right now... and then there are also those moments that pierce my heart and steal the air from my lungs.
I think about how she was not alone, not for one second, since she first went into the hospital. All of her children surrounded her with love, just as she has always surrounded us. From time to time she would actually look around the room and count, to see if we were all there... She loved having all of us there. The night she died was no exception. She waited. She waited until all eight of us were there, in her bedroom, right by her side. It was perfect and beautiful. Exactly the way she wanted.
I think about the many conversations we had in the last weeks and days, just the two of us. Her words will stay with me forever. Hearing her say that my children, are happy and wonderful children, because of what a good mom I am... that was a true treasure.
I can honestly say that in a matter of weeks, we had more meaningful, in depth, real, conversations, than we had had in a very long time.
It gave me such joy, relief, peace, whatever, to be able to have that connection with her again.
I had my mom back.
I knew it was just for a short time, but she was there. More clear and herself, than she had been in a very long time.
I guess I should back track.
When my mom was admitted into the hospital, they determined that not only was her oxygen level dangerously low but her carbon dioxide level was dangerously high...they suspected that this severe imbalance had taken quite some time to get to the point that it was, and that this dangerous combination had left her brain, basically starving for oxygen...for quite awhile.
It kind of made sense...
You see,
The past few years, my mom was different.
there were
changes
slowing progressing.
She was getting very forgetful. And frustrated.
My siblings and I had all noticed these changes. Something was different. She was different. Not herself.
We talked to her about it. Talked to our dad about it. Even talked to her physician about it.
It didn't go well. She was very upset. defensive. felt like we were accusing her of being crazy or worse, having Alzheimer's. The doctor basically dismissed everything we said. (reason 5,647 why I'm not a big fan of small town doctors.) He tried to convince us that this was just normal forgetfulness that comes with the natural progression of age. Our carefully detailed outline of examples and concerns, out the window.
I was pissed.
I knew in my heart that something was going on. Something was stealing my mom away from me. I hated it.
Still
Years went by.
Lots of little things happened, easily dismissed I guess. Then a few bigger things...they would start up the conversations again. But eventually, due to her insistence, the conversations would stop...or at least they would stop in front of her.
It began to get increasingly more difficult for me to be around her for extended periods of time. And she knew that. Obviously. I wasn't very good at hiding my frustrations. If she forgot one of the kids birthdays, or called to tell me some story that she had already called earlier that day to tell me, I would always call her out on it. I didn't let anything slide. If she came back from the grocery store after 2 hours with one bag, I'd ask her if she got lost. I didn't back down. If I couldn't come up with a snide remark after she was confused about one thing or another, I would just shake my head and roll my eyes.
This is what I'm having a hard time with right now.
The regret of my actions.
I regret being such a pain in her ass for the past few years. I regret waisting time making her feel belittled or unappreciated.
I regret pushing her so hard.
Selfishly, I wanted the prepared for anything mom I grew up with, not the confused and disheveled woman I was beginning to see.
But it was still her.
I just didn't look close enough.
I always focused on what was missing, rather than what was still there.
I will regret that for the rest of my life...
I keep wondering.
what if?
what if she knew?
What if she knew something was going on?
What if the ending was inevitable, but she chose the way to go?
She was smart like that.
I wouldn't put it past her.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Dancing with Angels
Patrica Jean Vandenhouten
August 30, 1938 - July 14, 2010
Memories surround me
But sadness has found me
I'd do anything for more time
Never before has someone meant more
And I can't get you out of my mind
There is so much that I don't understand
But I know
You're dancing with the angels
Walking in new life
You're dancing with the angels
Heaven fills your eyes
Now that you're dancing with the angels
You had love for your family
Love for all people
Love for the Father, and Son
Your heart will be heard
In your unspoken words
Through generations to come
There is so much that I don't understand
But I know
You're dancing with the angels
Walking in new life
You're dancing with the angels
Heaven fills your eyes
Now that you're dancing with the angels
We're only here for such a short time
So I'm gonna stand up
Shout out
And sing Hallelujah
One day I'll see you again
August 30, 1938 - July 14, 2010
Memories surround me
But sadness has found me
I'd do anything for more time
Never before has someone meant more
And I can't get you out of my mind
There is so much that I don't understand
But I know
You're dancing with the angels
Walking in new life
You're dancing with the angels
Heaven fills your eyes
Now that you're dancing with the angels
You had love for your family
Love for all people
Love for the Father, and Son
Your heart will be heard
In your unspoken words
Through generations to come
There is so much that I don't understand
But I know
You're dancing with the angels
Walking in new life
You're dancing with the angels
Heaven fills your eyes
Now that you're dancing with the angels
We're only here for such a short time
So I'm gonna stand up
Shout out
And sing Hallelujah
One day I'll see you again
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Holding on tight. Preparing to let go.
The past few weeks have been a blur. I feel like I'm in a fog most of the time. When I'm at home, I'm wondering how things are going at my mom's. When I'm here I'm wondering how the kids are doing at home.
I'm learning a lot about myself. How I grieve. And I have to say it's not pretty. Nor is it good for my marriage. I know it's been hard on Jud, I just have nothing left to give. I feel empty. He wants to help, desperately. But he can't. He wants to listen, but I can't talk. He wants to hold me, but I can't stop moving. Because when I stop, it hurts. Terribly. When I stop, I start to think about what it's going to feel like when I wake up one morning, very soon, and she won't be here. I won't be able to see her, call her. She'll be gone. Forever. I will have lost my mother.
So I keep moving.
This week I've spent every minute I could with her, with my brothers and sisters and my dad. I've learned just how much we need each other. I've learned that I'm not the only one who has this insane way of coping with grief. My sisters and I have all been busy pacing around the house, washing windows, mowing the lawn anything to keep from stopping for too long. One of my brothers and I had a great late night talk/cry. It felt good. I think I'm getting there.
I can see how at peace my mom is. It's very comforting. She made sure to tell us all how proud she is of us and how much she loves us and that she'll be watching over all of us. When I asked her if she was afraid, she just smiled and said, "oh, not really."
Right now I'm just holding on tight but at the same time preparing to let go... I only wish I had an ounce of her strength and courage.
I'm learning a lot about myself. How I grieve. And I have to say it's not pretty. Nor is it good for my marriage. I know it's been hard on Jud, I just have nothing left to give. I feel empty. He wants to help, desperately. But he can't. He wants to listen, but I can't talk. He wants to hold me, but I can't stop moving. Because when I stop, it hurts. Terribly. When I stop, I start to think about what it's going to feel like when I wake up one morning, very soon, and she won't be here. I won't be able to see her, call her. She'll be gone. Forever. I will have lost my mother.
So I keep moving.
This week I've spent every minute I could with her, with my brothers and sisters and my dad. I've learned just how much we need each other. I've learned that I'm not the only one who has this insane way of coping with grief. My sisters and I have all been busy pacing around the house, washing windows, mowing the lawn anything to keep from stopping for too long. One of my brothers and I had a great late night talk/cry. It felt good. I think I'm getting there.
I can see how at peace my mom is. It's very comforting. She made sure to tell us all how proud she is of us and how much she loves us and that she'll be watching over all of us. When I asked her if she was afraid, she just smiled and said, "oh, not really."
Right now I'm just holding on tight but at the same time preparing to let go... I only wish I had an ounce of her strength and courage.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Grief. It's what's for dinner
It has the power unlike any other emotion to completely shut you down. Hard and Fast.
It leaves you questioning the point in anything. Making it difficult to find the motivation to even get out of bed each morning.
It leaves you questioning the point in anything. Making it difficult to find the motivation to even get out of bed each morning.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Time
Well it's been a rough few weeks. To say the least.
As some of you may know, my mom has not been feeling well for some time.
( This is what I wrote about my mom last year...)
They thought it was pnemonia.
It's not.
It's Cancer.
Stage four lung cancer.
I can honestly without a doubt say that this has been
THE WORST WEEK OF MY ENTIRE LIFE.
I feel completely helpless.
There's nothing I can say. Nothing I can do.
I just want to be with her. When I'm sitting in the room with her I just want to climb into that hospital bed with her, just like when I was little and I'd sneak into her room in the middle of the night...But then I remember I'm not a littl girl anymore.
Suddenly, I don't know where the years have gone.
I'm filled with regrets.
I thought we'd have more time.
I don't know how to do this.
As some of you may know, my mom has not been feeling well for some time.
( This is what I wrote about my mom last year...)
They thought it was pnemonia.
It's not.
It's Cancer.
Stage four lung cancer.
I can honestly without a doubt say that this has been
THE WORST WEEK OF MY ENTIRE LIFE.
I feel completely helpless.
There's nothing I can say. Nothing I can do.
I just want to be with her. When I'm sitting in the room with her I just want to climb into that hospital bed with her, just like when I was little and I'd sneak into her room in the middle of the night...But then I remember I'm not a littl girl anymore.
Suddenly, I don't know where the years have gone.
I'm filled with regrets.
I thought we'd have more time.
I don't know how to do this.
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