Time goes by...

Connor is not too far from completing his very first school year, Cadence does not need Pull-Ups anymore, Bonnie Marie has discovered boys, James got a great new job, Dana has a new boyfriend, Chris has 2, Kelly got a promotion, Dan is back to work. These are exciting things in life, however, they do bring the sadness, the reminder that my mom is not with me. Over these months since my mom let God take her home I have struggled with what I want my own life to be. I am still afraid to be alone in the dark and have a tendency to start most sentences with “My mom always…” I still feel alone in a room full of people and still see images that I would like to put away forever.

I truly feel like this first year is the challenge that decides whether or not you make it. I have been down every emotional gauntlet and managed to hold my head up and keep moving forward. I admit, I have stalled several times and given into those moments of self pity and thoroughly enjoyed them, it is always nice to just sit and cry about how bad you have it in life. Of course, once the tears stop I have to get my butt back into reality where I have the sweetest husband, two perfect children and wonderful friends all of whom miss me dearly when I stop off to visit the land of “Poor Me.”

Things are difficult without my mom. I always feel like a part of me is missing and I know it is obvious to others even when I try to hide it. A few weeks ago, Connor came home from school with a picture of a heart and a note from his teacher telling me how Connor had expressed his drawing to her; Connor had drawn “Mommy’s heart” all colored nicely in the lines except for one little section in the middle that he had left blank. When the teacher asked him why he hadn’t colored the middle of Mommy’s heart, Connor explained to her that that piece was missing because it was the one Grandmom had taken with her when she went to Heaven.

My children talk about my mom often and I do the best I can to explain the loss to them, but I know I come up short. Cadence informed me yesterday that she felt that Meemom had been gone long enough and that she needed to come back now. Explaining to your 4-yearl old that death is permanent is not fun but seems to be a daily conversation now. We discuss Meemom being in Heaven quite often and each day I experience the world from the wonderful perspective of my children.

While driving the kids to school on a rainy day, Connor asked me if it was raining in Heaven too, and when I told him that I supposed it was, he informed me that he believed Meemom’s umbrella was pink with purple flowers. His comment made me ache with loss but it also gave me the beautiful image of my mom walking in the rain under a pink umbrella with beautiful, purple flowers.

Mother’s Day is approaching much more quickly than I would like. I realize that I will miss my mom each day of my life but for some reason this holiday takes the breath from me. I don’t want to see others celebrating their moms when mine is gone from me. I know it is such a mean and selfish attitude to have and I wish I could help it; the thought that I will never buy another Mother’s Day card or wait in some insane line to have Sunday brunch is disheartening to say the least. It makes me realize that the permanency of death is not just difficult for 4-year olds to comprehend! I am at a strange spot in this whole grieving process, a place where I am afraid to move forward and scared to be left behind. I know my mom will never be lost to me but I do struggle with the fact that she is gone from me. I am afraid to move forward to that day in June where it becomes the 1 year anniversary of her death. I feel as though it somehow seals the loss, like there is no going back. It is a strange rationale, but I can’t escape it and I can’t stop it from sounding childish. I do not like being without my mom, simple and honest.

Sometimes, when I really hurt for her, I find myself posting something on her wall on Facebook. I know it is such a silly thing but my mom enjoyed the comedic relief of FB status updates and the opinions expressed so openly. So, I guess I feel like I am actually telling her what is going on in my life and that she in turn, is actually listening. I know that I have let this blog go for quite some time, I felt that this writing was to discuss my mom’s battle with PML and when she lost the fight it became about my grief and loss. Just like anything in life, you come to a point where you just have to find closure and move to the next chapter. I want to leave behind the images of my mom dying, the illness that took her and the hell that it put her and my family through. I want to shed the guilt that I carry when I think of things I should have done differently. I don’t want to remember the moment when my mom looked in my eyes and told me she was dying and asked me to make her arrangements. When I told her we weren’t there yet she steadied her speech and said “Jodey, you know more than anyone that we are there and I am asking you to do this because I know you can and will.” She was right, of course. I looked into arrangements and made decisions that I felt shouldn’t be made until she was gone; I did these things while she was still with me because she asked me. My mom did not give up easily, she fought for every last breath she took and defied each timeline set by her doctors. I will always wonder if she would still be here today if I had had more faith in her ability to beat this disease; the shame and guilt over my own acceptance is something I will always carry, alone.

Once I have passed the anniversary of my mom’s death I will close out this blog with my favorite memories of my mom and those will be the images I carry into my future. Mom is where every child’s story begins and mine is not different.

Remember what you forget...

I remember one night just after Connor was born James worked late and I hung out with my mom at her house much longer than usual. As my mom walked me out to the car with the baby she looked into the sky and commented that the lack of the moon made the night truly dark. She started back to the house saying over her shoulder that she wanted to get her keys because she just knew I hadn't turned on my outside light and she would bet money on the street light in front of my house being out again. She drove behind me the few miles to my house and we both laughed at the broken street lamp when we pulled into the drive. My mom carried Connor to the house while I gathered our gear and headed after her. I expected her to turn to leave once we were settled but she sat down and commented on how much she liked the new leather recliners I had purchased. We talked until James came home well after midnight and to this day I wonder how my mom knew that I was overwhelmed with the thought of being alone in the darkness with my new baby. I asked her what it was that I said or did that let her know about that slight panic I was feeling and she said there was nothing, just a feeling she felt. Now, with her gone, I come back to that simple statement. Just a feeling she felt, like a connection between us with no words to get in the way and sometimes late at night I lay awake groping for that feeling, that connection because I miss her so. She is still my very best friend...

Dan misses her more than I thought possible, watching him is almost physically painful. He believes that a mistake was made, that he was "expendable" where my mother was not. I remind him that he too has 4 daughters and 3 grandchildren just as my mom, but I know he feels that she should be here. Each of us girls needs Dan, he is our family and we cannot move forward without him. He has been ill these last few weeks and when he could no longer walk easily, he allowed Chris to take him to the emergency room where he was admitted with a blood infection. The doctors started running tests and came back to let us know that they did not know what type of infection was running through his blood. It was causing inflammation and every joint in his body ached, angry, red nodes appeared on his arms, neck and feet, the inside of his mouth was covered with ulcers. The doctors started consulting specialists outside of the hospital and my mom's medical records were pulled to see if it could have been a form of the hospital-acquired infection she had suffered. Needless to say the fear was sickening, I worried that Dan would follow my mom home when I needed him here. Catscans, MRIs, bloodwork and cultures were done and gave precious little light on the situation and we waited just as we had done with my mom. It made me angry to be in that place again, to feel useless and helpless. When my mom passed I promised myself that I would never watch someone I loved go through the endless waiting that comes with an unidentified cause of illness. I told myself that I would demand answers and get the right doctors but there I was again without a clue as to the next step. I know that finding the cause of my mom's symptoms sooner would not have changed the outcome of her life but it would have eliminated the fear I know she felt when a doctor, a figure you put all your faith into, just does not know how to help you. After 3 days in the hospital and weeks of painful suffering doctors found an antibiotic that worked to kill the infection in Dan's blood and we waited for him to be discharged later in the week. Of course, being who he is, Dan was home the very same day that the hospital pharmacy gave him samples of the oral antibiotic. He said he had signed himself out of the hospital which I know is certainly an option you have, but in my experience they tend to remove your IV before you leave! Basically, Dan told the nurses that he was going downstairs in the wheelchair they supplied so that he could smoke a cigarette and then never returned. I called to scream at him to go back but I felt horrible when he told me he had been in hospitals enough this year and didn't want to stay alone in a room that was 2 doors down from the one where my mom had battled the early stages of PML months before. We all have our demons.

Later, when Dana and I talked about things she shared a conversation she had with Dan's brother, David. She told him that she was trying to handle all of this upset alone because she had no one since my mom had passed. I realized when she said that to me that I should reassure her that I was always here for her but she knows that and I understand what she meant because I feel the same. Each of us girls knows that our sisters are there for us for anything we need, I talk to my aunt almost everyday as we both struggle with the loss, my cousin and I sighed when we came to the conclusion together that each of us had become our mothers and then smiled when we realized you couldn't ask for better, we are all there for each other but in a strange way we are all very much alone in our grief.

My friend Jill recently resigned from her position within our company and has moved on to a new opportunity in her career. Although I am happy for her, I will miss our daily chats and laughter and the bouts of bitching and complaining that coworkers always seem to manage. My husband believes this works to my advantage as he says that although I am a very animated storyteller I am an exceptional writer. Both Jill and Annemarie, another coworker who left the company circle, have been bombarded with the email version of my life since they left. And, as always, putting the pain and frustration down on paper helps almost as much as their emailed responses. I am glad that I had the opportunity to get to know each of them better this passed year. It is funny to think that I have known both of them for numerous years but for some reason events this year seemed to line up and form a stronger bond than was there before. I am eternally grateful for the advice they offered and the strength and support they gave. Their friendship is another item in my list that I use to remind myself that I have things to be thankful for; I think you tend to forget the simple things when you are grieving. I received an email from Annemarie today in which she was simply checking in to see how I was doing. It was such a nice and simple thing that it made my eyes well up. In it she discussed various logistics of attendance to Jill's wedding including travel and lack of spousal assistance but when she asked my opinion on a wardrobe question that was when the tears started to fall, for only a true friend would ask me what I thought about style or fashion. Seriously, I have a good amount of self-esteem and I am pretty comfortable in my own skin, but I have to admit that every day of my life includes at least one fashion faux pas; I wear pajamas bottoms to work and pretend their not, I never paint my toenails when wearing sandals, white after Labor Day is a slogan for me, I don't own make-up and I really believed that fanny packs were a good idea! So, I must say I do love Annemarie!

A card came in the mail the other day from Jill, the combination of the card's own verse and Jill's handwritten note on the inside cover were heartwarming. Reading the card made me realize something I had always felt throughout my life but never actually acknowledged; people consider me a good friend to have. All the wonderful words of friendship in that card from Jill are how I feel about her but for some strange reason I never thought she would feel the same for me. I don't think I am a horrible person or anything and I do have a pretty good sense of humor and outlook on life but I never considered my own value as a friend. I guess that is another item on my list, having friends is nice but being one is truly wonderful.

A week in the life...

This week has been a long one with a million little things going wrong. They are just the trivial little occurences in life that normally you would take in stride if you were hit with just one at a time but when the occur in a short time it is almost enough to send you over the edge. Today is my edge.

The weekend was really wonderful and I should have known by late Sunday night when all was well that it wouldn't hold. I spent Saturday afternoon at a friend's baby shower with Dana and had a wondergul time. Sarah is pregnant with twin girls and is beside herself with the excitement, her family is as welcoming as they are funny and her niece is as cute as they come with her little pony tails and happy smile. The whole event was fun and relaxing with good food and none of those cheesy baby shower games. Sunday I spent the afternoon at Dana's house where we had a barbecue to celebrate the Labor Day holiday. Dana makes the best potato salad ever and stole a really delicious pulled pork recipe from my cousin Donna. I sat on the patio with Dan, Dana and Chris and we talked and laughed, it wasn't the laughter we shared when my mom was alive but it was laughter all the same. That empty space that is so intense whenever you are there at the house where my mom lived was still there but for some reason it didn't seem so empty. We talked about my mom and let our eyes fill as we missed her but we smiled about her and remembered her smiling about us. That is something we haven't done in a long time. That feeling of smiling when I think of my mom is gone now but I was so thrilled to have it that Sunday afternoon even if it was only for a few brief moments.

Monday swooped in to eliminate any bit of relief that the weekend brought and each day got a little worse as the week went on. Connor started kindergarten last week but with the holidays and teacher workshop he was scheduled to go to school one day last week and one day this week and Monday was not his day. If I wanted to send him to Cadence's daycare for the day it costs $75 that I just don't have. James is already working over 60 hours a week trying to get us out of the hole we put ourselves into during my mom's illness and the costs after she passed and I just couldn't bear to add another expense. I made arrangements to bring Connor to work with me after I dropped Cadence at daycare as we have to pay her daycare fee whether she is there or not I figured one child at work would be manageable. Cadence cried when I dropped her off because she wanted to stay with Connor but I managed to calm her somewhat before I left. I put in 9 hours at work that day in between entertaining Connor before I would finally get back to pick her up. Dinner was a sad affair of mac and cheese and the kids were in bed by 7:30pm and I managed to fall asleep sometime after 2:30am and still make my alarm's 5:30am wake-up call.

Tuesday brought another teary good-bye from Cadence but she was easily distracted with the idea that today was her turn for Show and Tell at daycare. Connor was dragged along to my office with a tote filled with Play Doh and its various accessories. He is pretty well behaved at the office but I work with medical writers and editors and for the most part it is pretty quiet work and bored 5 year olds tend to have a bit more volume. My co-workers are extremely supportive and do what they can to help me out. Connie is part of our graphic design team. She lost her husband a few years back after he battled a brain tumor and her outlook and understanding are wonderful. She set Connor up on a website where you can create your own snowflakes and then took time from her schedule to help him cut out each intricate flake. occupying him for 2 hours or so. Connor is also very much in love with my friend and co-worker, Jill who takes up residency in the office next to mine. He spends a lot of his time making her little paper hearts and various other creations and then visits with her when he delivers them. Jill is extremely good at her job and was raised with the ethics that do not allow her to turn away from any chore while stating that it is not her job, making her a very busy person in the office. Despite her workload she always takes the time to accept Connor's gifts and chat with him for a bit and I truly appreciate that. Later in the afternoon I received a call from my sister Chris asking me for the name of the grief counselor I knew at the hospice that cared for my mom. It turns out that my niece had an episode in school and told her teachers that she really wanted her grandmom back. It took them about 90 minutes to stem the flow of tears and Chris thought it best that she talk to someone as she had never let on to the grief she was holding. Each time Chris tries to speak to her about it she gets angry and will not answer her. Bonnie has lived with my mom just about all of her life and has lost her just a few months after her parents divorce. Although my sister and her husband have done all they could to make the transition smooth and friendly Bonnie is no dummy and change is not her favorite thing. Tuesday evening, Jill took Connor and Cadence home with her to make their own pizzas for dinner so that I could attend Back-to-School night at Connor's elementary school. The event was really great and I enjoyed hearing what Connor would be learning in school and being introduced to the people he would spend his days with. I spoke to some of the other mom's and even joined the PTO against my better judgement simply because I found the president of the organization very likeable, Connor's teacher spoke a bit over the scheduled 30 minutes and I was reluctant to miss any of the information she plied on us. As I left the school I hurried to Jill's house to pick up the kids, worrying that it was passed their bedtime and afraid they had drived Jill over that edge where I hang out most days! My luck being what it is, there was an accident about 2 minutes form her home that left me stranded in traffic when I called to let her know I was running late. I could see the entrance to her development from where I sat and decided that if I just got out of my car and explained to the officer handling the road closure that I simply had to turn there he would certainly understand. After telling me to return to my car twice and warning me that he could arrest me he realized I wasn't giving up and allowed be to sneak by the scene on the shoulder, I was afraid to pull out my cell phone and call Jill for fear he would certainly arrest me at that point.

Wednesday was going to be an easy day. I dropped Cadence at daycare on my way to the office and James would take Connor to school that morning for his first day of kindergarten and after he would be bussed to the after-care program. The first phone call came at 12:20pm from the secretary at Connor's elementary school. She wanted to confirm with me that Connor was indeed going to the after-care program as they had never sent a bus to pick him up. She assured me Connor was fine and said she would call and get things straight and when she called back again 15 minutes later, all was well, supposedly. I finished out the work day with the nagging image of my little guy sitting alone in the school office, holding on to a backpack that is bigger than he is and waiting on the bus that didn't come. I picked up Cadence and she was thrilled to go with me to "Connor's new school" and pick him up.

We arrived at Connor's after care school at 5:00pm and I made my was to the cafeteria where the program was set up. It seemed like they had done a really nice job; there were large section rugs placed on the tiled floors where groups of kids built with blocks and cafeteria tables housed kids playing board games and coloring. It was a nice, comfortable atmosphere and I was glad we had chose this for Connor. The only problem with the after care program was that as I scanned the area I realized that Connor just was not there. That's right, after 45 minutes of phone calls on the part of the program's aids and an almost total meltdown on my part it was discovered that Connor had been put on the wrong list and bussed to the wrong facility. He was in good hands but just not the right hands! The relief came flooding over me as I drove to the other school to get him and I even managed to see some of the humor in the scene Cadence and I had created. Between me asking how this could have happened and Cadence standing beside me, hands on her hips using her best demanding tone saying "Did you lose my brother? Did you put him on the wrong bus?" I am sure we were a sight! I picked Connor up at the other facility and he didn't even realize that he had been lost so all was well. I just couldn't stop that one horrible thought that crushed me, "if my mom were alive this wouldn't have happened, Connor would have been with her"

After our lovely mid-week adventure I figured Thursday would have to come and go without incidence, right? Not exactly...

Schools were closed for the holiday on Thursday and Friday so Connor packed up his Play-Doh and came to hang out at the office with Jill and I. After wrapping up a teleconference I checked the messages on my cell phone and discovered several from James. He doesn't usually call in the morning so my heart was beating a little faster as I called into my voicemail. James message explained that there was a rather large puddle oil on my side of the driveway and he was concerned. I went out to check my car in the parking lot and sure enough there was a good size oil spill beneath it. This finding led to a phone call to the dealership where I had just had my oil changed over the weekend. The car had to be towed as there was no oil measuring on the dipstick when it was checked and I had to have Enterprise "pick me up" The dealership did pay for the rental for 2 days as they checked out my vehicle and Cadence was totally convinced that the black Chevy HHR rental we received was considerably less lame than our silver minivan. The tantrum that ensued when our car was returned was not fun!

I worked from home on Friday simply because I was afraid to leave the damn house! I managed to break 2 dishes and burn a microwave dinner but I considered that a pretty good day.

I know these would have happened regardless of whether or not my mom were here but when things don't go well that thought always surfaces, "if my mom were alive this wouldn't have happened." I know it is not true but I know things are definitely easier when your mom is there to lead the way. Weeks like this one make me miss little things about my mom that I didn't consciously notice while she was here. I miss the way she would simply drop whatever she was holding if she saw one of the kids running to hug her, or the way she said "See ya later, Hots!" to my niece each time she left for school. Most of all I miss the feeling of simply walking beside her knowing she was there without having to look over. I miss letting the kids fall asleep in the backseat and then parking and watching traffic go by as we ate drive-thru burgers. In all honesty, I miss everything about her, even the sentences that started "If you want my opinion..." even when she knew I didn't. Some of the anger over her death has left me but occassionally I still feel it. I am not sure yet if the dull ache that sits in place of the anger is any better. I keep wondering if the feeling of living your life half-empty will ever go away, will I smile again without having to think about it first? And what do with the guilt; the guilt over the fact that it hurts my face to smile or the guilt over how my children are affected by a mother who selfishly wallows in misery on occassion. I guess, chances are I will never know. My mom is proof that you are gone before you ever get the chance to figure it all out. I am glad she lived in the moment, of every moment and now for another step forward as I try to do the same.

My mother's daughter...

Tomorrow my son will be five years old. I made arrangements for his party at a karate school near my work, it is my first official birthday party. Usually we just have cake and ice cream with the family but parties like that seem to emphasize the fact that my mom is missing. I shopped for Connor's gift and party favors alone one Friday afternoon while the kids were still in daycare. I ordered the food and cake without my mom and realized that this is how my life will be moving forward. I keep telling myself that I am upset because my mom is missing all this, she is not here to see her only grandson turn 5 and she would have loved it so! In those moments when I am truly honest with myself I admit that I am more devastated over the fact that I don't get to see my mom seeing Connor turn 5. I have lost something so wonderful and most of the time I try to be thankful that I had it at all, but lately I have been failing miserably. I just want my mom back, I want to scream at someone, anyone and demand an answer to the question, "Why did she leave me?" I know how childish that sounds and all I can say is that I am her child and being 36 years old doesn't mean that I miss my mom any less than my 3 year old daughter misses me when I am away from her.

Death is what it is, the emotional reaction to it is the part that gets me. Since my mom's passing I have become afraid to do things that are totally unrelated to her death. For example, I don't want to go to the grocery store by myself, I did it a million times while my mom was alive but for some reason it is hard to handle now. I guess it has to do with the fact that if my mom was alive I knew in my heart that I could call her if I didn't want to go alone and she would go along for the ride. It is really difficult to move forward without that cushion in life. I force myself to do all these things alone because I know I can't stop living nor do I want to. I have even gone to restaurants and had dinner alone with my kids which is not something I ever did. I guess it was a personal challenge I set for myself. It was actually a lot of fun, talking to my kids about Connor's birthday while we ate pancakes for dinner. I have gotten into the habit of writing down the really great stuff I do with my husband and children so that I never forget what I am living for. They say having a child is making the choice to allow your heart to live outside of your body, mine is split in two and still lives on. In the beginning of our marriage James and I would always say to each other "You are the love of my life, my future" and I never realized until now how true that is. James is most definitely my future. He is the person who is only concerned for me, I won't say he is my soulmate because I find that to be such nonsense. Marraige is never easy and the whole soulmate concept makes it sound like a walk in the park. James is not my soulmate, he is simply the man I love and trust, the man who shows me the path when I am lost and remains calm in my storm. He smiles at my clumsiness and believes that his life would not be complete if me and the kids weren't a part of it. These are the things I am living for because my mom didn't raise a fool and I keep moving forward because she didn't raise a coward either.

I miss her every moment of every day. I find myself posting messages on her Facebook account because it actually feels like I am talking to her. Silly, but true. I am sure I will visit that page tomorrow to share the fun of her grandson's 5th birthday with her. I will share with her the details of the party favors I bought alone and describe the cake that Connor agreed to after I spent 35 minutes explaining to him that he couldn't have a picture of my friend Jill! If my mom were alive i wouldn't have to tell her these things because she would have been by my side experiencing them with me. Sometimes, I just close my eyes for a few moments and pretend she has just gotten a few steps ahead of me and she will be there waiting when I finally catch up. It is a nice thought in those brief moments and when I open my eyes again I can feel her all around me. So again, I take a deep breath and step forward...

Anger makes the best speech you'll ever regret...

This morning I had to wait for a man to jog through the intersection before I could turn into the daycare center to drop off my children and it made me angry. I could feel my blood pressure rising and could hear myself yelling inside my head. I actually thought about nudging him out of the way with my car!--Okay, I didn't give that thought any serious consideration but the fact that it came to mind makes me worry about my own mental status.

I miss my mom and I am so angry at the world because she was taken from me, from my children and my family. She was my friend, the person I could call when I was upset about something stupid and now I don't have that. I know it is not fair to wish her back to a body that couldn't keep up with her spirit but dammit, I want her back. I will never call someone Mom again in my lifetime and that seems to make something inside me very dark and very irrational. I don't sleep at night anymore because I can't get past the images of my mom in that stupid hospice or being poked and prodded in that awful hospital. I know that my mom's death should not be about me, it should be about her. I can tell you what an amazing woman my mom was but I will never be convinced that you fully appreciate the fact. My children are young and they miss my mom dearly right now and I pray that they always remember her. They are so beautiful and so innocent that I want to know how God could take their grandmother! My mom lived with cancer for 10 years and never needed any form of treatment but along comes this disease that takes her within months, leaving me without her and clouding my memories with pain and anguish. She was the glue for us and now I watch my family fall to pieces and although I hate to say something so petty, IT IS NOT FAIR! Who the hell makes these decisions? I don't think they looked close enough at my mom, they didn't realize that this one woman held together an entire clan of people. Somebody overlooked the fact that we needed her before they snatched that strong, vibrant woman away from us.

There is something about laying awake in a dark room that makes you feel utterly alone even if someone is beside you. I try to lie still so as not to wake my husband but sometimes you think that tossing and turning may help you escape the terrors that your mind relives in that empty darkness. Since my mom's death I have realized that I can function on 2 to 3 hours of sleep a night and still get up and make it through my day. I am up by 5:30, showered and dressed by 6 when I wake the kids to get them off to daycare. We are out the front door by 6:45 and I am sitting at my desk by 7:30 if Cadence doesn't have a meltdown when I drop her off. Last week she cried as I went to leave and when I promised to be back after work to pick her up she screamed that Meemom never came back. Seeing so much misery in her big eyes, so blue like my mom's, makes me want snatch her up with her brother and run away. The pain always finds you and then you have to deal with the idiots that tell you it gets easier. That is the biggest load of bullshit I think anyone ever put to me. It doesn't get easier, it just becomes a part of you and you learn to hide it and tell people you are doing better. Basically, you lie to them so that they can move on with their lives. My mom would be truly disappointed if I didn't move on with my life, she would be sad to see me trapped in grief over her and other than my precious family that is the only thing that keeps me moving forward instead of stepping back or dropping out completely.

You cannot lie to everyone in your life. Some people just know you too well to allow it and others you let in by choice. My husband James knows me very well and he knows my anger despite the fact that I never voice it to him. He is sweet enough to let me have it for now and tells me I have the right to be mad because my mom's death is infuriating. At work, there is one coworker who is the person I have let in by choice. She always listens when I am teetering on the edge and she managed to not look alarmed when I shared my desire to sick my minivan on an innocent jogger. She actually manages to make me laugh with her sarcastic humor and makes me feel like something clicks inside. In a lifetime there are very few people that will share each nuance of your sense of humor. For the most part you can get people to laugh with you at the classics, but it is rare to find that person who is amused by the dark side of your humor. I have found Jill and the mean side of my humor exists pleasantly with hers. We tend to be amused by things that might make others look on in mild alarm and we always seem to find ourselves announcing that we are going to hell for whatever sarcastic comment hit the spot at a particular moment in time. I can see in her face that she is concerned for me and I know that she is upset by my pain, but she always does me the favor of dropping a witty, sarcastic line rather than boohoo me. I guess most people would take that opportunity to regain their composure but I always use it to vent the effects of my mental breakdown. It works for me and I am always thankful to Jill for being the person she is.

Jill shares stories of her mom with me and I love to listen. She is wise enough to appreciate her mom and lucky enough to consider her as her best friend. Hearing Jill speak of her mom makes me remember the wonderful times I had with my mom and it makes me realize that I would never change a single moment with her. So, I guess that jogger this morning can thank Jill and her mom for the fact that he didn't get his skinny butt run over by a minivan! And I will continue to thank Jill for her witty, intelligent sense of humor and I will thank her mom for teaching her daughter the perfect blend of sarcasm and compassion.

Missing Meemom...

Life without my mom is difficult to say the least. I miss her dearly and still have that horrible crushing sensation in my chest when I wake up and realize she is not going to be a part of my day. I do not want to make my life about surviving without my mom and I am sure in time it will stop being that, but right now I am just holding on. My days are falling into a routine which is a good thing but for some reason makes me feel trapped. Perhaps because life with my mom was anything but routine!—we did a million things on a whim or simply to say that we had done them. My mom really lived and when I have moved on to the next part of my journey I want my kids to smile and say the same of me. Throughout her entire life, my mom made things fun for us girls and it is not until now when I look at my own children that I realize she did it for her own happiness as much as for ours. On rainy days she used to strap on roller skates and we would take a few spins around the dining room table, never giving a thought to the scuffs on those beautiful hardwood floors or the last minute camping trips when she would throw a cast iron skillet in the car and we would be on our way! My mom did these crazy things because she knew that her daughters would find it fun and exciting, the idea of an adult just throwing caution to the wind. Although she taught us to be responsible, self-sufficient and considerate she made sure we knew that life was meant live.

My children are starting to come to the realization that their grandmother is not coming back. The questions about Heaven are more frequent and more detailed. They want to know where their grandmother is and why she is not returning. These moments are intense and border on impossible. I hate to look into my children’s beautiful eyes and see the comprehension of death and all that it brings. I can’t think of anything more painful than watching the look in Connor’s eyes as he comprehends. I see his eyes well up and his lip quiver and I know that he understands and is trying to adjust to such a loss.

Yesterday was a very warm Sunday afternoon and I brought the kids to play outside while James was grilling. Usually, James will be outside grilling while I finish odds and ends in the kitchen and the kids play in the living room. For some reason, since my mom died that ritual just seems unacceptable, so I hustled the kids outside to play while I sat on the patio with James. During our conversation James opened the grill and managed to get a face full of smoke that made his eyes tear. Cadence wandered over to ask James why he was crying and he told her that he had a little bit of smoke in his eyes and that made him cry. Satisfied, she went on to ask about an old scar that he has on his neck from a surgery performed when he was treated for thyroid cancer several years before we met. It has always been there and is fairly noticeable, but for some reason Cadence never saw it before this day. “Daddy, where did you get that scratch on your neck?” she asked. We explained about the scar and how it was just a mark left from having a booboo fixed and then watched as she thought this over. “Did a doctor do that?” she asked with “doctor” sounding like “docker” in her little voice, and when James told her yes a doctor had fixed the booboo for him she looked to me. “The docker didn’t fix Meemom.” I smiled sadly at her and explained that sometimes people are too sick and a doctor just can’t fix it. The thought of my mom missing her granddaughter growing up made me cry once again for the loss. Cadence looked at my tearing eyes and asked simply, “Mommy, why are you crying?” I told her it was because I missed my mom and she looked closely into my eyes and asked “Do you have a little bit of Meemom in your eye?”

I guess I do…

Chicken soup in heaven...

A bit of time has passed since my mom’s funeral and each of us is trying in our own way, to go back to our lives and make them as normal as possible. This is no small feat as my mom was such a huge part of everything we did. Dana and Dan continue to make renovations to the house they shared with my mom and my mom’s brother and sisters have headed home. James has gone back to work and I have put my children into daycare for the first time in their young lives. I chose a facility down the road from my office on the recommendation from a coworker and lucky for me she was right about how wonderful it is. My kids fell right into the routine of daycare life but it was a bit more difficult for me. James is out the door before 6 am and home around 8 pm, leaving me with breakfast and dinner and all those things before and after. I think I am doing okay with it and only screamed myself hoarse 3 days out of 5 that first week and dinner was mostly take-out. The next week got a bit better and the screaming was replaced by hysterical crying after the kids went to bed and before James got home and dinner stepped up to home-cooked frozen dinners.

The weekends seem to be the most difficult for me. I miss her the most on Saturday mornings when I would have talked to her on the phone for an hour before I got the kids dressed to swim at her house where we would talk for several more hours. I know that I will miss something about her each day and the ache I feel when I think of her being gone will never go away, it will just become a part of who I am, just like loving her is a part of me. The kids still ask when they can go to see her and I can feel the tears burning the back of my throat as I explain to them that Grandmom is in Heaven now and we won’t be seeing her until it is time for us to go there. Connor always asks if she went to Heaven because of the booboo in her brain and that is when the tears fall; big fat drops full of anguish because little boys shouldn’t know about these things. Those are the moments that I have to leave the room while I sob and beg God to please give her back.

My mom taught me that every event in your life is an opportunity whether it is good or bad is up to you. I try to use that advice when my brain won’t let go of the suffering. Although she handled it with strength and dignity, this disease forced my mom to suffer her worst nightmare before it took her away. It was a harsh thing to watch and those are the images that come to me in the dark when I cannot fall asleep. I can see her thrashing legs, her body twitching in pain as the disease ate away at her nerves and I can hear her voice slurred and breaking, asking Dan when she thought us girls were out of the room, why this was happening to her. Each time these thoughts come to drown me I remember Dan caring for my mom, I think of how wonderful it felt when I realized that for 26 years of her life my mom spent each of her days with a man who truly loved her; surrounded and loved by her daughters and grandchildren. My mom knew what she had while she had it and I remind myself that this is the lesson I need to take away from the nightmare. I need to focus on my own wonderful husband, the man who is beside me whenever I need him but always allows me to lead when I feel I must. Our beautiful children who we have come to realize are far more intelligent than we could ever hope to be, are the gifts that keep me going. When my mom was alive I would watch her with my children and think that they were born just for her. She loved each and everything about them. When I was mortified that Connor started telling anyone who would listen that his “pee-pee was getting bigger everyday” my mom simply laughed her wonderful laugh and said “Jodey, relax, men have been bragging about their pee-pees for hundreds of years” or when Cadence decided sleeping at night just wasn’t for her I could always count on my mom to come out in her pajamas after midnight to ride around the neighborhood with me until Cadence fell asleep. Thank God for the 2am Taco Bell drive-thru! It is a difficult thing to be outwitted, outlasted, and outplayed by your children but my mom always said “If both kids are in the car when you put it in drive you have faced and won half the battle.”

Tomorrow is the Fourth of July holiday and we still be having our annual cook-out at Dana’s house. We decided it wouldn’t be right to just ignore the holiday so we toned it back a bit and decided to forego the fireworks. Dana managed to get the pool clear by following my mom’s directions, throw in as many chemicals as it takes to get rid of the green and then have it tested so that the tech can tell you to run the filter continuously because you have too many chemicals in the pool. It works for us! I know it won’t feel the same being at Dana’s house without my mom but I can’t imagine being anywhere else. I love to see my kids with Dan too. During my mom’s illness they missed him as much as her and it feels good to see them playing and to watch him enjoy them. He walks us out to the car when we leave and tells the kids “I’ll see you later” just as my mom always did and I watch his eyes fill with tears as I start to pull away from the curb and the kids yell “I love you, Papa Dan.” It will be our first holiday without her but in all honesty the pain will be the same as any other day. We miss her and holidays don’t make that any better or any worse. Every place I go holds a memory of my mom. It makes it difficult some days to even run to the store for milk but again, I can’t imagine being anywhere else. Remembering my mom is never a bad thing and I know that as time goes by the images of her laughing and smiling will come before the hospital scenes. I am sure I will be able to talk about her to my children without choking on the words; I really need to be able to do that because my children deserve to remember her, to know that she always shined, she bought her dogs Happy Meals from McDonalds when she thought they looked sad, she never said no to a person in need, she loved and she really lived.

At the dinner table last night Connor asked how he could bring his bowl of chicken soup to Heaven without it getting cold. He explained that it wouldn’t help Grandmom feel better if it were cold. I explained to him that he didn’t have to worry because Grandmom didn’t need his soup in Heaven, because no one ever gets sick in Heaven. My heart ached as I watched his tiny mouth curve into that brilliant smile and he said “Then I bet Grandmom is the most fun person in Heaven, because she sure was when she was here!”

My God, how I miss her…