It's Not Easy Being Me

Dad's Got A Purse

This past Saturday, we all met at my parent's house.  My sister brought my nieces and my brother-in-law brought my Dad because they had an errand to run before arriving.  As my Dad was exiting the vehicle, my sister and I looked over and she exclaimed, "That's my purse".  Sure enough, my father was carrying a multi-colored, velvet Hobo bag.

My sister asked her husband why Dad had the purse and he said that he grabbed it on the way out of the house.  I was really enjoying this sight because I'm bad that way, but my sister ruined the moment when she informed my father that he was carrying a woman's purse.  I don't think he'll be using it anymore, although he didn't have any qualms about packing some more belongings in it before he left.

When I mentioned this incident to my dear friend Barbara, I expressed my disappointment that my sister had immediately told my father that his "carryall" was a purse.  She was very sympathetic and said, "Sure, you wanted to spare his feelings".  Hell, no!  I wanted to enjoy the sight and possibly capture it on camera.  Did I mention that Barbara's a really good person?

But then again, that's our family.  If I didn't have these moments of the absurd, I probably wouldn't be half as sane (or is it insane?) as I am.

I Miss You

Mami, I miss you.  Every day seems to get harder not easier.  I try to be strong for everyone but it's very difficult. 

Friends and family try to be helpful.  They say that you'll always be a part of me, that you'll always be in our hearts and minds.  That's very true.  But can that take the place of being with you?  It's not much consolation right now. 

Some people tell me that at least you're not suffering anymore and you're finally at peace.  I know they're probably right but I also know that you didn't want to leave.  I don't know that I'd have the strength to fight like you or endure what you did.  You never gave up.  You fought for any extra minute you could squeeze out of life.  How can I be at peace knowing that you wanted to stay here so badly?  How can I be strong when I know you were afraid?

Others tell me that you wouldn't want me feeling this way.  I know that!  But I have a terrible void in my soul which can't be filled.  No amount of prayer or positive thoughts or pragmatism have made a dent in my grief.   Every day brings another memory or a regret which feeds this profound sadness.

And no one has explained to me how I'm supposed to accept that I'm never going to see you again.

It Gets Harder Every Day

I thought that it would be getting a little easier, time healing wounds and all that, but it's only gotten worse.  Yesterday I missed my mother enormously.  It didn't help that I had terrible nightmares about her the night before.  But it wasn't just that. 

My son had lots of homework and I told him to show my father everything that he'd done.  It's difficult to keep my father engaged and interested so I'm trying to include him in almost everything that goes on here.

As Christian showed my father his work, I kept thinking how much my mother would have enjoyed sharing that moment with him.  Education was very important to her and she was very proud of Christian so I knew it would have been something special for her. 

Later on, I was cleaning up my kitchen and lamented the fact that she didn't get to really enjoy it.  The kitchen was recently remodeled and although she saw it finished, it would have been nice if we could have spent some time cooking together. 

I know I have to stop thinking like this because it's only making things worse.  Or maybe it's just a natural consequence of grieving.  Mourning each and every loss, no matter how small.  I really don't know but it's been a very hard day.

Christian's in High School!

Christian is now a freshman in high school!  It seems like only yesterday that we were taking him to his first day at Pre-K.

His father and I walked him to school so we could avoid the mayhem of the first week.  It gets very congested with all the nervous parents, student drivers, and buses.

Christian didn't seem impressed that we were with him but we enjoyed it.  We won't have the chance to share these moments with him much longer so I want to take advantage of every moment.

He has a heavy class load and they're all difficult classes so it's going to be a challenging year for him.  I'm hoping his enthusiasm will help him stay focused. 

The Last Goodbye

The last time I saw my mother alive, she was asleep in her hospital bed.  I hugged her and kissed her and told her that I loved her.  She didn't respond.  In fact, she hadn't spoken to me since the early morning hours when I asked her if she wanted to sit in the recliner.  After I moved her, she fell  asleep.  When her brother arrived, I tried to wake her to tell her that he was there.  She just mumbled O.K. but never even opened her eyes.

I wonder what was going through her mind.  Was she dreaming?  Was part of her conscious but unable to respond?  Was she aware that she was dying?  Did she hear me tell her that I loved her?  Did she feel my hugs and kisses?

I want to believe that she did.  I want to believe that she made peace with her fate and was beginning her journey to a wonderful place.  I want to KNOW something, anything that will make this all O.K.

Sweet Support

It's very difficult for me to ask for help.  There are lots of reasons, but the bottom line is that it's only been relatively recently that I've been able to ask for what I need and to accept help when it's offered.

It's not always easy but I feel much better when I do it.  During my mother's illness, so many friends and family members offered help that I truly felt humbled.  And I was able to accept some of it, more of it than I thought possible.  It felt good even if it felt difficult to let go sometimes.

Today I've decided to feature an article written by an inspirational woman and friend of mine, Julie Jordan Scott. Here's a great excerpt which really hits home for me:

I said, "When I am vulnerable, brave and allow
the sweet support to appear.

I need to state what I need - often times
putting a perceived weakness out to the world -
which takes boldness and strength - and then
detach from what shows up in response and
allow what the Universe is offering me to appear.

And it does, each time.

Please click through to read Julie's complete article and definitely stop by her blog at http://juliejordanscott.typepad.com/julie_unplugged/

Hers and Mine

Feeding my mother was sometimes a challenge.  At one point, she was on a liquid diet and she craved very cold, very sweet (artificially, of course) drinks.

Other times, she just had no desire for the foods she normally liked.  There were certain foods which she asked for and they weren't things that I normally bought.  Sugar-free tapioca and rice puddings, Glucerna meal replacement shakes, Fruit 2 O flavored water, plantain chips, etc.

After she died, I looked into the fridge and saw HER food and MY food.  And I couldn't bear to eat any of the food that I had specifically bought for her. It didn't matter that I liked the puddings or the flavored water.  The association with her was so strong that I couldn't, and still can't, eat them.

Time

“Time is life. It is irreversible and irreplaceable. To waste your time is to waste your life, but to master your time is to master your life and make the most of it.”

-- Alan Lakein 

One night during my mother's last hospital visit, we discussed her bowel problems and what the doctors could and couldn't do.  At one point, she looked away and said, "I didn't know that I had so little time left".  It broke my heart and I said, "Don't worry, you're not going to die in the hospital.  The doctors are going to take care of your problem and I'm going to take you home".  She died three days later.

I keep replaying that conversation over and over again. I really believed that she'd be coming home but I don't think she did. Was she being prescient?  She was definitely melodramatic especially when it came to her health, but this time it seemed different.  She seemed resigned.  But did she accept her fate?  I don't know.

To me there's a big difference between accepting something and resigning yourself to it.  Acceptance is peace and a readiness to open yourself up to whatever may come.  Resignation is defeat, giving up in the face of insurmountable odds.  It isn't peaceful or gentle; it's bitter and sad.

I know that up until that day, my mother hadn't accepted that there wasn't anything else that could be done.  I don't know if she harbored any hopes of being "cured", she said she didn't.  But I know that she was fighting tooth and nail for TIME.   

What of us who think we have unlimited time?  Those who are still young and healthy or just don't dwell on their mortality.  Will we ever feel we had enough?  Are we going to continue wasting time until it runs out? 

 

Happy Birthday Jackie!

My sister's birthday is today and I can't imagine how difficult it must be for her.  My mother loved celebrations, making lots (and I mean LOTS) of food and getting the family together. Every event and holiday from now on will be extremely difficult as we start marking "the first birthday without Mom", "the first Thanksgiving with Mom", etc.   

Happy Birthday dear sister.  I love you and I know that Mom loved you more than you can possibly know.

Denial

It's been almost a week since my mother died and I still can't believe it.  When I took my dad by their house today, it didn't seem strange not to see her there because she hadn't been back home in almost 2 months.  She'd either been in the hospital or at my house.  Everything is still waiting for her return.

It might seem odd that I'm so shocked by her death knowing that she was terminally ill.  But as anyone who's gone through this knows, measuring the amount of life left in someone is not an exact science.  Not even the doctors prepared us for her death, in fact they seemed to think that she could go on for weeks, even months.  That makes me angry.

No one can tell me why she died.  I know she had advanced ovarian cancer which had metastasized.  But how could so many medical professionals miss the obvious signs of someone who was dying. The gastroenterologist was planning to insert a stent in her colon on Monday. Her attending physician saw her on Saturday afternoon and told us that even if the stent didn't work, she had at least a couple of weeks. What happened?

We'll never know because it's not important to the medical establishment.  She was terminal, in hospice, and we're just family members who can't accept her death.

But it is important because no one deserves to die the way she did.  She was neglected at the hospital and we were misled.  Every moment is precious and if they had been more aggressive and taken her symptoms more seriously then we would have had more time together.  But, then again, ours is a culture of victory not acceptance.  We'll spend millions to "cure" diseases but don't want to know how to help people die dignified deaths.  Once the cause is lost, we move on.

That's exactly what the medical profession did.  They moved on and left us all behind.

One Thing At A Time ~ Part 2

Item No. 2 on my to-do list for Tuesday was to get a cashier's check for the funeral home.  Simple, right?  Apparently not.  I was placed on my parent's accounts as POA (power of attorney) about two weeks ago when I visited one of the branches and completed the paperwork.  It appears that the young man handling the account left out a very crucial step:  having me sign a signature card.