A New Year

A new year is coming. I hope it brings smiles and laughter with less pain behind them. I hope it brings good luck and joy to those I care about, and less tragedy. I hope I have an angel watching over me this year.

Dreams... what are they?

I have been meaning to write something about this for awhile, and I hope some people will offer their insight to me. For other MD's or people who have lost someone, have you had dreams of that person? What were they like and what is your opinion of them? I suppose this also leads into a discussion of faith... something I am very undecided about since my mom died. Before she died, I would have sworn there is an afterlife, sworn that everything happens for a reason and that we will get signs from those who have passed once they are no longer with us... but I guess because things have not been like what I would have expected, I'm not sure what to believe anymore. Most people I have talked to, like my brother, have had very similar dreams to me. In the dream, we are aware that our mom is dead, and a little shocked by it. She too is aware of it and then downplays it until we can move forward into wherever that dream may take us. Have you had similar experiences? Do you take these as some type of "visitation" of sorts or do you think they are purely psychological? I remember the first dream of my mom after she died. It was about three weeks later, and it was in the middle of the day. I took a nap and there she was, as clear as day. That one dream was more real then any other dream I have ever experienced in all of my life. In fact, I remember telling myself in my dream that I would have to call Joe (my friend whose mom died a few years ago) to tell him that I was sure there was a heaven. In my dream, we did the whole "um, aren't you dead?" thing. Then we went for a drive and she seemed very happy and laughed, and overall it was great. Since then I have had other dreams of her. Most of time we both can acknowledge her death, occasionally in my dream it was all just a big mistake and she is alive again (but again, always the acknowledgement of what happened). They have not ever felt as "real" as that one dream. Some are clear and some are not. Some make perfect sense and some do not. And I can never predict when they will happen... I want to believe they are something more then mine own psychology playing with me. I mean, if it was that, why can't I dream about her every night? I certainly think about her every day. I would think they would be more often if they were driven by our thoughts. Why do so many people have these types of dreams after someone dies? I have thought about this for over a year now, but was reminded of it again last week when my uncle called me. He called to tell me that he had a dream about my mom that day. He said it was the most realistic and clear dream he has ever had. And it made me wonder.

I would love to hear other people's experiences and thoughts on this topic. I guess I feel the same way about "signs" from her. At first, there were a handful of things I thought must have had something to do with my mom, but I feel as if those are less and less these days. And lastly, the concept of healing. Do we heal from significant deaths in our lives? Surprisingly, I had never even considered it before because I somehow just assumed from the first day that I would forever be living with this pain. I understand that it changes, and it has changed for me... if I think about what life was like this time last year compared to this year, the feeling and the experience of it has changed. Does that mean I am healing or that I am learning how to live with it? I think I am in some ways terrified of the concept of healing. I don't know why... maybe I am afraid of forgetting her. I realize that sounds ridiculous, considering I have had even one day since she died that I have not thought about her. Or maybe I am afraid that she will mean less if I am healed. And if we do heal, how long does that process take and what does it look like when it happens? How do we know?

Epiphany?

Last night I was thinking of my mom as I was driving, wondering to myself what it is that has made this such a life altering event, why I seem to feel so empty without her in my life. The answers to those questions are complicated without question, but one of the things I realized is that she was the one person who I never felt invisible to. It is hard to explain... but my whole life I have felt invisible, felt as if there is nothing unique or special to who I am. I have no extreme unique talents, I live in a small house in the same state I have lived my whole life. Growing up, I tried to be the "easy" child. Get good grades, listen to my parents, try to somehow lessen the stress they were under with my brother. And that fly under the radar thing has sort of stuck with me, and made me think that no one would even notice if I wasn't around. My mom and I used to talk everyday, if I didn't call her for more then a day she would most def be calling me to see what was up. I know I can't expect anyone to take that role over now that she is gone. But my Dad and I for awhile were talking every day. I was calling him because I felt like I needed to call someone, it was what I had done for years and years. But then I get depressed and I don't call, and no one calls to wonder why.

And my mom wanted to talk to me just because. Just to see how my day was or to tell me about hers. If I was hurt or angry about something she was the biggest support. She helped me feel justified when that was what I needed. Now I call people and hang up feeling like just a burden. They talk to me because I suppose they feel it is their duty, but mostly they say they don't want to be in the middle of things (which sounds a lot like I don't care to hear about it).

So I guess one of the things I miss most about my mom, is how she made me feel worthwhile, noticed, special, unique, important... and without her my cloak of invisibility seems to be working its awful magic.

I had a dream about her again last night. It is a recurring theme now. In my dream she is suddenly alive again. Either by miracle or by some gross error in thinking she had been dead, she is back, alive and smiling again. And I love these dreams and hate them. I get angry because I feel like it is my subconcious still secretly hoping that this isn't real, this isn't permanent. And when I wake up, I have to face the reality that no such miracle could ever happen.

So where to from here? Therapy I suppose, lol. Who knows really. One foot in front of the other, one day after another. Will my smile ever hold real happiness behind it again? I can smile, I have always been able to smile a lot... but it isn't quite real, or at least not the same. And I have been dreaming of things I want to accomplish, but I have this nagging voice in my head that keeps telling me my dreams are stupid and childish wants from someone who can't get over their mother's death. So I am pulled both ways and not sure how to give myself the push I need to just go after my dreams.

Love and Hope, Sadness and Grief

I think of you when I wake up... usually as I am in the shower, getting ready for another day, or doing my make-up...

I think of you when I am laughing at Abaigeal, when she does something adorable or new, something funny or endearing...

I think of you when I am having a good day and want to share it with someone...

I think of you when I am having a horrible day and want to crawl into bed, cry and sleep the day away...

I think of you when I need advice and have no one to call...

I think of you when I pick up the phone to call Dad, or Nana, or anyone who I try to turn to, when the one person I need is no longer here...

I think of you when I accomplish something and want you to be proud of me...

I think of you when I make mistakes and know you would not be so proud of me, but you would still love me anyway...

I think of you when I hear certain songs on the radio, mostly country songs that always make me cry...

I think of you when I write to Mikie in jail, or recieve letters back from him (I wish we could talk about it)...

I think of you when I see your paintings on my wall or your photos on my refrigerator...

I think of you when I go to sleep, always hoping that I will get to have a dream of you...

Sometimes I am filled with anger.

anger at God... or the universe... or whatever caused this...

anger at Mike, for being so irresponsible, for making me feel so insignificant that I don't even deserve a phone call or a response, for treating you the way he treated you...

anger at you for not eating better and being more pro-active...

anger at myself for not forcing you to see a doctor about your foot...

anger at myself for not giving you a hug goodbye when I had the chance...

Sometimes I am filled with gratitude.

gratitude for the life and the love you gave me...

gratitude that we were so close, that I could truly call you my friend...

gratitude for having you to plan my wedding with, watch me get married, meet my daughter, teach me the beginnings of motherhood...

gratitude for showing me what it means to accept yourself...

gratitude for your laughter and sense of humour....

gratitude for my beautiful amazing little girl...

gratitude for my family and friends...

gratitude for the book you wrote and the smiles and laughs it gives me...

gratitude for women like Ellie who have helped guide me through this...

gratitude for the role model you have been...

gratitude for the memories...

Sometimes I am filled with hope.

hope for the things I will do with my life...

hope for Abaigeal and the life she will have...

hope that there is something, anything, after we die...

hope that you are looking over us...

hope that I am making you proud...

hope that I will see you again someday...

hope that Mikie will someday recover...

hope that James will get through these difficult years and have an amazing future...

hope that someday I will feel truly happy again....

Sometimes I am filled with sadness.

Sadness that I can not describe and will not try.

Through it all I am always filled with love. Love from you and for you. And that love will carry me through.

Up and Down

I have heard grief described as ocean like, heard that you can sometimes be knocked over by the waves. I read somewhere else about "grief attacks". I think, over a year later, this is the first time I felt like a wave came out of no where and just knocked me over. I thought I was doing so good. I have tried to focus on myself, do things for myself, follow one of my dreams and I felt really good about it. But I knew this thing was bothering me. Maybe it was just that one thing, or maybe a combination of all the things that seem to keep happening, but whatever it was has been nagging. I have tried to call people in my family to talk about it. They know what is going on, so I turn to them for advice. But it never feels comfortable. I feel more like a nuisance or a hassle trying to ask for help with this. It never ever once felt that way when I called my mom. I keep trying and trying to figure out what she would want me to do right now, I have two opposite choices in how I can handle it, and for the life of me I don't know what she wants. So tonight I guess this wave that has been building and building finally broke and caught me off guard. If things happen for a reason, then her dying should mean that I am strong enough to get through this alone and to depend on myself, but times like this just feel plain lonely. I know as time continues to move, the good days and the positive moments should feel longer and the sudden outbursts of crying should lessen, but it still just stinks.
Okay, a disclaimer for anyone who actually reads this blog. I am not constantly sad and crying even though you might think I am nothing but a complainer by reading these posts. It's just that when it is really getting me, I write about it, and then it paints a skewed picture of me. Tonight is one of those sad nights, I will try to set myself a goal to write something the next time I am feeling really good. I swear I am not so depressing all the time!!

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these moments, these memories...

I have sat down at my computer, wanted to write something, and walked away a number of times in the past week. I suppose I am ready now. Ready to acknowledge that "the day" has passed. It has now officially been over a year since my mom died. At first you count in days, then in months, and now I join the women who count in years.
It was a difficult weekend, for more reasons then just the anniversary. But to try and be positive, I spent some nice time with my Nana, my little brothers and my Uncle Brendan. We went to stay at mom's camp Saturday night. It was one of her favorite places, she always talked about it and I only went there once when she was alive. At first, I was, well for lack of a better word, pissed. When we went in there were dirty dishes everywhere and moldy food on the counter and in the refrigerator, an unmade bed... just a mess. This, if you knew my mom, was not her at all. She would have flipped out to see it that way, and you wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere near her if you had left it that way. So I was hurt that my step sister has used the camp and not taken care of it. But, we all cleaned until it was sparkling again, the way my mom would have. And overall, we all did okay. We had a fire and made s'mores and roasted hotdogs. In the morning, we went to breakfast at an adorable little place in the small town up the road. It was exactly the kind of place my mom would have loved and the food was great so it made me feel good to go there. Then we walked around the shops... Now, the one time I had gone to the camp when she was alive she asked me to go with her and walk around Bolton (we could shop little quaint stores together all day long), but I turned her down and told her I wanted to go the village of Lake George with Chad instead and had her babysit. I still have regret about it. I would give anything to have one more memory with her... but I guess that is beside the point. So I did go to Bolton, a year after she died. I loved the shops, and of course thought of her non-stop. Then we went back to the camp to meet my grandparents for a visit. It was nice, just sitting on the porch talking to them. And though I had planned to come back to Rochester that night, I just couldn't. I stayed at Dad's again.

This of course brings up a whole new topic. I have this yearning or urge to move. I know I have played with the idea over the past year, but everyone told me not to make a decision like that within the first year, and rightfully so. But a year is over, and here it is again, pulling at me. I can't quite identify it... is it partly my own want of a distraction? a kind of running away? will it be harder for me to move to her area and be even more reminded of her everyday or comforted by the family I will have to surround me and the ability to visit the cemetery anytime I want? do I want to move back to that area or just move in general, say to somewhere like New England where I have always said I wanted to live? So much is happening in my family right now, and I think part of me feels the pull to move because I want to take care of them, be there for them... but how much will that be a detriment to me? I can't replace her, I can't do what she could do for them or be who she was to them...

It's just an itch right now. I play around with it in my mind. It would be a huge decision, it would mean selling my house and being wiling to live in an apartment again until I was settled enough to get a house wherever I end up, and it would mean navigating my job in a new place which would be a huge change... but I don't know... it is tempting.

So, a year ago today the wake had just ended. I believe at this time I was at my uncle's bar drinking a shot of Jameson (lol, maybe not the best thing to do after a wake but I did sleep very deeply as soon as I got in the car). I have read other people's posts about losing their moms and some people say how it feels like they are living in a dream now, like they expect to wake up from it sometimes.... I feel like that sometimes. Or maybe not even that, it just feels different now. Everything about life feels different. But I am trying to be positive when I can. If this is the path that I was given to walk, how can I do it well, with my head held high and with a little girl looking up to me? I wonder what my next step on this journey should be?

These things I know... I will enjoy my amazing daughter, she can bring light to any dark day. I will follow my dreams, no matter how unreachable they may seem. I will try to enjoy the little things. I will try to forgive others and myself for anything that needs forgiving. I will try to be the daughter my mom would be proud of. I will keep her in my heart at all times.

Well, it is coming. The one year anniversary. I find it weird how I can feel it physically. I knew it would be emotional, I knew it would be on my mind, but I had no idea that my body would feel it coming like this. Constant nausea, just like after she died. That feeling in the pit of your stomach that just feels queasy, even though you know you aren't going to be sick. And oh the fatigue. I could just sleep and sleep.

Sunday, my little girls birthday is one year since I saw my mom. Even writing that, I tear up. How has so much time passed? I find myself just aching to talk to her. The little things, I want to tell her about the doll I got for Abby. It makes me remember the dolls she gave me when I was little, I wish I could have taken her shopping with me or have her see Abby's face when she opens her gifts. I want to talk to her so that I can laugh again. She always made me laugh at one thing or another, and even though I know I have laughed in the last year, it all feels less genuine. It is a laugh but beneath it all I can still feel the pain. I still feel like I'm not whole. I wonder if that will ever go away...

I'm trying to think back over the past year, but honestly it is very blurry, very fog like. I mean, I can remember the moments of when things happen as if it were this morning. They are forever scarred into my memory. I remember where I was standing and the words that came through the phone and the disbelief and the denial... but after it all, after everyone went back to their lives, my own life got blurry. I look at the year and it can both feel like it has been 10 years or 10 minutes. Which is worse I don't know.

Dear Mom,

I don't dream of you hardly ever now. Where have you been? I miss you so much, there are no moments when you are not somewhere in my thoughts. Life has been so different without you, I wish I had a chance to say some things to you, I never imagined a life without you here. I didn't really say "I love you" much, but I always knew how much you loved me, so I hope you know my love for you was well beyond those three words.

It is lonely here without you. I have to keep to myself so much more. No more daily, two or three times a day, phone calls. I miss hearing about things that you are doing, the funny things people at work did, the annoying things Mike did, or the cool things you are learning in your new job. I will never have a friend like you again. You made me smile no matter what. Your little "nothings" were somehow always interesting. Spending time with you was always comforting and fun. Dunkin Donuts coffee, garage sales, vagina trees, gossiping, laughing...

Rob and Ella have been great to me. They held an art show last October at the new spa with all of your art work. None of us ever really realized how much art you did until we had it all in one place. I know you wouldn't really like everyone staring at it all because you would be embarrassed but seriously, you have no choice, haha. Besides, you were an amazing artist and I am so lucky to have all the "lovers" just for me. Rob likes to be a real therapist to me before my massages and I remember talking to him pretty shortly after you died. He told me about losing his brother, and he told me his theory on life and death. He said that you and I chose this life and these experiences before we came here. Meaning we chose to go through this together. I don't know why I agreed to this if that's true, but I suppose maybe I have something to learn from it all. I am trying but it is so hard. I am so grateful though that I had you for my mom. I guess it is ego-centric but sometimes I think I really had the absolute best Mom a girl could ever ask for, and I am so thank ful for every moment of our time together.

I saw Ann last weekend. We stayed up and talked and laughed for hours, it was so much fun. She reminds me of you sometimes, which I guess she should since you two were so much alike with your crazy sense of humour. The funniest thing was right after you died, we had your book out and Ann flipped through and found the story about her and her period. She laughed and said how you promised not to include that in your book, LOL (anyone who knows you would probably laugh at that, I can just picture your face when the book is published and she reads that story... "oops"!) Wow, I am so thankful that you wrote that book, it always makes me laugh when I really need to. Do you remember the night we went to the hotel here with Patty and stayed up drinking and reading your stories?

Margo gave me something from you after you died. You asked me to take care of Mike and Mikie. I'm not doing a very good job Mom. Mike is a mess and I try not to get angry with him but he doesn't make it easy. Currently I want to ring his neck for the way he handled your life insurance money (I'm sure you know what I'm talking about)... I know he is hurting, but seriously, so am I, so is James and everyone, and I just know you would be mad about this. I feel torn between wanting to scream and strangle him and wanting to give him a hug and make him feel better. Strangely I think I am understanding your relationship better and better, lol. And well, Mikie. I just can't seem to muster the energy for that project. I have been so beside myself with my own grief, I just don't know what to do for him. I admire you so much, how on earth did you manage us all?? Shane is still pretty amazing. Turning into a real upstanding man like we knew he would. Him and Ericka are still together, they are trying to hike all 46 of the Adirondack High Peaks, which is amazing and yet scary when you think of Shane, mister clumsy and forgetful, not to mention the diabetes. But I think Ericka keeps a close eye on him for you. He misses you though, very much. And Jamesly. Your baby. I am so proud of him... I can't imagine having the strength to survive losing you at 15, and he is really amazing... it is obvious how deep his hurt goes, and it breaks your heart to see it, but I am trying to keep my eye on him. I try to leave him chocolate or send him little cards every once in awhile. He is getting very handsome now, so I'm sure you would be very worried about the girl situation right now, especially since he is back in public school now, haha.

I wonder if you can see what an impact you had. So many people miss you, including me. I think the hardest part is letting go of all the future things I would have liked to have you here for. I always thought you and I would end up neighbors someday and annoy Chad and Mike with how often we were at each others house. Or another trip together.... we kept talking about it but we didn't get to do it. Or your advice as I raise Abby, or just your being a grandmother, or "mimi" excuse me, to her. And having you to run to whenever I need it... you were the strongest person I have ever known, how did you get that way? I feel like a puddle of tears all the time. I wish you could be here to see Abby now. She talks a mile a minute, and she remembers you which is amazing. She asks about you all the time.

I miss you so much Mom. I hate that it has been a year since I have talked to you or seen you. Please come visit me in my dreams. I love you....

missing mom...

I miss her. I need her back again. Now, when things get hard or things get bad, they feel unbearable. I feel like I am collapsing under the weight of it.
She was the one I turned to, the one I called, the one I poured my heart out to and was able to walk away laughing about something. Now where can I go? My computer screen... that feels sad. I don't walk away laughing. If I try to talk to Chad we end up fighting. I feel alone.
I can feel my heart and my whole body as if they weigh a ton.

My Progress or lack thereof

I feel like I am moving into a different "stage" or different something in my grief. I wish I could say it was a good thing but I don't really think it is. I am calling this my "full of resentment and melancholy" stage.

Maybe it is the one year marker that is rapidly approaching... I mean, tomorrow is 11 months. How did that happen? Where was I and how can I really have lived so many months without my mom to talk to or laugh with? As it gets closer to the anniversary, or maybe just farther from when it all started, I am just feeling quieter. I can't summon up the energy to write anything lately. I have thought about it numerous times, then I sit down and I am just blank. I have stayed busy this past year, I think now it was just to avoid thinking about it. On the quiet nights when I have nothing to do I can feel myself ready to break down. Sometimes I wish that life was like some kind of a video game and I could hit "quit" and go back to the life I had before this.

Anyway, more then the melancholy which is assume is fairly normal, I am full of resentment. It is a terrible feeling to have, it is terrible to think that you are suddenly incapable of sympathy to others. One of the girls who is contributing to the book wrote about feeling like this for awhile after her mom died, so I am holding tight onto that, hoping it is a temporary thing.

Last week I went to another wake and funeral. Seems to be a pattern this year, a pattern I hope will end soon. It is such a mix of bad feelings going to them. I feel so self-centered because I always re-visit my moms while I should be focusing on the person being laid to rest then and there. It is like having horrid flashbacks. As I went up to Chad's grandfather, I could smell the body, the smell of a dead body, just like my moms. I remember her in the casket... we brought perfume to try and cover it up but it didn't do much. It hadn't even bothered me too much at the time, probably the shock of it all, but it just crushed me to smell it again, and to remember. And the funeral procession. As I drove Chad this time, I kept remembering every detail of when he drove me. I remember being the first ones to leave the church and getting in the car to wait for the procession to begin. I held a wet kleenex crumpled in my fingers and kept rolling and un-rolling it. I didn't know where to look as everyone was passing by my window on the way to their cars. People looked in at me, some people put their hands on the glass, it was very surreal. I remember every little detail, and they all just hurt so badly. And it is just hard to be places and be in your head thinking about things you shouldn't be and not being able to say anything to anyone. And then beating yourself up for not thinking about the right things or feeling sorry for yourself. And for the jealousy... I know people were sad, no funeral is happy, but there were some feelings of relief (no more suffering, with his wife now, lived a good long life...) and because my experience was so crushing, felt so unfair, I actually was jealous at a funeral. It is a horrible thing and I could sit here and lie and say that I wasn't, but truth be told I was.

And its the little things lately (always I guess) that hurt. At the wake, my daughter accidentally peed on my dress. My mom would have found that hilarious. I would have called her and laughed about it. Instead, I thought about how I would have done that and got mad that I couldn't.

And on the topic of jealousy (seems to be a theme, yikes) I have been having such a hard time with my step sister lately. Well first of all, my step father re-did my moms house after she died. I was upset at first because now it is different, but I then realized that it was what he needed for a type of therapy, and the changes he made were all things my mom would have liked. But it is still hard when I go into her house and have to ask where things are... it makes me feel much more like an outsider or guest then family and comfortable. Anyway, back to my step sister. Mind you none of this is her fault, none of this is justifiable anger or hurt. Well, I remember a few months back I was going to Albany for the weekend for something and my step-father was going to be out of town. Perfect I thought. A night with the house. (I usually stay at my dads when I visit now, but with no one in the house I really wanted to be there). Well, I told my step-father I wanted to stay there and then that day he told me Brittany would also be there with her son and boyfriend. I know there is plenty of room... but it took that specialness away from me. Then, more recently, she moved in to the house. And she drives my moms car. Both of these are for financial reasons that my logical self can surely understand... but my emotional self is not quite there. And this past weekend I wanted to spend Friday night after the wake at my moms camp. It was close by to where we needed to be, and I had never stayed there. The last time I was there was the week after she died, and I didn't stay the night. Other then that, I have only been there once when she was alive, but she talked about it all the time, she absolutely loved it there. So I looked forward to a night there, as emotional as it might have been. Well, that morning on facebook my step sisters status said she was staying at her dads camp that night. My heart literally fell through the floor. I called my step father crying and asked if she could stay somewhere else that night, but all he could say was that he couldn't ask her not to stay there and we should all just stay there together. For one, it just wouldn't be the same for me, and for two, it is tiny. Needless to say, she stayed there, I did not. I was my moms only daughter, she was my best friend, and I feel like I have nothing left of her except distant memories.

I guess this was pretty down... its just how I have been feeling lately. Lyndsey, I hope you don't get mad about the funeral and wake stuff, its hard for me to explain, and I am sorry for your loss and I don't mean to diminish it by what I wrote, I just have my own personal horribleness going on in my head and I needed to write it out, try to sort it out...

A Different Person

Are you a different person from the one you were before your mom died? It is such a strange feeling, but I know I am forever changed and I can't really describe it. Some people don't like the "new me", but I am trying not to take that to heart. I'm still hurting... still grieving... and I don't think the transformation of myself is anywhere near complete. I am trying to do positive things with the hand I was dealt... I am trying to raise awareness about heart disease in women, trying to learn from my mom's life now that I can truly look at it and analyze it. She lived with heart, she followed her instincts and knew exactly who she was no matter what. In my opinion, living that kind of life requires a great deal of courage and strength. I am trying to appreciate life, trying to do things I want to do instead of putting them off until some unknown day in the future (which may not be given to us). I want to write things down, if for nothing else but for my daughter to have something of me, something to show her who I was as a person, a woman, a mother. I am trying to be positive, but I feel like I am failing miserably at it. Trying to stop assuming people are dead if I can't get in touch with them, lol. I'm trying to be true to myself, even though I don't really know who that is anymore. And occasionally, I just break down and act like a little girl, I just want my mom. She would know what to do. She would talk to me, she would make me laugh. My god, it feels like it has been so long since I have really laughed, laughed and not felt that tug of sadness beneath it. Ugh. Just having that kind of weekend I guess. And seeing my step father falling to pieces makes me even more sad, and it makes me wonder if that's why I haven't been dreaming of her... maybe she is watching over him for now, since he seems to be doing the worst of all of us. (rightfully so considering he also lost his son this year.) The book I am reading says that in times of great pain you have two choices, you can lay down and go to sleep (just give up basically and be numb and let whatever happens happen) or you can keep pushing through the pain to a "re-awakening" of sorts. I am tired, but I'm trying not to just go to sleep. I'm sorry this is so depressing!

Okay, on a positive note, Abby is just the cutest and always makes me smile, especially when she puts on music and does little made up contemporary dances around the kitchen. And tomorrow I am going to the cemetery to bring flowers, and that will be positive as long as it doesn't rain. :) And, I get to see Lyndsey tomorrow night, and hopefully will have a laugh or two.

Random thoughts...

Today was Abaigeal's first dance recital. I can't really describe the feeling of pride I felt watching her go out on stage... it was just an amazing feeling, and it made me think differently about how our moms must have felt about us so many times throughout our lives. It wasn't until well after that I started to feel as if it was a little bittersweet. My mom would not have missed this for anything. She would have just loved seeing Abby out there dancing. I hate that I can't share any of this with her anymore... And people say that she was there in spirit... but I have no clue how I feel about that. I used to be so sure that there was something after death, and always thought that if it was someone really close to you then you would be able to feel them around you in some way. I haven't had that experience at all. I haven't even had a dream about her in so long now. I have had to suppress some of my anger when everyone else says they can feel them around... why would she be around them and not me?
And then I got that book, "feathers brush my heart", have you read it Ellie? I feel like such a cynic when I read it that I just had to stop. Some of the stories were just making me mad, I mean I have had a few experiences where I wonder... maybe... but then I don't know if I am looking too much into it. And how do you not get mad at me or resent the fact that I got almost ten more years with my mom then you got with yours? In these stories most of the moms were like 90 when they died and I found myself just getting stuck on that and feeling really frustrated. I know that is horrible, I know it hurts no matter how old you are, but if I'm honest, it bothers me sometimes. :/
But, anyway, Abaigeal was amazing, and I don't think I have smiled so big in a long time.

Response to Ellie's Post...

Wow, lately I have had trouble being positive, so I hope this helps.

In life, she gave me family values. I have never really met another family as close as ours. My brothers, dad, grandparents, aunts and uncles are all so close. I can't imagine surviving losing her without them. She taught me that when you love family it means unconditionally. My brother has struggled with addiction for so many years now, but she never gave up on him, and she never ever stopped loving him. It helps me to think of that when I make mistakes or do things I don't think she would be proud of. I know in my heart she would always love me no matter what.

She gave me the need to always smile, and laugh freely. It feels like it has been awhile since I have really laughed, but I do have a bit of a reputation for always having a smile on my face. And I can't ever forget her sense of humor.

I am not sure, but I think in a way she gave me some of her creativity. I am no where even close to her artistic ability, but I think I am somewhat creative with quilting and different ways.

For better or worse, she for sure gave me her stubbornness. She always thought she was right, and well, I am guilty of that too. She was passionate about her beliefs, and if she believed something was true, good luck trying to argue that with her. Haha, I feel bad for her husbands, and for mine.

She gave me her looks. Everyone has always commented about how we look alike, and what a gift that is now. I think she had more of the beauty and uniqueness that made her striking, but I know I resemble her in certain ways.

She used to love planning things, and wow was she good at it. I also love to plan things, but I am probably not quite as good at it as she was (maybe with time :)

She was passionate about her career in the same way that I am in mine. I could always hear her enthusiasm when she talked about what she did and I think people can sense that in me too.

She always lived with passion, she was accurately described as a "hopeless romantic". In some ways, I think I am too.

And the last thing, most important thing she showed me while she was alive, though I am not learning from it until now, is to follow your heart; be who you are and be comfortable with that; go after what you want no matter what people think; set goals and chase them; believe in yourself. That is kind of long, but I look at her life, she was always so confident, she knew who she was and you either loved her or hated her, and she didn't care which. She loved who she was and that was all that mattered. She always followed her heart no matter what that meant. She explored her passions, took photography classes, painting classes, went back to school after being a stay at home mom for 14 years, found a career she loved and did everything she could to learn more. She also left my dad because she was still in love with her first husband. It was an incredibly hard thing for her to do, it meant losing our house, divorce with 4 kids, and her whole family was completely unsupportive. But she said she loved him, and she couldn't go her entire life and ignore it. I respect her for that, it took a lot of courage. And then, before she died she had been talking about leaving him because of various problems they were having. I remember saying to her, "you know you will probably lose your house and everything..." and she said "what would you rather do, lose everything and be happy or keep everything and be miserable?" I feel like that is so profound and requires so much courage, something I'm not sure I have. I hope I can learn from how she lived and learn how to love who I am, and learn how to listen to my heart over everything else.

And, she taught me how to be a good mom. She was amazing at it. It gives me a great model and something to strive for.

My god Ellie, I miss her, you have me sobbing. That's all I can do for now. Thank you for making me do it though. :)

How I got here

I am starting a blog in response to a girl I can now call my friend, and who I have looked at as a mentor of sorts during these past difficult and painful months. Ellie started a blog called "Motherloss" (Can you tell I didn't know what to call mine?) to connect women who have lost thier moms, and to allow everyone to share their stories. Here is mine...

I am coming up on my 27th birthday next month, to be immediately followed 4 days later with the one year anniversary of my mom's death. Since I am a chronic over thinker, I have realized that my mom has not seen me since I was 25. Only a matter of days really, I saw her 3 days before I turned 26 on my daughter's birthday, and it ended up being the last time I ever saw her alive. It is strange to think of all the big days ahead this year, harder to believe that it has now almost been an entire year, and harder yet to believe I am still alive and surviving it. Perhaps I should back up.

Growing up, I remember how much I looked up to my mom. She was gorgeous, and she was the most organized, artistic, creative, funny and loving person I knew at the time. (and strangely, still is. I have no idea how she did it.) I have always been attached to her. My grandmother told me that when I was three my parents wanted a night out together, but that I stubbornly sat staring out the window and crying until she came back. I look at that now and think maybe it hasn't changed much, except that no matter how long I cry and stare out the window, she can't come back to me anymore. As I grew up, I had an older brother, and later two younger brothers. I remember wanting a sister so badly, I even wrote angrily to my brother Shane that he ruined my chance at a sister, haha. But as I grew up, I didn't need to have a sister, because my mother was like a sister to me and I doubt I would have wanted to share that kind of mother daughter bond with anyone else. My mom was great at making us feel special, making us feel like we were the favorite. She took a painting class with my brother, and she took a ceramics class with me. She would let me stay up late to watch our favorite show on t.v. every night (Law and Order) and I always felt included whether it was a big group of adults or just me and her. Even as a teenage girl, my rebellion was directed toward my dad instead of my mom (I have no idea why, my dad is and was a sweetheart and did not deserve my brattiness). I went off to college and came home for dinner and laundry fairly frequently, and we talked on the phone all the time. We even worked at the same place when I was in college so we shared a locker at work and brought each other lunch or left little notes for each other. When I decided to move to Rochester she was of course supportive, and it is only now when I look back at different cards she sent me do I see how often they say she misses me and is lonely without me around. I was busy moving forward with my life but we still talked everyday, sometimes for hours, sometimes more then once. We took a vacation one year just me, her and my grandmother. We had planned to do more of them but never got the chance. Basically, what I am saying is that she was so much more then a mother to me. She was the sister I never had, and the best friend I can never replace.

This past summer of 2009 was mostly cool and rainy during June and July. My mom came out to see me for Abby's 2nd birthday part on July 25th. We laughed and joked about how we were both fighting with our husbands (men!) but mostly I was so busy playing hostess I didn't get to spend too much time with her. It started raining around dinner time and the party died down fast but she came inside with my Dad and my Aunt and Uncle and the five of us stood in the kitchen, talking and laughing. God, I can remember what she was wearing and how beautiful her smile was, I can remember the exact spot she stood in. Then she had to leave, and I was annoyed that she was going so early so I didn't get up to give her a hug. I just assumed I would see her the next day. Well, I didn't get to see her the next day, and she ended up going back to Albany. We talked a on the phone during the week, but truthfully that week is blurry now. On Friday night, my brother Shane and his girlfriend Ericka came out to stay here, we were going to go to the Rennaissance Festival on saturday. They camped out in the backyard and my younger and older brother were here too, Mikie had been living in Rochester and James had stayed the week and planned to go home with Shane. Looking back I think about how odd it was that everyone stayed here at my house, how we were all together that morning.

The next morning started what I guess I can now call the beginning of a second part of my life. I feel like I have the life I had before she died, and the life after. I am two different people.
I won't get into all of the specifics, though I certainly could. They are crystal clear in my mind. The phone call, what was said, where I was standing, the looks on my brother's faces, my dad's voice when I called, the car ride, etc etc. Very long story made short, my mom died from a heart attack at age 47. I was, and still am, devastated.

For people who have lived with grief, I am sure you can relate to this, but the experience is so incredibly painful and so unique, that it is easy to quickly find yourself feeling very alone. It doesn't take long for the cards or phone calls to stop. It isn't hard to get angry with the people still here for not understanding. It doesn't take much before you feel uncomfortable talking to people about it, afraid that you are not doing it correctly, not conforming to the societal needs and expectations of losing someone and then moving on. I can honestly say I have had some of the darkest thoughts of my life in those months after losing my mom, and I can say that I am grateful for a few specific people who have perhaps at times saved me, or at least saved my sanity.

One of the things that has helped tremendously, and the reason I am writing this blog to begin with is the Motherloss group I found on Facebook. It gets to a point where you feel like people are silently screaming at you to get over it, to stop being so over dramatic, that it was only your mother anyway, and it is normal to lose our parents. Thankfully, those attitudes are non-existant in this group of women who have all in some way or another walked in each other's shoes. It has been an outlet for support and understanding that I am overwhelmingly thankful for.

Now, as I am 10 months out, all I can do is keep trying. Losing her has made me re evaluate, or maybe even evaulate for the first time who I am and what I want out of this life, and those are answers I am still working on.