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!!

Boston Heart Walk!! at OneTrueMedia.com

Make an on-line slide show at www.OneTrueMedia.com

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...