Back to School

Today was my first full day back in classes.  It's strange to try to figure out where I can fit now.  I am behind in reading and studying.  Everyone wants to give me hugs.  I'd rather be snuggling at home with my puppy.

I'm still in denial.  It hasn't hit me yet that my parents are both really gone.  I've been so busy with planning and catching up and making sure paperwork is in order that I haven't had time to process what has really happened.  I'm not sure there is a convenient time to lose someone but three weeks before midterms wasn't it.  

Kids around school complain the same complaints that I've said myself a thousand times - "nothing is worse..."

There are worse things than reading and midterms and working on a career.  Really, there are.  It's all relative.  

Things can get pretty depressing if you focus on all of that, though, so what I really want to put are three things that I am very thankful for today.  This will a) help me facilitate my denial and b) remind me that life goes on (which might also apply to (a)).

1.  My cousin has been here since Saturday.  

Although he wasn't able to make it in time to say goodbye to my mom, it has been amazing having my cousin here because I haven't had to be alone yet.  When he comes around I go into hyper-productive mode and get things done that I have wanted to do for a very long time.  I am always grateful when he is here because he is always looking on the bright side of things and is up for anything.

2.  My friends are the best ever.

My friends have been taking notes for me, bringing me food, giving lots of hugs, and basically being "on call" whenever I have needed them.  I seriously could not have created better friends if I had tried.  One friend even, somehow, ends up showing up whenever I have a big project going and she doesn't hesitate to jump right in.

3.  I was given tools to persevere.

My parents always taught me to finish what I start so even though I am SO overwhelmed with figuring out car titles, insurance, death certificates, school work, regular work, family time, grocery shopping, laundry, putting my house back together... I know I have to put my nose to the grindstone to get it all done and make sure it is done right.  Planning and scheduling are my new best friends.  

4.  Bonus thankfulness - My Mom's friends are wonderful!

I have received so much love and support from people who have known my mom far longer than I have been alive and for that, I cannot thank them enough.  

Mostly True Facts About My Mom

Facts about my mom.  They come in waves so someday this post will be complete...


Her favorite color was green.
Her eyes were so sparkling blue with a small dot of brown in her left eye.
She ran track in high school.  She was a sprinter, but terrible at distance running.
She broke her right foot both times she tried to ice skate.
She had her own bowling ball with her name on it.
Her favorite teacher was her fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Greenhoot.
She hated dresses as a child.
She was born in St. Louis, Missouri and spent a few years growing up with her grandparents in a small river town.
She was a Navy child, trekking across country with her four brothers, her parents, and their cat in a station wagon.
She was the middle child of five and the only girl.

Her biggest fear was frogs and toads.

She started going gray at 17 years old.

Last Memories

I am starting this entry because, as my last entry indicated, I am afraid of forgetting.  Everything special that happens with my mom I am going to post here because I want to remember it.  This post is for me so it might seem like I am posting minuscule things, but they are important to me.

On another note, after losing my dad about 5 years ago, I started keeping a journal of special memories and answers to questions I might want to know someday.  I can't tell you all how much this has helped me deal with the loss of my mom because I know that, even though I will not get to ask her all the questions I have later in life, I took the time to ask what I could think of when I had the chance.

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9/15 My mom raised her arm to try to scratch her nose.  I scratched it for her and asked if that was better.  She said, "That's better."  I then told her I loved her and though she didn't vocalize it, she mouthed, "love you."

9/16 She squeezed my hand while I was talking to her, blinked her eyes at me, and even opened them for a second.  She was trying to scratch her face again and mouthed, "thank you" when I did it.  Somehow I feel like she is more aware in these final days than she has been the past month.

9/16  She smiled when I told her we were taking her home.  She talked a little bit and most was indecipherable but I definitely heard, "cats" and "finally" and "thank you."

9/16  I went to go to class, got into the parking lot and turned around to come back to my mom.  I can miss out on having time to grieve but I can't miss out on having time to talk to my mom.  When I got back she smiled and grabbed my hand.  Then we scratched her itchy face a bit more.

9/16  We got my mom home, safe and sound.  We got her set up in bed and Theodore came and laid with her.  I got to see her smile and realize she was home.  She also told me she loves me.  I get to go to sleep tonight knowing she is just in the next room.

End of Days

My mother is beautiful.
We have had our moments and years of struggles but she is beautiful.  She has a smile that makes not only her own eyes sparkle but those around her, too.  She has a laugh that I ache to remember.

So much of this life is based on our senses and I am afraid of losing these sensory connections with my mom.

Sound.  Voice, laughter, snoring, meddling, nagging, loving.

I can't stop telling her that I love her because I want to make sure she knows and I want her to take that with her.  I keep telling her I am sorry that this has happened to her, I'm sorry I couldn't fix it, because I desperately want to.  I ask her to be my guardian angel when she leaves this body.  I remember laughing so many times in our kitchen but one time in particular I was so overcome with giggles and silliness that I lost track of what makes sense and exclaimed, "We have fun together, aren't we?!"  Doubled over in laughter, we made that our mantra when we were together.

Sight.  Smiles, tears, movements, dances, eyes, hair, body.

I keep looking at every detail of her face and hands.  I want to remember her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, the color of her hair.  Her unbraced, perfectly straight teeth.  Her strong and long fingernails which I did not inherit.  I want to remember the way her skin changes colors from the top of her hands to the bottom.  I want to see her to know that she is real.

Touch.  Hugs, kisses, hands, snuggles.

I keep hugging her and stroking her face and holding her hand.  I want her to know that I am here with her as much as I want to soak in as much skin memory as I can.  When her soul passes, her body will not be hers anymore, it will be a shell.  I don't want to remember the shell, I want to remember her.  I want to remember the way she makes her body move, the way she squeezes my hand, and the way she reacts when I touch her.

Smell.

Despite the hospital room and the clinical smell, Chanel No. 5 will always remind me of special occasions.  Pumpkin pie and M&M cookie dough will remind me of spending time in our kitchen.  The smell of her skin, I hope, will stay with me.

Taste.

I do not taste my mom.  I just don't.  That's weird.
I will, however, remember the taste of her meatloafs, mac & cheese, lasagna, and those pies and cookies.  I will remember my first taste of Rum and Coke when I was choking and it was the only thing around to help when I was about 8 years old.  I will remember that she liked her steak as well done as it could be.  I will remember that sourdough bread from San Francisco is her favorite taste, especially if you add a little crab.

Intuition.

Perhaps this isn't a real sense but I think it was for my mom.  She knew when I needed her and when I needed to do some growing up.  She knew I would not lie to her.  She knew when I would call her - usually when she was headed to the bathroom, to be honest.

My mom is beautiful, inside and out.  Every decision that she made, good and bad, made me who I am.  With every action to she took, she influenced my life and influenced my decisions.  She allowed me to learn from her mistakes and allowed me to make my own.

As I sit next to her now, I wonder if there was anything I could have done to change what happened.  Even though she can't speak I can hear voice, "This sucks, but what can you do?  Life is full of what ifs."

I guess you're right, mom.  Life is full of what ifs.  But the next step, I suppose, is what now?

"We'll have fun together, aren't we?"

Everyone keeps telling me to remember that when my mom acts out and behaves in ways she didn't used to

that it's the cancer, or the effects from the chemo, or anything else.

I can't believe that right now, though,

because that would mean she is already gone.