10 Things No One Tells You About Getting Engaged

Getting engaged is awesome, amazing, and wonderful when it's you and the person of your dreams focusing on spending the rest of your lives together.  Then there are the things that no one warns you about.  For those of you not engaged yet, WARNING:

1.  Prepare the date you are going to get married before you actually agree to get married.  I recommend this because if you tell someone 30 seconds after you got engaged that you got engaged, they will want to know when the wedding is, what your colors are, and whether there will be an open bar.

2.  For serial "yes" sayers like me, being engaged will either smother you into panic or teach you the "n" word.  Everyone wants to help, and that's awesome, but there are some moments that are going to be personal for me and I only want certain people involved.  Back off - because I don't want to feel guilty for not inviting you.  If you want to help, start a wedding fund or something.

3.  Everyone wants to know when you will start having children.  Hey, how about I get married first?  Also, I'm sorry, but did you just ask me when I am going to have sex?  Tomorrow, or never, mind your own business.

4.  Every conversation starts about being engaged, and this can get awkward.  I went to buy paper at a local office supply store that I have gone to for years.  The gal at the counter squealed when she saw my ring, asked about my fiancé, asked how it happened, asked about the wedding…blah blah blah.  Then she asked what I was getting and what I needed it for.  "I need nice paper to print programs for my mom's funeral."  "Oh my God I'm so sorry."  Mmmhmm.  Anything else you'd like to know about my life?

5.  If you are wearing an engagement ring, be prepared to be dragged around like your arm is a leash for a few weeks.  Seriously.  Do some shoulder work outs to be able to keep it raised for awhile because your hand no longer belongs to you.

6.  Get business cards with your engagement story printed on them.  This way, your story stays special and you remember the details.  After repeating it 500,000 times, it loses the glitz and glamour it had the first time you heard yourself say it.  For me, my engagement story is sweet, romantic, and really defines my fiancé and my relationship and I want to keep that special.  No - I am not really getting business cards printed, but I think it's okay to keep the memories between you and the people who matter.

7.  No matter how far off your wedding is, it feels like everything needs to be planned right now.  Advertisements on our clever computers, incessant questioning about what we are going to do, and my Type A personality make me want to get everything lined up and finished - even though my wedding is not for two and half years.

8.  Saying the "f" word for the first time is weird.  Not that "f" word.  Fiancé.  It took me a few days to even say it.  It's still sinking in.

9.  People treat you differently.  It's as if you have become an adult through this magical ring on your finger.  I'm still ME people!  I'm still immature and crazy!  I may know who I want to be with for the rest of my life but I did yesterday, too, otherwise I wouldn't have said yes.  Did you just not believe me before?

10.  Being engaged can be a stage in an of itself.  Dating then marriage doesn't have to be the way it is. I am still working on this (as I have only been engaged two weeks…) but why can't we slow down and just enjoy being engaged without worrying about a wedding and being married and having children?  I want to appreciate the fact that someone loves me enough to want to spend the rest of his life with me without jumping to that result.  I want to have fun being engaged and staying in love.  Sure, engagement is a transitional phase, but what's the rush?

Eulogy for My Mom

Dear God,

I wrote you once before about my Dad, about how I just wasn’t ready to let him go and how I just didn’t understand what had happened.  I’ve changed a lot in the last five years, God, and though I have no more answers, I have more peace.  Instead of begging you for more time or more understanding, I’d like to thank you for giving me the opportunity to know my mom in a truly unique way. 

I would like to share this with you. 

I want to explain how much I know that she is a survivor.  That sounds strange here, now, without her standing next to me, but she is a survivor in ways I think few people can claim to be. 

My mom grew up the only girl with four brothers.  Perhaps, Lord, this is where and how she learned to be such a survivor.  Because not only did you give her four brothers, you gave her four brothers in a navy family and put her smack dab in the middle.  And not only that, but these brothers are all complete opposites – and you gave her the skills and patience and understanding to love AND LIKE each one of them. And you made her strong enough to be a person each one of them could love in return.

Being in this navy family, she learned how survive meeting new people and having to leave them behind.  She survived and learned to keep looking forward to the next stage of life – the next adventure – not necessarily because she wanted to but because that is what she did, as a survivor.  You take what you are given and you move forward.  You move forward in whatever way you can until you convince yourself that that is what you wanted and that you are happy.  And then you are happy – because you survived the rough parts. 

And perhaps it is this survival instinct that taught her to never quit something you start and never give up on something you believe in. Through these characteristics I saw my mom agonize over things that she believed in.  I saw my mom pour her heart and soul into people, places, and things that she never wanted to give up on.  I saw her blind faith change lives and I saw it hurt her own life for the sake of others. Through this, Lord, my mom taught me balance.  How to survive and give of yourself all at once. 

Perhaps her final lesson was having to learn to survive through trusting other people.  She never had to doubt the accuracy of her mind – numbers, emotions, intuitions, advice giving, were always right on the money.  When the cancer started to take hold, she became scared and skeptical and sad.  To make it through each day she had to trust that she would be taken care of – that even though her own mind was not giving her the right answers, someone else might be able to give her those answers. 

When she had to do this, she really showed how much of a survivor she was because I am not sure she ever learned this lesson.  The lesson that came through to me was that she trusted herself and believed in herself and her own abilities above all else.  Even though this made it difficult sometimes to deal with her, it was incredible to see her push through every single limitation anyone tried to put on her. 

Before I’m done, Lord, I also want to tell her how sorry I am that I couldn’t fix her when the cancer took over.  I want to tell her how sorry I am that I wasn’t always patient with her trusting herself instead of trusting in me.  I want my mom to know that the reason I got so frustrated was because she taught me to trust myself in the same way she trusted herself.  I’m so sorry that I didn’t repay those skills to her when she needed me to.  I’m sorry that I didn’t show her that I trusted in her at the end.  I wanted to believe that her physical body still held the mom that I could debate with, laugh with, and trust with my own problems.  I still wanted my mom there, because as I saw her body there, I expected so much of that body.  When her body couldn’t live up to her spirit, my spirit did not live up to her own surviving faith in herself.   

Though she is not standing next to me now, I still call my mom a survivor because she survived losing hope of recovery – and Lord I know she survives still, with you.  I knew the moment she took her last breath that she became more alive than she had been in months – because I felt her strong spirit, unencumbered by a fragile body, finally at peace.  And because I knew her spirit survived and was at peace, she showed me once again that surviving isn’t just about the moment you think is the end, it’s about what you do after it’s all over.  Survival is about losing hope then remembering there is still something good.  Feeling my mom’s spirit surviving brings me peace because finally, she is with my dad – two souls that I now know are meant to survive together. Lord, I may be sad sometimes, but it is no longer sadness for my mom.  When I am sad, it is selfish sadness because I miss her being here next to me, in person.  Lord, I pray that you teach me to trust in her survival enough to know that she is always here with me – holding me and pushing me to survive as well as she does.

I can feel her surviving, God, and perhaps she is with you, now because you needed a survivor among your ranks.  She still survives here on earth, though, because she left so much of herself in every person she met, every person who loved her, and every person who will ever hear her story.  She survives as a part of each of us – in every decision we make to not give up, to keep fighting either for ourselves or for someone else.  Every time we decide to keep moving forward in our lives it will be because she gives us the strength to find the strength within ourselves.

I miss my mom, God, but I know that I, too, will survive, because she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Amen.

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.