Dear mom,

If you were here, I would have so much to call and tell you. I would tell you about the boys getting good grades for the year (although Chris got one B, which sent him spiraling into depression, as you can imagine).  I would talk about how excited they are for summer, how cute Luke looks at Jones Valley practice, grinning the whole time.

You may have gone to Luke's games this week, but if you hadn't, I would tell you that he had a home run, a triple and a single in one game.  And that the coach bragged on him for swimming and bet his teammates $100 that none of them could beat him in a race at the pool party we had Friday (no one did).

I'd tell you about how Chris came home telling me he has a girlfriend now.  And talked to you about how sad that makes me because he is growing up so fast.  And I would tell you all his stories about her, and how they had to "fake breakup" because of all the teasing from the other kids.  And we would have laughed at the silliness of ten year olds.

I would talk to you about Drew, and how well his potty training is going.  And how sweet he has been. About how much fun he has "helping" me buying and planting flowers.  I probably would have sent you this picture of him snuggling with his dad.

I would have asked you over for a cook out probably, and shown you my finished flower beds.  I've never had nice flower beds before, I've always been afraid of gardening, but I'm giving it a whirl.  I think the rosebushes are going to have trouble where I planted them, I didn't realize just how shady that area is.  Oh well, you live and learn.

  

I'd have asked if you minded babysitting the kids this Sunday night, so Jimmy and I could go out to dinner for a much needed date night.  The boys would have been thrilled to spend an evening with Gammy.

But I can't tell you any of this.  I hope you know it all already.  I hope you see us down here, moving along with our lives.  Being happy, playing, working and loving.  All the while, missing you.

Conversations with Drew

It's just me and my littlest buddy this weekend.  And it is nice to have some one on one time with him.  He has turned into quite the little man, he is so sweet and funny.  We have played spiderman and fought monsters and pooped in underwear (him, not me).

We have gardened in the rain and gotten muddy and thrown dirt at each other. 

My favorite part though are the conversations we have.

M: Drew, you need to use good manners

D: I do has good manners!

M: You do?

D: Yes. I has good manners tuz I not spit at you or bite you or scream at you.  And I says "thank you" and "sowwy"

M:  You are sweet

D: Yes, I am

M: Am I sweet?

D: No! Yous a girl.

M: Girls aren't sweet?

D:  No.  Girls are hers.  And boys are sweet.  So I is sweet and daddy and chris and luke.  But not you.  

And last night, when it was time for bed, he asked to sleep with me and I said yes.  And then he woke me up, he always smiles at me, I wish I could get a picture of it because it's a special smile and I want to remember it forever.

But I don't have a picture, so I'll have to use this one instead

Hope you all are having a fantastic weekend!

Life...back to normal?

This week I am getting up with my kids every morning, getting them ready for school, dropping everyone off where they are supposed to go and going to work.  I do my job, I laugh, smile, have fun with my employees, chat with customers.  I come home and do the dishes, laundry, clean up, feed my family, pick kids up from various places, and I'm here when they go to bed.  I sleep in my own bed at night, and start it all over again in the morning.


Life, is back to normal.

Except, there's this emptiness that wasn't there before.  I feel like I'm not doing something that I need to be doing.  I don't have to get to my mom's house.  I don't have to pick up her medicine, or bring her breakfast, or make her coffee.  She doesn't need me to help her go to the bathroom or to call the nurse or to just sit with her.  She's gone, and that crazy whirlwind couple of months is over.

And so I just go through the motions, pretending like everything is like it was.  Only it hits me at random times.  My mom is dead.  She is gone, and I will never talk to her again.  I will never have her to call for advice.  I will never have her to go to dinner with or to call and brag about my boys to.  I will never have a relationship with anyone like that again.

It hits me at strange times.  At Cici's pizza with the boys, because she liked to eat there and would always meet us. And she'd always pay and then mention what a good deal it was and how we couldn't eat that cheaply anywhere else.  When I pick up my phone automatically to text her about Drew (finally) doing so well at potty training before I remember.  When I turn on the tv and one of the shows she watched is on.  When I go out to dinner with everyone to celebrate my sister's birthday, and she's not there.

She's the first thing on my mind every morning, and the last thought before I fall asleep at night.  I don't know how to get up every morning knowing that she is gone.  But I do.  And I will.  And I'll just go through each day, like it's a normal day.  Until one day it is.

The end...

My mom called and told me she had cancer on Feb 20th of this year.  She died yesterday, May 7th.  A little over two months from start to finish.

Those two months were, without a doubt, the two hardest months of my life.  The worry.  The tears.  The stress. Tests to find out what type of cancer, then more tests because they weren't sure.  The diagnosis of a rare stage IV cancer.  The hope that chemo would help.  The hospital visit for an "infection".  The fear when there was no infection, it was simply the cancer growing.  The dr telling us it was "the most aggressive breast cancer he'd seen in his thirty years of medicine".  Her going home and her slow decline to needing around the clock care.  Trying to get her to take medicines she didn't want to take.  Trying to explain things to her that she didn't understand.  Helping her do the most basic things in life- go to the bathroom, eat, drink, clean herself.  Making meals I knew she wouldn't eat, tea she wouldn't drink.  Very little sleep.  Too much drive thru food and caffeine.

There were moments of joy though.  When I made her laugh telling her a funny work story.   Towards the end, when she was more and more confused, and she had a moment when she looked at me and thanked me.  Thanked me for putting my life on hold for her.  A beautiful smile the day before she died, when she woke up briefly and said she wasn't in pain anymore.  Her taking a break from all her pain to yell at me for missing so much work, afraid I'd need the money. Loved knowing that my mom was in there somewhere.

I learned a lot as well.  I learned that I am capable of more than I thought.  That I have an amazing support system.  Friends, acquaintances, family and coworkers.  All helping, praying, showing their love.  People have stepped out of the woodwork to help us.  That my husband is a rock star and my boss is amazing.  My sister is wonderful.  Those I knew already, but this only reinforced it.  She has been my support, my rock and I couldn't have made it through this without her.

The night before my mom passed, the nurse had told us it would be soon.  She was finally sleeping after days of restlessness and anxiety.  That night I went to sleep and slept the best sleep I had slept in weeks.  I normally wake to check on her, or she wakes me up, or I just can't sleep.  Not that night.  I slept straight through until about 5:15 in the morning.  I went in to check on my mom and noticed her breathing had changed.  I sat with her for a minute but then I needed to run to the restroom.  I came back and she was gone.  I have no regrets that I wasn't there.  I am sure she would have wanted me to miss it.  

I have often wondered why my mother would be taken from me at such a young age, she was only 49.  I have been angry about it.  I have yelled and cried and cursed about it.  And then I thought about how everyone is here for a purpose and that when they have finished God calls them home.  And how thankful I am that my mom had me so young (17) so that I had 32 years with her.  Her job is done on this earth.  And I may not understand it, but it isn't for me to understand.  I am so thankful for her, for everything.  I am even thankful for the past two months because of what I have learned and the blessings I have realized I've always had.

I love you mom, I will think of you and miss you everyday.  Enjoy heaven, I'll see you there soon.

Isaiah 55: 8-9

8 “My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord. “And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine.

9 For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.

We leave this world the way we came in it...

Or so they say.  I'm starting to believe it's true.  At least, caring for someone who is dying is very similar to having a baby.

There's the obsessing over each new symptom and what it might mean.  Looking up that symptom to see how much longer death/birth will be.  Reading other people's experiences to compare.   Asking the dr/nurse how much longer he thinks it will be.  Ready for it and terrified about it at the same time.

Then there's the exhaustion.  The physically draining part of this that reminds me so much of having a newborn.  A fussy newborn who never sleeps.  Spending so long trying to get them to sleep.  Waiting for them to get into a deep sleep before leaving the room.  The frustration when they wake up ten minutes later.

The inability to sleep when they are sleeping, because you've tried so many times to sleep only to have them wake you up.

Watching them sleep to see if they are still breathing.

Loving them, feeling helpless and wondering if you are doing the right things.  Constant prayer and worry.

Nearing the end...

I don't know what to think or feel right now.  My mom is quite possibly in the last days of her life.  She hasn't been eating.  She rarely drinks.  She is very confused.  She is picking at her skin and bed linens.  The tip of her nose turned purple for awhile yesterday, and her heartbeat was irregular.  All of this things are on the list of things that happen in the "Gone from my sight" pamphlet that hospice provided us with.

So my sister and I are here together instead of taking turns.  And it's hard.  Mom is confused, but she knows that she is confused.  She knows that what she says doesn't make any sense.  And she is frustrated about it.  And constantly apologizing for it.  I reminded her of all the silly things other family members have done near the end.  She smiled a little at the thought of Uncle Gordon sitting in his recliner and "fishing".  Maybe it made her feel better for a second.  I don't know.

I am afraid of so much right now.  Afraid of the moment when it happens.  Afraid of after it happens and everything I will be responsible for.  So many things running through my head.  Where will her funeral be?  Who will speak at her funeral? How will I handle all of this?  I'm 32 years old but the thought of life without my mother makes me feel like a child.

Anger

I have been up most of the night with my mom.  Her kidneys seem to be failing.  Her lower back is hurting and she is unable to use the bathroom.

One more thing for her to go through.  One more thing to cause her pain.

I'm on a roller coaster of emotions, and today's emotion is anger.  I don't understand why she has to hurt so much.  Why this has to be so torturous.  Dying is one thing... does it have to be so awful?  I'm angry and tired and worried and nervous.  But mostly today I am angry.  Angry that I have been praying for her for months and nothing I have prayed for, nothing anyone has prayed for has happened.  Is anyone listening??  What's the point of praying until I fall asleep every night?  What is the point of having everyone pray for her?


I get it.  I'm not privy to God's reasons, his decisions are not for me to understand.  I know, in my heart that God is good and he loves my mother.  But I have days like this where I doubt him.  Where I am so angry at him.  And I pray about it.  Even though I feel like he isn't listening, I still pray.  It's the only thing I can do.