At some point along in this unwanted journey I'm forced to take, I know that I have to sort through my mom's things and decide what to do with it all. She has a storage unit full of boxes and furniture and then of course all of her things that are still in her room in my basement. I have been avoiding this task and even used my husband's work-in-progress on the basement as an excuse as to why I can't get into her room yet. I don't want to face it and dive in....where do I even start?
Well, yesterday I made an attempt. Albeit a lackluster one, it was an attempt none the less. I ventured into mom's storage unit., or as I see it, her time capsule. I made Ben meet me there after work and took both kids with me because deep down I was hoping somehow they would be able to make this job pain free and distract me enough that it wouldn't phase me that I was routing through the last things left of mom. No such luck.
Opening that metal garage-style door to the storage unit was like opening the door to a time machine that sent me back 6years, 10years, 25 years ago. Lifting the tops to boxes and finding miniture clocks mom collected and all of her collectors plates that I made fun of for so may years was like someone sucking the air right out of my lungs- it took my breath away and I don't know that I've gotten it back yet. Her bed is right up front in the unit. A beautiful canopy bed with the four posts that other rails connect to at the top. I remember always thinking it was so tall and just big all around....yesterday it seemed smaller and not as royal as I once pictured it. In fact, all of mom's furniture seemed smaller to me. Her hope chest that used to be long enough for me to stretch completely out on is now just long enough to sit and prop my legs up on. The dinning room chairs that were so fancy and beyond heavy to me back in the day now were just pretty, almost dainty looking chairs sitiing there. The home that mom created for me that I lived in for 20+ years seemed so grand and colossal at the time. And I want it to stay that way for me, but it's not. All of those items that surrounded me seem so much less now that mom's gone. I can't imagine letting any of it go.
For whatever reason, I made the mistake of thinking I was strong enough to head into my basement and get into my mom's room. Her overstuffed recliner is still sitting there just how she left it when Todd had to take her to the er on Dec 3. Her Oil of Olay lotion on the shelves right next to it with the top only half on like she had a habit of leaving it. But what really broke me was seeing her shoe sitting there on the floor....her shoe....a stupid, old, dirty white shoe started the tears flowing. I hadn't even touched a thing yet and here I see a shoe and it just shatters me like baseball hitting a window. It was like I had just learned of my mother's passing in that moment for the first time all over again. God damn that shoe! How am I supposed to get through her things? How am I supposed to go through all of her stuff and make decisions to give some of it away when I can't even look at a stinky old Sketcher slip-on tennis shoe without completely falling apart?
I sat on the couch in mom's room to try and pull it together and I could still smell her perfume on some of her clothes sitting next to me. I didn't touch them or pick them up, but I could smell the soft warmth that was the scent of her perfume faintly coming from them. And that was all I could do.....just sit there. I stopped crying and just sat. Silence. Starring. And all of it starring right back at me. And once again, I felt the air being sucked right out of me and the sickening sense of helplessness overwhelmed me. I am no where near as strong as I hoped I would be. Right now, I'd give anything to have even an ounce of the courage my mom carried ....
*I miss helping you put on your shoes, mom. I love you.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
Pink Trees and Allergies
Finally a beautiful day- 82 degrees and the sun was shining bright. The signs of spring have been popping up all around: the grass is greener, daffodils are in bloom around all of the mail boxes, the slapping sounds of flip flops on every mom running errands, convertibles have the tops down and the radios up. The one sign here at home that I can alwasy count on is the "pink tree" blooming.
At the top of my driveway is a weeping cherry tree. When we first moved in, almost 6 years ago, my mom and I wondered what kind of tree it was and what it would look like in the spring (we moved-in in the middle of Nov so everything was dull and dying). That first spring we were mesmerized with the beautiful pink flowers that covered that once dull, dead looking tree. And every spring since, we (mom especially) would look forward to the weeks of pink beauty to sit and get lost in.
Today I noticed the tree is starting to bud it's pink beauty...and mom's not here this year to comment on it. "Look, it's almost Easter- the pink tree is starting to pop!". It went from being a sign I looked forward to, a symbol of new life and new beginnings, to a sign that only burns the reminder that change has come that I'm still not ok with and that a new life began in heaven leaving my life as I knew it forever different.
I sat out on my deck for a bit today after getting the kids off to school and ran through every memory I could of my mom and how she LOVED to spend time outside in the warm weather. I remembered her sweeping the deck religiously and telling me it felt almost theraputic to her to clear away the dead leaves or dried mud from footprints. I remembered her sitting in the rocking chair working on her word searches. I remembered mom suggesting a day at the park every morning she woke up and heard the temp was going to be 70 or above. I remembered mom standing under that pink tree starring out into the back yard that was decorated and filled with her friends and family surprising her at her Surprise 61st birthday party. And I remembered mom telling Ben that if he cut down the "pink tree" to lengthen our driveway, like he once considered, that he would end up regretting it...and she was right. That tree has a stronger meaning and importance to me now. It brings on a pain that I can't really put into words- but it's a pain that hurts good. Does that even make sense? So of course as I was sitting out there thinking, my eyes teared up which then lead my nose to run. And that, in turn, lead me to chuckle at yet another memory of my mom. She would tease me every year around this time because I would have to carry around tissues with me because of allergies that progressively got worse through the season. She laughed at the way I sneezed...said I sound like a mouse! And then would mimick me sniffleing. So was it my tears and runny nose today that came on from my memories & sadness? Or was it my allergies kicking in and enhancing the emotions? That is totally something that mom and I would laugh and joke about if she were here....
A very good friend of mine told me the other day that it seems like I am worrying too much about making sure everyone around me is ok and trying to convince them that I am ok. The last thing I want is to get emotional around people and make them uncomfortable. She told me that I need to stop worrying about what everyone else is thinking and let myself feel whatever it is I am feeling in that moment. She's got a good point. It is frustrating to try and push my greif aside and just tell people what I know they want to hear..."I'm good. I know mom's watching over me and that she's in my heart. I keep myself busy.". However, how do you tell someone that your heart feels broken every minute of every day, some more than others. How do you tell people that the distractions you can come up with throughout the day never seem to last long enough? It sounds a little rough to say "today sucks and I'm just in a shitty mood & can't stop crying over the most random things". So to say "I'm ok" just seems easier.
I almost wonder if this on-again-of-again warm weather is happening slowly as a way to ease me into spring. Maybe it's mom's way of saying "Hey Nik, I know this change of season this year is going to be especially rough on you, so I'm going to just spoon feed it to you so you can take your time with it". She would totally do that if she's got the power to. And that would explain why today was 82 and tomorrow is only supposed to be 57. But that's my mom for you- always looking out for her babies....
I love you mom! I'm missing you a lot today. Here's to the years we shared together of pink trees and allergies...
At the top of my driveway is a weeping cherry tree. When we first moved in, almost 6 years ago, my mom and I wondered what kind of tree it was and what it would look like in the spring (we moved-in in the middle of Nov so everything was dull and dying). That first spring we were mesmerized with the beautiful pink flowers that covered that once dull, dead looking tree. And every spring since, we (mom especially) would look forward to the weeks of pink beauty to sit and get lost in.
Today I noticed the tree is starting to bud it's pink beauty...and mom's not here this year to comment on it. "Look, it's almost Easter- the pink tree is starting to pop!". It went from being a sign I looked forward to, a symbol of new life and new beginnings, to a sign that only burns the reminder that change has come that I'm still not ok with and that a new life began in heaven leaving my life as I knew it forever different.
I sat out on my deck for a bit today after getting the kids off to school and ran through every memory I could of my mom and how she LOVED to spend time outside in the warm weather. I remembered her sweeping the deck religiously and telling me it felt almost theraputic to her to clear away the dead leaves or dried mud from footprints. I remembered her sitting in the rocking chair working on her word searches. I remembered mom suggesting a day at the park every morning she woke up and heard the temp was going to be 70 or above. I remembered mom standing under that pink tree starring out into the back yard that was decorated and filled with her friends and family surprising her at her Surprise 61st birthday party. And I remembered mom telling Ben that if he cut down the "pink tree" to lengthen our driveway, like he once considered, that he would end up regretting it...and she was right. That tree has a stronger meaning and importance to me now. It brings on a pain that I can't really put into words- but it's a pain that hurts good. Does that even make sense?A very good friend of mine told me the other day that it seems like I am worrying too much about making sure everyone around me is ok and trying to convince them that I am ok. The last thing I want is to get emotional around people and make them uncomfortable. She told me that I need to stop worrying about what everyone else is thinking and let myself feel whatever it is I am feeling in that moment. She's got a good point. It is frustrating to try and push my greif aside and just tell people what I know they want to hear..."I'm good. I know mom's watching over me and that she's in my heart. I keep myself busy.". However, how do you tell someone that your heart feels broken every minute of every day, some more than others. How do you tell people that the distractions you can come up with throughout the day never seem to last long enough? It sounds a little rough to say "today sucks and I'm just in a shitty mood & can't stop crying over the most random things". So to say "I'm ok" just seems easier.
I almost wonder if this on-again-of-again warm weather is happening slowly as a way to ease me into spring. Maybe it's mom's way of saying "Hey Nik, I know this change of season this year is going to be especially rough on you, so I'm going to just spoon feed it to you so you can take your time with it". She would totally do that if she's got the power to. And that would explain why today was 82 and tomorrow is only supposed to be 57. But that's my mom for you- always looking out for her babies....
I love you mom! I'm missing you a lot today. Here's to the years we shared together of pink trees and allergies...
Friday, April 1, 2011
Simple is something to get used to.
I was driving home from dropping Brooke off at school yesterday and was thinking that I really don't have anything crazy going on in life right now- nothing "exciting". I used to wish for such a time...and now I'm wondering if that desired "quiet time" is a good thing or a bad thing.
For the first time in 4 years, life seems just simple, No worrying about fandom high fevers that result in a trip to the ER, no making sure medicines are taken at the same time every day-some with food, some without. I don't have anymore late nights of changing tubes, bags or bandages. No worrying over Ct scans and PETscan results and whether they are going to show new tumor growth, no more all day stays at chemo. No more trying to figure out how to get my kids plus stay at the hospital to answer questions about mom & to talk try and catch a dr to answer questions that I have. - no longer have those major worries- it's all "simple" now. Simple can be a blessing, especially if you feel that you are juggling so many different issues in life that it seems like you aren't focused 100% on anything. But it can also be scary if you're not used to it. I mean, it IS nice to not have a major worry for once, however I'm not sure I know how to handle a "smooth ride" without creating more fear in myself that any minute now something awful is going to happen...again. It's a whole new way of thinking and living that I am really trying to train myself to be comfortable with. It's a process.
In the past year, I have lost 4 people that have held some form of true value in my life...
1) My Grandmother passed away Feb 26 last year. We knew it was coming, we knew it was a blessing for her to finally have all of her suffering and fears to be gone, but she was my grandma- the only grandma I ever really had any relationship with and can say was involved in my life. And I saw the pain that her passing brought to my mom...pain I never wanted to experience, but knew one day I would.
2) This past January A very close and dear friend of mine lost her husband in his sleep. Rick was an incredibly giving man that never thought twice about helping my family in any way he could. He was a photographer and brought all of his equipment and backdrops to my house during Christmas last year to take family photos of my mom and all of us because she was too weak to go out to him. He did that without ever thinking anything other than we NEEDED to have such valuable shots with my mom. HE knew that one day they would be all we had of her to physically lay our eyes on and remember her beautiful smile and loving eyes. Those photos are twice as precious to me now....I love you Rick for taking them!
3) Feb 2, 2011 I held my mom's hand and witnessed her last breath. I kissed her forehead for the very last time that day. I lost her smile, her voice, her hugs, our giggles, our chats, or fights and our routines. But I still have her memory, her lessons she taught me and her love. I feel the pain that she felt when my grandma died. That sting that comes with every glance of an object that belonged to her, that unwanted sense of quietness that fills the house even when my kids are screaming, and that ache that overwhelms me when I know that I can't change her being gone. It really is so overwhelming at times.
4) Exactly 2weeks to the day of losing my mom, my brother called me to tell me that a good high school friend of ours died early that morning. Chris and I had a friendship that was different and special. I met him when I was in 8th grade and remained close all through high school. We shared many memories together. He was my high school crush before I found my life long love in Ben, and was my jr prom date in his Marine blues. He was a big part of my teen life and was one of my core group of friends that I could always turn to for anything. Chris taught me alot about myself and what I deserved in a relationship- and I don't think he ever knew he did that. It is his death that has brought those few special people that I was closest to in high school back into my life and I hate that he is not here to reminisce with us all. The "group" will forever be different without him.
That is alot of loss to take in and have to accept in under 365 days. A lot of grief that has been piled on to work through and sort out. No rest in between to come to grips with the new reality that is now before the next smack comes along and knocks you down again. It makes you nervous to fully stand back up and even try to steady yourself....I don't want to be knocked down anymore.
There is one comfort that I find sends a sense of calm in to my thoughts...my belief in Heaven. I know that all of those beautiful souls of my family and friends that I love and cared about are experiencing pure bliss and complete happiness in Heaven. They are not missing me or anyone....they feel no pain, sadness or sorrow. I know that God has them safe...no doubt in my mind that God has them. I pray that they can feel all of the love that remains here on earth in my heart for them. I know that they are celebrating and living the "simple" lives that were waiting for them in Heaven. I'm trying to learn to do the same as best as I can here on earth. Simple will sit fine with me....someday.
For the first time in 4 years, life seems just simple, No worrying about fandom high fevers that result in a trip to the ER, no making sure medicines are taken at the same time every day-some with food, some without. I don't have anymore late nights of changing tubes, bags or bandages. No worrying over Ct scans and PETscan results and whether they are going to show new tumor growth, no more all day stays at chemo. No more trying to figure out how to get my kids plus stay at the hospital to answer questions about mom & to talk try and catch a dr to answer questions that I have. - no longer have those major worries- it's all "simple" now. Simple can be a blessing, especially if you feel that you are juggling so many different issues in life that it seems like you aren't focused 100% on anything. But it can also be scary if you're not used to it. I mean, it IS nice to not have a major worry for once, however I'm not sure I know how to handle a "smooth ride" without creating more fear in myself that any minute now something awful is going to happen...again. It's a whole new way of thinking and living that I am really trying to train myself to be comfortable with. It's a process.
In the past year, I have lost 4 people that have held some form of true value in my life...
1) My Grandmother passed away Feb 26 last year. We knew it was coming, we knew it was a blessing for her to finally have all of her suffering and fears to be gone, but she was my grandma- the only grandma I ever really had any relationship with and can say was involved in my life. And I saw the pain that her passing brought to my mom...pain I never wanted to experience, but knew one day I would.
2) This past January A very close and dear friend of mine lost her husband in his sleep. Rick was an incredibly giving man that never thought twice about helping my family in any way he could. He was a photographer and brought all of his equipment and backdrops to my house during Christmas last year to take family photos of my mom and all of us because she was too weak to go out to him. He did that without ever thinking anything other than we NEEDED to have such valuable shots with my mom. HE knew that one day they would be all we had of her to physically lay our eyes on and remember her beautiful smile and loving eyes. Those photos are twice as precious to me now....I love you Rick for taking them!
3) Feb 2, 2011 I held my mom's hand and witnessed her last breath. I kissed her forehead for the very last time that day. I lost her smile, her voice, her hugs, our giggles, our chats, or fights and our routines. But I still have her memory, her lessons she taught me and her love. I feel the pain that she felt when my grandma died. That sting that comes with every glance of an object that belonged to her, that unwanted sense of quietness that fills the house even when my kids are screaming, and that ache that overwhelms me when I know that I can't change her being gone. It really is so overwhelming at times.
4) Exactly 2weeks to the day of losing my mom, my brother called me to tell me that a good high school friend of ours died early that morning. Chris and I had a friendship that was different and special. I met him when I was in 8th grade and remained close all through high school. We shared many memories together. He was my high school crush before I found my life long love in Ben, and was my jr prom date in his Marine blues. He was a big part of my teen life and was one of my core group of friends that I could always turn to for anything. Chris taught me alot about myself and what I deserved in a relationship- and I don't think he ever knew he did that. It is his death that has brought those few special people that I was closest to in high school back into my life and I hate that he is not here to reminisce with us all. The "group" will forever be different without him.
That is alot of loss to take in and have to accept in under 365 days. A lot of grief that has been piled on to work through and sort out. No rest in between to come to grips with the new reality that is now before the next smack comes along and knocks you down again. It makes you nervous to fully stand back up and even try to steady yourself....I don't want to be knocked down anymore.
There is one comfort that I find sends a sense of calm in to my thoughts...my belief in Heaven. I know that all of those beautiful souls of my family and friends that I love and cared about are experiencing pure bliss and complete happiness in Heaven. They are not missing me or anyone....they feel no pain, sadness or sorrow. I know that God has them safe...no doubt in my mind that God has them. I pray that they can feel all of the love that remains here on earth in my heart for them. I know that they are celebrating and living the "simple" lives that were waiting for them in Heaven. I'm trying to learn to do the same as best as I can here on earth. Simple will sit fine with me....someday.
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