A Long Summer . . .

Today is the first official day of my summer vacation, and normally I would be ecstatic, but oddly enough, I am dreading it . . . I haven't posted in a long time because quite honestly, I feel so lost. I am having a difficult time coming to terms with my mother's death.  This isn't how I thought my life would turn out.  In the back of my mind, I always knew she would probably go before me, but I always thought it was light years from whenever I thought about it.  If I had only known that it was going to be so soon, I would have done thing so differently.  But then again, wouldn't we all?

There is no way to prepare for death.  It just happens.  I don't mean to minimize life, but it just seems so cut and dry sometimes.  Then you start thinking about why are you on this earth and what is your role.  You wish you can have the kind of life that you are supposed to have, but sadly this only happens rarely.

If life is just a series of lessons (and I feel it is), and we evolve into the person we are supposed to be with each lesson, then my mother's death is supposed to teach me something.  Right now, unfortunately, I'm feeling pretty sorry for myself.  I loved her so much (wish I had showed her more) and I know she loved me unconditionally (even when I wasn't the perfect daughter) and now I feel a huge void in my life.  It is selfish to wish that she was still here . . . she was so broken by the time of her death . . . not the woman who moved us to SC in 1975 with everything we owned packed into an Oldsmobile, driving down I-95 searching for a better life.

She changed her life dramatically, so that we could have a better one, so I need to find myself.  The "me" she would want me to be.  The "me" who will continue to make her proud.  The "me" my girls and my grandson can look up to,and one day look back after I'm gone and say she used everything God gave her.  Maybe I need to drive on the I-95 of my life . . .

Within Me

Standing in your sunlight

Soaking up your rays

I watch the light surround you

Igniting all my days

I’d love to be the fire

That sets your world ablaze

Darkness tried to steal you

While confusion taunted your soul.

I want to be the brilliance

That makes the broken whole

Life can be so transient

So fleeting and surreal

But now that you are near me

Slowly we both heal.

Step into the sunlight

And breathe in deep and pure

Let the love that burns within me

Give you reason to endure.

So soak up all the love

That radiates from my heart

And we’ll never be alone

Though we’re miles and miles apart.

February Storm

It's February - my mom's favorite month of the year.  She loved everything about it - the horoscope sign of Pisces, the royal purple of its birthstone amethyst, the candy and flowers of Valentine's Day, the almost-chance of snow some years, and most of all, her birthday.  February 24th, 2012, would have been my mom's 70th birthday.  As the day approached, I became increasingly anxious and fearful.  What could I do to honor her?  How would I make it through the day?  And, what would that day, February 24th, feel like without her gone from my world?  Would I be able to weather life's storms?

The day came . . . it was a downcast day.  I knew it would be melancholy and fragile, mirroring my frame of mind.  I didn't work that day . . . didn't think I could navigate the day at school with students and bells and paperwork and lunch duty.  Visions of me crumpled on the floor like the ashes of an extinguished fire filled me with panic.  Yet somehow, I knew I could survive if I just did things that would make me happy.  I met a friend for coffee at Starbucks, a good friend whom I had not seen in a long while, and surprisingly we picked up as if not one second had passed.

Later I met my daughter Kristen for an early lunch, having just finished a late breakfast of oatmeal and a Venti Blonde at Starbucks.  Kristen soon left, and again that feeling of uneasiness returned, as I was alone with my thought.  I decided to go to Dollar General to buy something, anything, just to occupy my mind, as loneliness was the ghost I feared.

While in the car, I had heard a violent storm was on its way at 75 miles per hour towards somewhere around our area, and it was packing 60 mile-an-hour winds, but I wasn't alarmed because it was not supposed to hit us directly.  In the store, I meandered through the aisles, looking for something to buy.  Picking up and putting down things randomly, I suddenly grew aware of a steady pounding sound.  Sirens seemed to blaring outside.  I made my way to the front of the store, and the doors of store, completely made of glass, as well as large plate glass windows, rattled and wavered with the onslaught of the wind, the piercing sound I had heard.

I assessed the situation quickly as the lights flickered on and off.  Where would I go?  Standing in front of glass doors and a wall of windows did not seem to be the best option.  I began surveying the store looking for  shelter.  As I sat on a carton of detergent boxes in the back of the store, I saw the sign "Women."  That's where I should be - a bathroom.  I surmised that taking cover under the sink would be the most logical plan.

Wait!  It was my mom's 70th birthday . . . she was my guardian angel.  "Mom, I'm scared."  Am I really going to be caught in the wreckage of a tornado as it brings down the Dollar General?  "Please, Mom, ask God to keep us all safe.  Please stop this storm.  It's your birthday, so surely this can't be happening to me?"

As quickly as it started, it ceased.  The sound of nothing felt so good as I realized the rain stopped and the wind died.  I was okay, and my life would not end at the Dollar General on my mom's 70th birthday.  I weathered the storm and will weather the storms.

My World Without You

Today was a gloomy day.  I think I've been in denial about my mother being gone.  It's like I have tucked her away in a small compartment and rather have chosen to just believe I haven't seen her in a while.  There are so many things that scare me when I think about how I will deal without her in my life . . . my future, my own children, my grandchild, just about everything.  She was always my rock . . . and somehow I falsely believed she would always be there.  And as long as she was on this planet, I had a buffer zone . . . a safe haven.  But now my world feels so incredibly large and blank . . . I am not saying I'm not blessed for I truly am, but I feel lonely now.  I am drifting from day to day with my good days, my okay days, and my just plain sad days.  So many days I want to just pick up the phone and call her and then I have to steel myself when I realize I can't.  Don't think I haven't tried . . . but when I dial her number, I get the following, "The number you have reached has been changed or is no longer in service."  No longer in service . . .

Me and Belle

I was dreading going back to school today, but I attempted to put on a brave face because that's what grown-ups do, right?  As I was heading out the door, I noticed a horrible smell.  I looked over and saw my poor little Taco lying in his own "sickness."  Just laying there, helpless.  I had to go to work, and I just couldn't handle it.  I called for David, and he came downstairs to take care of Taco.  

Later in the day, I got a call from David, which I missed because I still had students.  When I could, I texted him back to ask about Taco.  David replied, "He's gone."  I dialed David's number and he picked up.  I could tell he had been crying.  He told me about how the vet said Taco was one sick little dog, and of course, they both made the decision to put him to sleep.  The vet asked David if he wanted to be in there.  Well, no one wants to see an animal die, but if you have a dog or a cat who has become a part of your family, there is no hesitation.  Out of love, you hold that pet and stroke its head or cuddle its body while his life slowly ebbs away.  David did that for Taco today and for me.

Now Belle (Taco's other half - Taco & Belle - get it?) and I are grieving together.  She is tinier than Taco, and right now she seems so frail.  Taco and Belle were two halves of a whole.  Wherever you saw Taco, Belle wasn't far away.  So Belle is grieving along with me.  We have lost our best friends.  The only solace I take is knowing Taco is not sick anymore, and he is a young pup in Heaven.  I smile when I think he is there to take care of my mom, the faithful lapdog that he was.

It might seem strange or even silly to some people that a human can get so attached to a dog or a cat or a bird or any other type of pet, but I believe God places animals in our lives to teach us about ourselves.  Taco taught me about aspects of myself that I didn't know existed because before I had him, I'd never had a house dog.  He brought me comfort, happiness, and laughter.  I will miss his furry little body perched in my lap, under the covers while I read or search the internet or watch TV.    

My mom was a huge animal lover also.  She had three pets when she died - Andy (a rescue dog), Lulu (her 60th birthday present), and Dude (a slightly offbeat cat).  As she had no children in her house, her pets became her children.  She even cooked for them and hand-fed them.  It's strange because the last week of her life, I was driving by her house on the way to the nursing home, and I asked her if she wanted me to stop by her house to see Andy and Lulu and Dude.  Sadly, she said no because it would be to hard.  If only we had known . . .

So Belle and I will grieve together, and oddly enough, we will go through this healing process together.  Yes, God places animals in our lives for a purpose.  He knew.

Time stops for no one

After 21 days, I am going back to work tomorrow.  I have mixed emotions - I'm scared and sad and tired and weak, yet I am also optimistic and hopeful that going back to a routine will begin the healing process.  It's good to have order in your life, and the last three weeks (well really the last four months) have been like trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle with pieces missing.

I told my husband yesterday that I don't even feel like teaching anymore.  He was pretty shocked to hear me say that, and then he said, "Is that how your mother would want you to feel?"  I wanted to cry for being so miserable and pitiful.  She was so very proud of me . . . I'm the only one in my family who graduated from college - Bachelor's and Master's degrees.  Was she proud of me?  Yes!!  She used to talk about being at my first graduation with Kristen on her knee (Kristen was not even two), and then she was there for the second one (Master's) in May of 2008.  She didn't like crowds and surely didn't like all the stairs she had to climb in the Civic Center, but she was there.  Both times she saw me walk across that stage and clutch that diploma.  For that I will be forever thankful.

I do regret that she never got to see me in action as a teacher.  She never even came to my classroom . . . I don't know why, but it never worked out.  But she knew what my days were like . . . I filled her ear with everything that happened . . . I usually called her in the car on the way home from work as that was the only alone time I had.  If I ever missed those phone calls, she would call me and say, "You didn't call me."

So tomorrow as I drive home from work, there will be no phone call.  The silence will be heartbreaking and the feeling will be stifling.  As much as I will want to pick up that phone and dial 645-2522, I can't . . . not ever again.  I see her number as a favorite in my contacts . . . 645-2522 . . . I am starting to forget the sound of her voice . . . yes, I have deleted all the voice mails I've had from her, never thinking she would leave me, and the last text message I have from her asks me to call her because she is so worried that she hadn't heard back from the nursing home.  She was only at the nursing home for four days . . .

Going back to school tomorrow will be one of the most difficult days of my life because it is also a reminder that life goes on.  No matter how much you are hurting or suffering, time continues, people keep living, and the world keeps spinning . . . it stops for no one . . . me included.

I may not be able to call my mom, but I will be talking to her every day on my way home . . . I hope she hears me.

The Dress

So 2011 is officially gone . . . hallelujah!  2011 was my test and so far, I probably have a C-.  It's been a difficult year.  Not really complaining, but difficult things far outweighed the good ones.  I won't go into all of them because those of you who know me just know.

Last night was New Year's Eve, and everyone was festive.  Everyone but me.  We spent the time at a dear friend's house, and believe me, they are some of the best friends a girl could have, but without my mom, nothing feels right.

I just couldn't get myself in the festive mood.  Maybe if I had gotten dressed up and gone out to a fabulous party with dancing and crowds and music and champagne, there might have been a slight chance I could have gotten lost in it.  I could have even worn "the dress."

Let me tell you about the "the dress."  This dress a links my mom, me, and my daughters.  Do you remember flapper dresses?  Well, I don't think anyone actually was around when they were popular, or if you were, you probably don't know how to use a computer (sorry ... just trying to make myself chuckle a little).  Well, in my closet hangs a black flapper mini-dress.  It was made in the 1960's and doesn't even have a real size - I think it is Size B, whatever that means.  It is a simple black dress with layers and layers of black fringe and bands glittering black sequins and spaghetti sequin straps.  Putting it on makes you feel quite sexy or flirty or whimsical, just plain happy.  You want to twirl and dance to Chubby Checker's "The Twist" or shimmy to "The Charleston."  It makes you feel like a Dr. Suess character or a Tim Burton siren!

So what is special about this dress?  My mom and I had lots of talks about "the dress."  She said she wore it to a Halloween party one year in the 1960's, and to top it off, my dad was Dracula (bet that was one crazy shindig!).  What amazes me is that my mom ever fit into that dress.  She has always been overweight, but I cannot even remember her ever being that size.  Heck, I don't even know if I can fit into the dress anymore, but I'm gonna try (I'll try to post a picture if I can squeeze myself into it!).  I bet my mom was gorgeous that night!  She always dyed her hair Elvis-black back in the day, and she wore cat-rimmed glasses with faux diamonds, dark thick eyeliner, and the fire-engine red lipstick.  I'm pretty sure she was wearing black patent leather high-heels, too, when she went to that party.  Oh, if I could just see a snapshot of that long-ago magical moment . . .

I've worn the dress to a Halloween party, too (on a few occasions when I could stuff myself into it).  I, too, wore high heels and black fishnet stockings and even a sequined band around my head with a few feathers and strands of sparkling beads hanging low!  For a moment, I felt my mom and the fun she had when she wore that dress.

Meghann has worn the dress for Halloween.  I have pictures somewhere, and I plan to scan and post them.  She was a natural in that dress - always hamming it up for the camera.  Exaggerated makeup, cute bob, and those pouty brown eyes . . . she looked liked she had jumped out of another era.  She was only about 10 when she wore it, so she will have to don the dress as an adult for some special occasion!

I don't think Kristen has worn the dress to a Halloween party yet, but we owe it to my mom that she does.  Kristen would look stunning in it because of her height and her flair for fashion.  She might even wear some of the dangling earrings that my mom loved to hang from her ears!  Blingy and glitzy and even gaudy are some appropriate adjectives to describe my mom's style, and each of us have taken a little cue from her (have you seen the picture of my Miss Me Jeans from Buckle with rows of sequins on the butt?)  Pictures are coming . .

Yes, it's just a dress.  But it ties us all together in a way that is unique.  My mom is gone, but her legacy lives on in me, my daughters, and all the family and friends whose lives she touched.  "The dress" is our link forever.

Maybe my New Year's Resolution should be to slim down to do that dress justice and just paint the town "red" or "black" one special night as a tribute to my mom.  The only catch - she'd be mad that she wasn't there with me!

Goodbye 2011. . . 2012 . . . please be kind.