Who Sent That Picture Mail on My Phone?

I need a mom hug. You know the kind. The kind that says don’t worry, don’t cry, it is all going to be just fine. I can’t have that hung anymore and I am feeling low. What else is new, right?

Actually I thought I might be creeping up on the “I’m feeling better ladder”, then Wednesday happened. It wasn’t a special day or anything, just the same old stuff kind of day. I went to a class and then went shopping. I was giving me a day to myself. I was finished shopping and I was waiting at the counter to check out. I made nice chit-chat and my phone buzzed letting me know I had a text. I thought it might be work so I decided to look. That’s when I saw it. My phone said “MOM, Multimedia Message”. I am one hundred percent sure that my heart stopped for a second. I looked around, like there was someone playing a joke. Nope, just the store clerk, my phone and me. It was in that moment that I thought, and please cut me some slack here because I know this is crazy, that my mom sent picture mail from Heaven. 

What next?

I did the only thing I could; I took a deep breath and tapped the screen. Then I waited for what seemed like a really long time. Time slowed and the noise around me hushed. Oooo sounds ominous (which by the way is my son’s favorite word and I don’t know why). Enough of the dramatics. Really, the picture came up in a flash. It was a big flower arrangement. Bingo! All the pieces were in place. My heart sank. 

Cut to two days earlier. I received heartbreaking news on Monday. One of my favorite aunts passed away. I had not seen her in a really long time, but over the years she and her family were in my heart and on my mind. She had a great laugh; the infectious kind. They moved when I was little and like with so many other things, time just took over and the years passed. Facebook has allowed me to reconnect with my cousins. That has been a blessing and just for that (and the donations from a few) I am thankful for that awful social media. I wanted to go to her gala, but I just couldn’t find a way. However, my dad decided that he would go for all of us. My dad, who at this point in his life hates to travel, who lost the love of his life, decided that he would pack his things and DRIVE several states over. I capitalized drive because I wanted him to fly. I tried to say the things I thought my mom would have. “Do you have enough clothes, do you have directions, take your cell phone and charger.” He humors me. The cell phone is significant. The discussion there revolved around the fact that he really doesn’t know how to use all of the features and how he gets help to retrieve calls. 

Let’s move back to Wednesday.

Since my dad’s knowledge of his cell phone is limited, you can see now why I thought my mom was messaging me from Heaven. There was no way, in my mind, that he took a picture and sent it to me. He has never taken a picture with a phone in his life. I decided to investigate. No one had sent that picture. Strange. I can usually solve problems, but this one, well it just made me look like an amateur. I knew what the picture was. I ordered flowers for the gala. But who took the photo and sent it? 

Uh…..my dad! 

I know! When did he learn that skill? If I had just contacted the source instead of hunting around, my mystery would have been solved. No dramatics here, my dad knew the phone would take pictures because he “saw the round dot on the outside of the phone” aka the camera lens. He asked someone to show him how to take a picture and then how to send it to me. Ta-Da! My dad has technological skills that I knew nothing about. I am proud of him.

That was the beginning of my sadness this time.

You see, even though I knew that wasn’t from my mom, there was such big a part of me that wanted it to be from her. It wasn’t. I’m just guessing that texting isn’t part of life in Heaven. Childish thoughts, but for that moment, I thought my wishing and hoping had come true. I even thought that maybe it was something she had sent long ago and it had been lost in the “air” this whole time. Crazy. I am really reaching here and I know it. I should just change the name on my phone from Mom to Dad. …..no, I’m not ready to do that yet. If I do that then I would have to start working on letting Pebbles the boulder go. Nope, not gonna do that yet. I need those things, or do I?

I need a hug from my mom. Not going to happen though. How do I move past that? I don’t know. 

This year has thrown a lot of changes my way. I don’t like change. We don’t change in my bubble. Regardless, I see more coming at me and I am fighting to keep them away. They are overwhelming and I feel like I am sinking. My mom was always good at helping me here. She just knew how to pick me up. She would tell me that most of these changes are for the better and I should embrace them. My mom and I didn’t always agree, but she was almost always right.  I’ll tell you more about the changes next week.

For now, I will save the picture that my dad sent me. His first, and probably last. My dad is healing. I’m not. I wonder how he is doing it. We don’t really talk about that too much. I wish we did, but I understand. I love him more than he will ever know.

Theresa, Tami and Mary, time has separated our family but love always survives. We all belong to that club that we never wanted to be a part of. I am sorry. Our hearts all hurt the same and I can’t tell you how to heal it. If you have been reading then you know that I hurt just as much now as I did four months ago. We have the greatest moms. They both had the best laughs. That is what I remember. We will make it, because God is present and He knows what He is doing. I think sometimes though, he just doesn’t move as fast as we want. What we have to remember, is that our moms are laughing in Heaven, together. That makes me feel a little better.

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/evamckinney/KeeptheMemoryAlive

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sBq1E1gbPhY&feature=share

Playing in Dirt Isn't Lady Like? Who Knew?

I have loved my mom for my whole life. Probably not an uncommon statement, but I have. Quick story here. My mom and dad married young and quickly started a family. They had two sons and my mom was finished having babies. As she told it to me, my dad really wanted a girl. She said he even told her that it would be great to have a little girl to get into her makeup and clothes. She didn’t agree. Four years after their last son, she found out she was pregnant. Back then, you didn’t know what gender the baby was until it was born. Anyway, my mom was not happy. She said she didn’t want to be pregnant and didn’t want a third child. Nine months later, it was me. Whoo Hoo! My dad was over the moon, he finally had a girl. Now I was young so I don’t remember much, but I think my mom was happy too. We always joked that I was the baby she never wanted. I countered with, “doesn’t matter to me because you are stuck with me.” She agreed. 

Over the course of the years, we were the girls. I was a little rougher than most but I was still a toenail painting, doll playing girl. My mom would dress me up and most of the time I couldn’t stand it. I wanted cut-offs and a tee-shirt, just like the boys. I am sure that frustrated her because she was all girl. She knew how to dress, act and just be proper only without being stiff. Many times I would hear, “that’s not lady-like.” I never cared; I liked playing in the dirt and climbing trees.

The love between a mother and daughter is something special. Most of the time when you are growing up, that love is not appreciated. I’m not sure it is supposed to be. Kids live in the moment and moms are just the ones who take care of us and as my son says, “give the best kisses.” As teenagers, kids tend to rebel and think that their moms are outdated and don’t understand. I can recall thinking my mom just didn’t know how I felt. She did. I just didn’t realize it until later. 

My mom, dad, brother, husband and myself all sat down one day to plan her final gala. What a gift that was. We hated doing it but it was something we did as a family. She was specific. She wanted some readings done and one in particular was and is very close to my heart and I would like to share it.

When I was young you were there every day.

You were given no reward, no honor, no pay.

You were just the person who took care of me, nothing more.

You never complained, it was never a chore.

You knew what to say when I was sad.

You even knew what to do when I was bad.

You were a mom, these things you just did.

What did I know, I was only a kid.

As I look back now, I realize your goal,

You were simply molding my soul.

The things I now say and the things I now do

Are direct reflections of you.

So, I live my life in honor of you,

And I hope I make you proud…that’s all I want to do.

I’ll still make mistakes and you’ll be there to mend,

But the great part now is that you are my friend.

Copyright 2000

I wrote this for my mom on Mother’s Day 2000. 

So, if you are a daughter, or have a daughter, hug them tight. We are a special group. My daughter is one of the loves of my life. She has a special story and I am so blessed that God chose her for me. 

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/evamckinney/KeeptheMemoryAlive

Four Quarters Equal a Dollar

Twice this week I have been discussing the woes of trying to get people to donate. Twice this week I have been told, “Well…the economy is bad and it is an election year.” 

WHAT!!!! 

IT IS A DOLLAR PEOPLE! WHAT IS THE BIG DEAL? 

My apologies for yelling, but seriously, what is the big deal? Why is it so hard to give one dollar? If there is an answer, no one is telling me.

Let me take a moment to see what costs a dollar.

There are stores that have everything is a dollar as their gimmick. So theoretically you could be giving up any item in one of those stores. You can get a burrito at Taco Bell. I think they are tasty, but I can live without at least one. Any large beverage at McDonald’s seems to be only a buck. Sodas are bad for you so giving up one is just doing yourself a favor. Target has a dollar section full of needless items that scream “buy me” when you walk into the store. I am guilty of purchasing said items. Doing without will save me the headache of having to throw it away when it breaks. The list can go on if you like.

You can afford to donate one dollar. Is it the time it takes to click several times that turns you off? Is it the processing fee that has you holding on to your change? Email me and we can work something out. My point, there is absolutely no reason you can give me as to why you won’t part with four quarters. 

I am a broken record, I know. I think some of my problem here is that I am not speaking face-to-face. If you saw my face, heard my voice, well, I would convince you to donate. Sometimes I wish I had a picture of what my mom looked like during the last three weeks of her life here. My dad made it very clear that he did not want to remember her that way so we were to take absolutely no pictures. Actually there is one picture. She was in the hospital and the chaplain stopped by for one of many visits. He asked if my mom minded being photographed for the local newspaper. It had something to do with the cancer care center there. She agreed and it appeared in the newspaper. I have it, but out of respect to my dad, I will not show it. 

I won’t speak for all who have experienced what my family has, but the transformation of my mom’s outer appearance was shocking. During the last three weeks, she starved to death. I realize some are saying right now “why didn’t you feed her properly?” We tried. This cancer killed her appetite. She tried but she could only manage a few sips of broth. She lost her strength. She couldn’t even drink through a straw. We would put the straw in the water, cover the opening and then let it drain into her mouth. Over and over we did this. She could only handle a little. She began to swell. We asked where the fluid was coming from. We were told that her body was shutting down and it couldn’t process fluid like healthy bodies. Her upper body was skin and bones. Unrecognizable is how she looked that last day. Pancreatic cancer robbed her of everything…..except love. She would sort of zone in and out. Sometimes she would just stare off, like she was watching something. Other times she would sort of snap out of it and seem so surprised and happy to see us. No, she was never robbed of love. 

We all share that. We love. That is why I keep going. I love my mom so very much. Each day is a struggle. There are others who are feeling the same way and there will be others who will feel the same way. My love for my mom keeps me asking YOU to donate. I don’t want anyone else to go through what pancreatic cancer put us through. I want a cure. You should want a cure. Like I said earlier, I can’t speak for others who have experienced this disease, but I bet much of what I said my mom went through is actually typical. Is that something you want to live through? I didn’t think so. Click on the link, donate and live knowing that your dollar is going to help stop this disease. 

Donating is the only way to stop it.

I will end again with the wisdom of my four year old son. The other day I was feeling exceptionally sad. I was sitting in the floor crying. He came in hugged me and asked what was wrong. I told him that I missed my mom. He stepped back, his pouty lip came out and he asked, “Did she die?” I said yes, Emmy died, she lives in God’s house, remember?” He said yes and gave me a spectacular hug. I said again that I was just sad because I miss my mom. He said, “That’s okay Mama, you still have Papa.” 

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/evamckinney/KeeptheMemoryAlive

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sBq1E1gbPhY&feature=share

Jiggly Belly and a Dead Horse

I have a problem. Ok, I have another problem on top of all my problems. I am addicted to Rocky Road ice cream. I’m not making fun, I am seriously addicted to these wonderful little pints that I can buy at my corner drug store. Let me start by saying that I think I am a much healthier eater than I was ten years ago. I try to eat vegetables, I don’t drink sodas and I buy organic as much as I can. I also make most everything so processed foods are on their way out. But I can’t seem to give up Blue Bell’s Rocky Road ice cream. They have other flavors that I like, but there is just something about opening that pint with those little marshmallows and bits of almonds that melt me. I can only eat it at night too. Never during the day. It is my simple pleasure that I just can’t seem to give up. I try. I actually said the other night that I am only going to allow myself one splurge a month. Two days later, after finishing my tub, I said the same thing. I never buy more than I will eat in one sitting. If I buy a half gallon, well then let me just say that it doesn’t last long. I feel the effects of it, but at least I am running so that has to count for something. My weakness unfortunately is my husband’s too. We have no shame, just jiggly bellies. I have an idea; I could make this work for me. I could pledge that for each person who donates, I will eat a pint. Hmmm….nah I would really jiggle then. Nope, I won’t do it. I will just do it the old fashioned way….ask.

In the beginning asking was simple. I asked and my friends and family responded. Now, donations have slowed to almost a halt. One donation was made yesterday. I knew about it, but it was from someone who said it was a charity close to her heart. She gave me a boost. I was down yesterday…Surprise! Anyway, I wasn’t feeling terribly positive. My husband said I should take a break from all of this and I was considering it. Actually, what I really wanted to do was to post a thank you on Facebook, say a polite good-bye and then scoot back into my bubble. Facebook has caused me such disappointment. I thought I could convince the people I went to school with that after all of this time, they should jump on board with a crazy woman they once might have known. I thought I could make them care for something so terrifying to me that they would donate and tell everyone they knew to do the same. I failed to think that maybe they all have lives and causes they are supporting. I am naïve. Well, I live in a bubble what do you expect.  Then the donation yesterday happened. Renewed hope. At least a little. I didn’t compose my farewell instead I made another plea. Only one responded (as of right this second). I think it is safe to say that I have beaten that dead horse enough. I say that now, but I can’t help thinking that there is someone out there that has not been reached yet, that has not seen the video or simply doesn’t know what pancreatic cancer is. That someone may not have had the chance to read everything I have posted. That someone may be the one that starts a national campaign to help raise a million dollars. For that person, I will keep at it. For my mom and everyone else that has been forced to know this disease, I WILL KEEP ASKING! 

In the meantime, I will venture out of my bubble, some. I will keep dragging Pebbles because she is family now. I will carry this weight for all of those suffering, grieving or fighting. But please forgive me if I put on a little weight in the future. I’m going to the store to get some rocky road.

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/evamckinney/KeeptheMemoryAlive

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sBq1E1gbPhY&feature=share

I Seem to Be Out of Catchy Titles Today

I’m tired. Tired of feeling sad, tired of the tears hitting me out of the blue and tired of living pancreatic cancer every day. Does anyone know what that feels like? I know the answer, but I would like to hear from others every now and then. There is a comment button at the end of this post. I need to know that I am not alone. I want to hear your story. Everyone has one, even I do. Pancreatic cancer isn’t the only one, but it is the only one that is key to what I am trying to do. 

I need a break from this. I need a vacation without internet, phones and stresses. But, you see, I can’t do that. If I take a break from fighting for everyone who has pancreatic cancer and for those who are going to get it then I have wasted very valuable time. Does that make sense? I have no idea why this disease chose my mom. I will never know, I assume. It robbed us and I am not going to let it rob anyone else. Do you know what it feels like to be robbed of a life with someone? I know there are a lot of people who do. I’m not the first and won’t be the last to ever lose someone so precious that without them, breathing is hard. I know by living this disease every day, I am robbing me of closure. But right now, I have to do this. 

Over the past week, I have read so many stories just like mine. I have found so many people who are fighting the same fight. One lady is running marathons and a very nice gentleman is going to walk across America; all for the fight against pancreatic cancer. It is amazing what people will do. It is inspiring. I have messaged back and forth with many and all are so supportive. They understand what I am doing. My close friends do too. This is a disease that brings me to tears and frightens me to my core. Yes, only because my mom had it. I wish she hadn’t. Can’t change the past, only the future. That doesn’t help me really, but I think if I keep thinking that way then maybe, just maybe, my spirits will turn around. 

I’m tired. Not the lay down and get some rest kind. I am emotionally, physically and every other –ly there is kind of tired. Do you know what that is like? Each day is a challenge, but one that I will face for my family and for those who are depending on the researchers finding a cure. I will recharge at some point but for now I have to keep fighting. I may not be running a race, (I am still running though) and I may not be walking across America, but I am working towards the same goal.

I have the support of my husband and friends and I am grateful. They know me and know what I have to do. They have all donated and they are going to walk with me on that emotional day in November so that we can honor my mom and show everyone that we are fighting together. They are standing behind me as I constantly ask people to donate just one dollar. They understand.

Please, tell me your story. Tell me how you were able to move forward. And while you are at it, click on the link and donate. If I haven’t tugged at your heart strings then watch the YouTube video my husband made. My kids are holding the signs. After you watch, share it and donate.

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/evamckinney/KeeptheMemoryAlive

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sBq1E1gbPhY&feature=share

A Broken Heel and a Prayer

I said that I was going to give living a try. My husband said he thought it was a good idea. My next question was, “what do I do?” You know that was one of the questions I asked my mom over and over again. She always answered, “You keep living.” Some days it is so hard but I keep trying.

So, now that I am going to try to live, what do I do first? For a long time now I haven’t been on my “to do” list. I am finding that I am at the bottom of that list now. It isn’t the best place to be but at least I am back just a little. I need to take better care of myself first and foremost. I wouldn’t call myself unhealthy, but I have stopped exercising and I like ice cream. A few years ago I started to run. I loathe running. The best part is stopping. Regardless, I started running. Now, I am a mild asthmatic so to say I was uncomfortable would be generous. I was pathetic. But, over time, I was able to run to the corner of my street. Before long, I ran around the block without stopping. In a few months, I was running long distances. I won’t say how long because my long distance isn’t exactly that. I ran three nights a week and in the hopes of clearing my mind and feeling better physically. It did that and more. You see, when I run, I pray. In the beginning it was “please God get me to the corner.” Maybe it wasn’t the right prayer, but it got me to the corner. Over time, my prayers were more like conversations. I talked to God, He listened and He helped. I eventually ran a 5K. The day after Christmas, I broke my heel….running. And in the words of the eloquent Forest Gump, “just like that, my runnin’ days was over.”

A few days ago, I started to run…again. Let’s just say that it is harder than it was before. I kind of thought my heel would crack on the spot. It didn’t, darn it, now I am a runner again. It is good for me so I will keep at it. Still, the best part of running is stopping but even that is starting to not be comfortable.

I have also started a hobby, quilting. The problem here is that I can’t sew very well. In fact, I can only sew on a machine. I will keep at that one. It is hard because my mom could sew and every time the needle goes up and down, it reminds me of my mom. I sew and I cry.

Both things seem very challenging. It is hard to run with Pebbles but then she isn’t holding back the sewing machine. I realized today that I didn’t pray when I ran last. Ding! Ding! That is why it is harder. As for sewing, I’ll let you know. 

I believe in prayer. I believe it helps me. Do I think it changes outcomes? I’m not sure. I believe that pancreatic cancer was going to take my mom’s life no matter how hard I prayed. Oh I prayed for God to spare her many times. That was a selfish prayer. What I prayed for most was that my mom wouldn’t hurt and that God would give her peace and help her to get through. That may be my answer right there. It seems that I might believe our lives are sort of mapped out for us, in a way. Maybe prayer isn’t to change things, maybe we pray so that we stay connected to God and we feel His strength so that we can get through whatever comes down our path. That is worth thinking about a little more. In the meantime, I’ll keep praying. 

I do believe we draw strength from prayer. My mom certainly did. So many people prayed for her. It touched her more than anyone will ever know. It touches me too. Still, people tell me they are praying for my family and me. Little do they know, I pray for them too.

Today I am living. Tomorrow, with God’s help, I will live some more. I will also keep running and praying. For everyone who is suffering, troubled or just plain sad, I will pray for you.

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/evamckinney/KeeptheMemoryAlive

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sBq1E1gbPhY&feature=share

The last link is something new. I hope you will watch and it will make you want to donate.

Was I Secretly Voted Out of the Community?

Community by definition is a social group of any size whose members reside in a specific locality, share government, and often have a common cultural and historical heritage. To have a sense of community typically means a feeling that members have of belonging, a feeling that members matter to one another and to the group, and a shared faith that members' needs will be met through their commitment to be together.

I have read about communities coming together to help each other. I have seen it in the news during tragedies. I survived a direct hit from a tornado and I experienced it personally. (It was a small tornado, but it still messed everything up). I have a sense of community and I know that many others do as well.

I am finding however, that I am starting to lose faith in the sense of community that I thought others had. I have been working so hard, with a few others, for a while, trying to gather my “community” together for a cause that is near to my heart and frankly scares me beyond belief. I thought that by appealing to Facebook folks and starting a blog that I could sort of rally the troops together to complete a simple task of finding a large group of people to donate a dollar each. I reached out to everyone I could think of and then those I have never thought of. I even appealed to the community which I currently live in. They seem to only care about minor vandals, pool chairs and other gripes. All valid I assume. Much to my dismay, the response from these two groups has been much less than I thought it would be. This blog has generated two donations while Facebook has achieved (and this is Facebook viewers only) about 15. There have been more from others and those that have donated have been generous. Overall, I am failing to see the sense of community that I was hoping for. Is it there and I am missing it? Or maybe, I’m just not included. Maybe pancreatic cancer isn’t a big deal to others. It wasn’t to me and I feel bad that it took a life altering event to make me see the reality.

I believe that there is good in everyone and that God gave each and every one of us a generous heart. I am just wondering if, for some, the compassion, the love for others outside their family has been buried so far under life that it has been put on the backburner. Life does get in the way. I am guilty of and I am ashamed. I tend to wear my heart on the outside but sometimes, I get so wrapped up in my own woes that I forget that others have woes too. 

Pancreatic cancer changed that for me. Disaster, catastrophes, diseases, illnesses happen to other people, not me. Clearly that isn’t true anymore. It never was true. Two things have happen in my life that makes me see differently now. Bad things can happen to anyone. Pancreatic cancer can happen to anyone. It doesn’t play favorites. I am not so special that I am immune to these things. Someone is going to be challenged in some way and it could be me, it could be you. We are all equal.

There is a community out there that is willing to walk this journey with me to raise a million dollars and to stop a catastrophe from happening to another family. It isn’t the people in my neighborhood and I am thinking it isn’t on Facebook. Doesn’t matter really. There are people out there like me who wear their hearts on the outside. 

I will keep searching. 

I hope I have struck a nerve in some people here. I have strong feelings and sometime they spill out. If you knew what a person goes through who has pancreatic cancer, if you knew what that person looked like the day they died, you would cry. Maybe you would be moved to donate, maybe it would scare you. 

I am auctioning a homemade quilt on ebay. All of the money from the winning bidder will be donated. http://www.ebay.com/itm/320959161789 Maybe you need to receive if you intend to give. That’s fine, money is money and the more we can raise the more people we can save.

I will keep at it.

I hope you see the point I am trying to make. It takes a community to solve problems. This is a huge problem and I need to solve it. Please, take five minutes and donate or bid on the quilt. I have said it many times but it is worth repeating over and over. My mom could move mountains. I saw her do it over and over again. I have never done it, but I intend (with your help) to move this mountain. Show me your sense of community. Validate my belief that people are at their core good and generous.

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/evamckinney/KeeptheMemoryAlive

Pebbles, Lollipops and Pumpkin Pie

My mom has been gone for three months today. Three months of no phone calls, no lectures, no unconditional love that only a mom can give and no “Hi Carole, how was your day.” It isn’t getting easier…yet. Someone told me that it will take at least a full year and even then I will have moments for the rest of my life where I feel the void. I guess I will find out on that at some point.

I am still being flooded with memories of her last week. I don’t like those memories. I have found myself wanting to pick up the phone and call her. I can’t. When my dad calls, it still shows up as Mom. I wonder if I will ever change that. Probably not. 

My boulder (her name is Pebbles) is weighing me down even more. I wasn’t sure why until my husband informed me that I have not given myself a chance to heal. I’m not sure what that even means. My mom fought for seven months. Shortly after, my friend fought for a few weeks. All the while I have been trying to raise a million dollars and blogging about it. I guess he is right. I am not healing. I keep doing things to keep the wound open and at this point it has to stay that way because I am on a mission. Many times it feels like I am alone on this journey. Funny thing about death, people are tremendously helpful towards the end and a few weeks after. But then their lives pick up and they have to move on. It isn’t a shot at those folks, it is just reality. Those of us who grieve are left to figure how to live again. How do people figure out how to live again? That is a genuine question and if anyone has an answer, please tell me. I am doing the best I can, but the flood of emotions well up inside until they spill over. I am tired. I don’t want to spill over any more, but again, I haven’t figured out how to stop it. 

Changes in my life are being made and I don’t like them. We don’t change in my bubble. Regardless change is happening. I can’t stop it. Well I can, but it wouldn’t be fair to the people around me. My kids started swim lessons; my daughter does ballet and soon soccer. My son is going to try T-Ball. They are growing up, they are living. School starts soon too. It is my insecurities that keep the papers from being signed. I will, but I want to hang on to them a little longer. No, I don’t like change but I am finding myself thinking about it more and more. Maybe I need a change. How can that be? Nah, it’s too cozy in my bubble. It is worth exploring, but from a distance. 

So, I am sad and it seems that I should accept that for now and stop trying to find a quick fix. My mom is gone and that is just the way it is. I will miss her forever, but maybe I won’t cry forever.

Yesterday my daughter told me she wanted to be a lollipop for Halloween and my son said he wanted to be a whole pumpkin pie. I think there is some wisdom there that may be overlooked. My kids are living; they are looking down the road and seeing possibilities. I think that is a good idea. I’ll give it a try.

   http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/evamckinney/KeeptheMemoryAlive

Do Bed Bugs Build Teensy Tiny Houses?

I have not slept well for a very long time. I fall asleep within a few minutes, but at some point during the night I wake up and my mind kicks in to overdrive. When it is finally time to get up, I am exhausted. I don’t know how I get through, but I do. There is always the hope that it will get better. Normal will be different, but people keep telling me that it will get better. How much longer?

Recently when I wake up, my mind goes to this blog and fundraising. I seem to be re-evaluating my reasons for starting a blog. I know why I am fundraising. But my question is the same, why am I writing and what do I hope to gain? That is tough to answer. Initially, I thought I would use it to deliver facts and my message about pancreatic cancer. I started a Facebook page, in spite of my inner voice saying, “don’t do it.” I thought that I could generate traffic through Facebook towards the blog and eventually close the Facebook page. (In case you need catching up here, I don’t enjoy Facebooking. I find much of the content not to my liking. I am not a prude; I just don’t want to know about everyone’s dinner, errands and general where abouts). Some people enjoy it, I just don’t.  I respect the right to share and I realize that I am trying to use this social media in a very different way from the general population. My frustrations are my own and I am dealing. Facebook has been successful in generating traffic, interest and some selfless, generous donations. So, it is in a small way working. I have also been blessed with the reconnection/connection of people from my past and even a few new folks that care about my cause.  

I strayed too far.

Back to the initial thought. 

So, why do I keep writing?  I know for sure, I like to talk therefore I must like to write. I don’t claim to be eloquent, but I do write from the heart. I think the real reason I keep going is so I don’t crack up. Sometimes when I feel like I am ready break, I start writing only to discover the real reasons for my feelings. In many ways, writing has been a very awakening experience for me. I am discovering things about myself that surprise me. But, I have yet to find the answers I am looking for. How do I move on after losing my mom? How do I stop feeling the need to call her whenever I have news or just want to talk? If the answer is out there, it seems to be running from me. As I type, the tears are starting again. Today is a struggle. Oh how I want the tears to stop. I take one step forward and then go running back. Why? Maybe I enjoy dragging my boulder. Maybe if I let it go then I am afraid I will let go of my mom. Hmm.

At the end of the day, I want people to read and to donate. I hope I am successful in that. Only time will tell. The pain I feel is because pancreatic cancer robbed me, and my family of the one person who knew it all. I cry for me and I cry for my babies. They don’t get the chance to know what a wonderful Emmy my mom was. They don’t get to miss her like I do. But then maybe that is a blessing because, I don’t ever want them to hurt like I do. For now, they say they remember her.

My mom left this life on May7th at 4:30am. I wasn’t there. I promised I would hold her hand as long as I could. I didn’t. It isn’t regret, but I would love to hold her hand one more time. 

Why do I write? First and foremost, I need you to make a donation and I need you to help me spread the word. Mostly, I write because I don’t know what else to do.

Please donate; it is the right thing to do.

No, I don’t sleep well but one night I will. For now, I think I will ponder my son’s wisdom.

The other night I was putting my son to bed. I said my usual “night night, don’t let the bed bugs bite.” To which he replied, “Mom, did you know bed bugs build teensy tiny houses?”

Maybe there is just too much construction going on.

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/evamckinney/KeeptheMemoryAlive