Do I Really Have to Go to WalMart?

Memories. 

I’m flooded with memories. I think that is normal, everything else points to my need for medication or a stiff drink. Nah, I’ll keep writing.

I have been waiting for four and a half months for that dream. You know the one. It’s where the lost loved one appears and tells you that everything is going to be alright. The one where the grieving person finds peace and can move on. Well, let me tell you, I had a dream the other night only I didn’t wake up thinking “boy, I feel better. Now I can conquer the world.” I can’t really tell you much about it because the part where my mom enters the room and speaks is the only part that I can remember. She was there though. But then, she is always there. 

Regardless, in the dream, I was standing in a room and my mom came in and said, “Do you want to go to WalMart? We need to get some paper for this easel.”

I’ll give you a moment to ponder that…………..

What the heck does that mean!

A little background is required here. 

I understand that WalMart is a store that many frequent. I even go on rare occasions. It has everything. Need groceries, clothes, toys, tires, go to WalMart. I happen to be one of the few who avoids the store if I can. I can’t explain it but I have been known to have mild asthma attacks by just entering the store. I have witnesses I assure you. Strange I know, but then WalMart isn’t actually on the approved list of stores that I allow in my bubble. The point is, I don’t care for the store and my mom knew it.

So, why after all these months did she appear in my dream and ask me a question that she knows the answer to? After all of this time, I have waited to hear her speak words of wisdom and this is what she chose? (I know, dreams are our subconscious expelling the stuff that fills our minds over a period of time).  For my own insanity, I am going to say that my mom appeared in my dream to speak to ME.

I am confused. I see her face more and more. It doesn’t upset me as much, but still I wish it was her real face and not just a memory. I love the memories, but sometimes I feel like I am running from them. A year and a half ago, I moved. I wasn’t able to actually do the moving, so my mom stepped in. She set up my house. Every room has her fingerprints somewhere. She made my curtains, she organized my kitchen, and she put in the shelf paper. My mom is all over my house and sometimes it bothers me. I don’t know if that is normal. Sometime I just want to get away from those memories. Now that can’t be normal. I have some of her things, a sewing kit, a quilt she made me, a scarf and some other stuff. I don’t like having them in my reach. I can’t even explain why. I miss her so much yet I can’t get the quilt that she made me down out of my closet. I see it every day; I just don’t want to hold it. Why? Maybe I am afraid of how I will feel if I do. I’m not getting it down because I just don’t want to test that theory yet. 

Is this normal? Does everyone who has been through a death of a parent feel this way?

Why did she ask if I wanted to go to WalMart? That is so ordinary and un-profound. Or is it?

Could my mom be telling me to stop trying to analyze everything and stop hanging on to everything in the hopes that she will come back? Was she telling me to move on? Was she telling me to stop crying over her and get busy living my ordinary life? I know how I am going about things isn’t how she instructed me, but then I never did everything she told me to do. I don’t think she would like that I have plastered her picture all over Facebook and I know she wouldn’t like how I have described her in her final days. Given the fundraising circumstances, I think she would give me a pass.

  

I know, my mom wasn’t really asking me if I wanted to go to WalMart. What she really said was it is time to move on. I am an artist and she was my biggest fan. I am almost positive the whole “we need to get paper for the easel” was that making art was my outlet and I need to get back to creating. I need to get back to enjoying life. 

I know that, but how?

Oh how I miss my mom. My kids miss their Emmy. 

I love memories. They make me feel warm and cozy, most of the time. I have a lot of memories with my mom. I am sure they will make their way to print at some point. But, my mom was practical, I am a dreamer. We clashed. I think it is time that I let her speak. It is time that I take that step forward and start making those great memories with my family. I mostly feel good about saying that too. I’ve made progress.

I have to say that I am a little sad though. Pebbles just shrunk….but only a little.

By the way, have you donated yet? Everyday people are fighting for their lives because of pancreatic cancer. One dollar is all you need to give. My mom could move mountains. She isn’t here to help, so I need you to help me move this one. It will be the most important donation you could ever make. 

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

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

I'm Just Being a Silly Girl

One year ago today my phone rang and it was my mom with the worst news I had ever heard. 

One year. 

Before I know it, I will be saying that it has been one year since my mom passed. I hate that word. I hate not having a mom here.

This last year has been the toughest of my life and I hope we never see a year like it again. I can only speak from my experience with pancreatic cancer and I know how tough it was. I imagine all cancers are tough. Many can be treated and cured. I hear, about other cancers, “the prognosis is good,” or “the survival rate is really high.” I never heard that from a single person. My mom never heard that either. Can you imagine what it must have been like for her? This woman, strong and courageous, was told from day one that there was absolutely no hope. She was told that she was going to die. She said she wasn’t scared, but how could you not be? Maybe not scared of where she was going, but she had to be scared of what was happening.

Everyone knows that my mom chose to fight. Some might find that a strange statement, but if you know anything about this particular disease then you know that is a choice that must be made. One road takes a person straight to the end of this life but still requires heavy medication. The other road can buy time, one month, two months, a year maybe three, maybe more. There is just no way of knowing. Life is full of uncertainties. That is what makes it hard. I personally like to read the end of the book first. It is just my way. My mom didn’t want to know until she made her way through all of the chapters. You can probably guess which road I wanted my mom to take. I am proud of the decision she made. She wanted to make sure she tried everything she could just on the chance that she could be the one who could beat it. I didn’t want my mom to die, but I didn’t want her to suffer. Who would? I knew what my path for her would mean. But, I wanted quality, something she didn’t really have. No regrets, never. My mom is a hero. It was just her time.

People told me that they were amazed at how I handled everything and how they would have been a wreck. I had them fooled. I didn’t fool my mom, but I didn’t fall apart very often around her either. Instead, I fell apart at home. I did my best to raise her spirits, encourage her and I told her all about Heaven. Haven’t been there yet, but I have read a lot and one of my best friends has ministered to me when I have asked. He has read a lot too. I wanted to make sure that my mom understood what was happening and I wanted her to know what was waiting for her. Most of those discussions happened during the last month. No, I didn’t handle it well and I feel like I am sort of paying the price now. My mom didn’t need to worry about me; she needed to believe that I was okay. That’s actually funny now that I think about it. I am terribly emotional and my mom knew it. I wonder how different it would have been if I had not tried so hard to keep it all in. Look, I knew in my heart that this disease was going to take her life. No matter how much I wanted it different, something inside told me that I needed to accept that every day during the last year was going to be the last date that I was going to have her here. I couldn’t change it. 

No, I am not strong. I am just a good faker. Nothing has changed inside me over the last year; I just don’t have the hurt of seeing her suffer. I have the hurt of not seeing her. I can’t figure out which is worse. So many little tiny things happen and her smiling face pops up in my head. That’s hard. I don’t cry all of the time but then I never did. I cry hard in spurts. I miss my mom but then I’ve said that a time or two. I wonder what I hope to accomplish by repeating myself. I don’t like repeating myself, but on this subject I just do. Mom isn’t coming back. I don’t really need her to, I just want her to. And I know I am not alone, it just seems like a very lonely club I belong to. I wasn’t ready to join but here I am. 

I keep writing because I think that one day a light bulb will go off and my grieving will be over. Maybe by putting my words out “there” I will force myself to keep going and ultimately I will be okay. Sometimes, I’m just not okay. Words don’t help. It just hurts. I do kind of hope that maybe my pathetic self could be helping someone else that is going through the same thing. I know how many people read, I have even heard from a few. So if I can’t figure out myself then maybe you, or you over there, are saying to yourself right now, “that sad girl is hurting just like me. I’m not alone.”

One year since the diagnosis. It has been long and short. I haven’t been back to the grave. I’m not sure I will ever go. She isn’t there. I have only been back to my parent’s house twice. I think that makes me a bad daughter. The last time I was there, I looked around and couldn’t absorb anything. I really thought she would come down the hallway with her crossword puzzle complaining that she only needed one more word. I need to go. I need to help clean out her closet. I said I would but now, it’s easier to stay away. The heart of that home is gone. 

My mom is still gone. I hate pancreatic cancer. I wish everyone did. 

I should be proud of my fundraising for this disease. Instead, I feel I haven’t been able to honor my mom properly. However, with the help of a wonderful person at PanCan, my city has written a proclamation declaring November Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Month. All I did was send the prewritten letter to the mayor. But, I am telling myself that because of PanCan and because of me, my city is honoring my mom in November. (I know that isn’t the reality). My mom would be so proud. Now I feel I have made a difference. Silly isn’t it?

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

Can a Fish Be Spayed? Just Wonderin'

I think my fish is a sex addict. There, I said it. I am not proud of her, but I think an intervention is in her future. I realize this has nothing to do with my grieving process or fundraising, but this is something that has been brewing in my house, ok in my fish tank, for quite some time and I think it is time I address the issue.

It all started oh about 3 or 4 months ago. We have two Dalmatian Mollys and they happen to love each other. Curiously, Lady Molly became pregnant and gave birth. It was a special time in our home. Our daughter just loved the babies and we desperately tried to save as many as we could. In the battle of nature vs. nurture, nature won and we were only able to save three. Unfortunately, most were consumed at an earlier date and one of the three decided the nursery wasn’t comfy and perished. So, two survived and are thriving. Whoo hoo, free fish. 

About a month ago, I noticed that Lady Molly was gaining weight. Being the female that I am, I decided not to point it out to her and hope that it was just stress and she using food to ease her emotions. Nope, she was pregnant…..again. No problem, we learned a few things and we had a plan. Yes, this could work. We would separate her from the other fish into a smaller tank. We would watch her and when she had her babies we would move her back to the bigger tank. 

Lady Molly grew. If you can imagine a pot-belly pig as a fish, that was what she looked like. She even waddled when she swam. Last night I made her a nice tank with new everything, the perfect birthing palace. We moved her this morning. My guess was that she was either going to give birth or just go belly up. We had no choice, my daughter loves babies and we will do just about anything for her. The day went on just like normal. No excitement, no drama. I decided to check on our expectant mom. Yep, she gave birth. It was sweet. There were babies swimming here and there. We moved mom so the babies could have a better chance. Then we started counting. At first, we counted about 10. No problem, we have lined up adoptions. Notice I said “at first.” Lady Molly had roughly 40 babies. You read it right, 40! They are all alive and eating fish food. What do I do with 40 fish if they survive? That doesn’t include the other 12 I have in the original tank. These aren’t guppies, they grow much bigger.

Can you spay a fish? No that would be too hard. I can’t have a talk with her about waiting a little while longer, I don’t speak fish. Although, my son says he can speak dolphin..hmm, something to think about. Seriously, how do I teach my fish that just because he says he loves her doesn’t mean she should make babies with him? This is a dilemma and frankly I just don’t know how to solve it. Can’t flush a live fish; that would be wrong, right? (Please pick your jaws up, I am on the side of the animal/fish). I guess I could get a third tank and put it next to the babies and the hermit crab tanks. Oh my gosh, I just thought of something. Do fish inbreed? Wholly crap (please forgive me)! Are we going to have fish popping out all over the place? Clearly I won’t be sleeping tonight. I will be up trying to keep the boys away from the girls. Oh the life of a parent.

So, we have two four year olds, two dogs, two hermit crabs and 52 fish. The kids I’ll keep, the dogs are old and just want to lie around, the hermit crabs like to redecorate and then the fish… 

WANTED

Lots of free fish to a good home.

Must have own tank.

Send inquiries to me.

I realize this seems made up, but I assure you, it is a true story. I now have 52 fish. I didn’t this morning but I do now. On a side note, my son thinks that all animals poop out babies. I think I will save that discussion for another day. Welcome to my life.

By the way, click on the link below and donate, I’ll send you a fish.

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

If You Like Snacks, Come With Me

What do you stand for? Who do you stand for? I have spent a great amount of time in my life asking myself the first question. As cliché as it sounds, I have asked myself, more than once, what is the meaning of life. I have always felt that I have a greater purpose than just muddling by like the masses. Before pancreatic cancer came into my life, I was struggling to find my role in life. Wife, mother, daughter, friend, income bringer-inner and when my mom was diagnosed I added grieving daughter; how to manage those and still feel like a human was the challenge. Don’t get me wrong, I love being a mom, wife, friend and daughter. But something has always been missing….me.

Music has been important to me throughout my life. When I was little I would listen to Wacky Westerns and Elvis. As I aged, Elvis and whatever was trendy was what I played. It’s funny how I can hear a song and it takes me right back to a particular time, some were good, and some were not so good. Regardless, I can pair certain events in my life with certain songs. I know I’m not the only one, but in my mind it is my special gift. The last three weeks of my mom’s life were difficult. I think I have driven that home a time or two. My drive to her was no less than an hour and a half, each way. So, I had some time to listen to music. Many times I listened to my kids DVDs or CDs. Simple songs about not hitting or just the alphabet. I did listen to mainstream music too. One song in particular just seemed to play every trip. You have to understand here that I rarely listen to the words. The song had no special meaning to my situation; it just played on the radio…a lot. I hear it sometimes and suddenly I am driving by myself to see what pancreatic cancer did to my mom since I saw her last. Those feelings of what am I going to see or find come pounding back. I like the song and I always listen. I imagine that she is still here. CRAZY! I know! 

There is another song that I have heard a few times. I looked it up, watched and listened. I listened to the words. That is why I am asking, what do you stand for? I thought about it all the way home today. 

What do I stand for?

Tough question, isn’t it? I’ll answer. 

I stand, first and foremost, for my babies. I am their voice, I am their biggest fan. 

I stand for my husband. Smartest person I have ever known. He saved me from a life I wasn’t looking forward to.

I stand for my mom. She can’t anymore. 

I stand for every person who has pancreatic cancer. They have enough to worry about, so I will fight for a cure for them.

I stand for their families. They feel exactly like I do. It’s not fair.

I stand for everyone who will be diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Today they may have no clue, but tomorrow their world will turn over. They need people in their corner.

I stand for those who have donated. They gave selfishly to this fight. Some because they know me, some because they know the disease.

I stand for those who have not donated because many have no idea what this beast will do. 

Many think they are immune to it. I will stand for you too.

What is my purpose? My purpose for now is to be a wife, mother, fundraiser and a fighter of pancreatic cancer. My purpose is to raise money for a cure. My purpose is to stand for my mom and for all of those affected by pancreatic cancer.

I always thought there should be a commercial that shows people who have the disease, friends and family each standing one at a time in front of a camera. Their eyes would pierce through the screen and they would simply say, “I am the face of pancreatic cancer. I am the face of a fighter.”

I’m not in television; I can’t even get them to notice my cause. But I will say this; 

I am the face of pancreatic cancer! I am the face of a fighter!

What do you stand for? 

Who do you stand for?

While you are thinking, come stand beside me. Fight with me. Who knows, I could bring snacks, I’m a good cook.

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

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