No One Wants to See a Messy Puddle of Goo

I have a husband, two kids, 52ish fish, two hermit crabs, I am trying to start a business, I work part-time, coach soccer, take care of my home, fundraise for pancreatic cancer research, my mom, friend and cat died (all had the same thing) and now I have added a puppy. My pile is growing. It is supposed to be getting smaller but I keep adding to it. 

Before I get to my analysis of myself, here is Sidney.

She is the only puppy my daughter will get close to. My other dogs are 50+ pounds so I am pretty sure Sidney is the world’s smallest puppy. We will have to adjust our way of thinking now. 

So, back to my pile. I know what I’m doing and I’ll get to that in a minute. Recently I have been discussing the need to simplify my life. I bought a rain barrel, compost bin and we are growing tomatoes and cabbage. Never mind that I don’t eat either, we are trying to simplify and leave less of a footprint. The past year has been so stressful and I have felt like I could either deflate at any moment or explode. I decided that simplifying my life would help. I wanted to get the worry and stress out and this is the only way I could think of to do that. Instead, I am adding on. My bubble is getting crowded, but then the additions are of my choosing. That’s right; I am choosing to add to my pile. I bought the hermit crabs and fish, I volunteered to coach and I chose to set a goal of a million dollars. I am doing this to myself and I know why. Again, I will get to that shortly.

When my mom left, I felt like my family left. They didn’t, they were just grieving. I have relatives, but immediately, I have my dad and a brother. My mom held us together and the day she died felt like the three of us were miles apart. She did everything and suddenly, we had to do it while we grieved. The three of us are what is left. Yes there are others, but again, immediately it is just the three of us. As the only girl, I really felt alone and to some degree, I still do. I am the emotional one. I can’t remember the last time I saw my brother cry and I don’t think I ever saw my dad cry. No criticism here that is just their way. Now, I see, hear and feel the sadness in my dad. His tears are hard. My brother has his own way of dealing. I guess what I am trying to say is that the three of us are all equally sad and heartbroken; we are just grieving separately in our own ways. That has been hard because what I want is for us to sit and cry together. That isn’t going to happen because that is not how they grieve and I realized that the other day. It made sense and now I think I understand that part of my sadness a little better.

Last Friday the headstone was put in place. My brother sent me a picture on Saturday just as we were getting in the car to go to Home Depot for a kid’s workshop. I looked away as soon as I saw the picture but not before I saw the name. Tears came and that brief glimpse was burned into my mind. I knew it was going to be placed soon, so why did it bother me? It’s real now. No matter how much I hope and wish. No matter how many times I close my eyes really hard and tense up my muscles, my mom isn’t coming back. My mom is gone and that headstone says so. It is official. I know, “silly girl, she’s been gone for 5 months.” But for five months there hasn’t been a marker on her grave. I know she isn’t there, but without that official bronze marker, I could pretend that nothing was there. No, my mom’s shell is there. She isn’t but it is and that stone says it is true. 

My dad called that night to ask if I looked at the picture. He sounded disappointed when I told him I couldn’t. I tried to explain, but at that moment I felt like I let him down. How crazy is that? All he wanted was to share that picture with me and I couldn’t do it. I didn’t sleep well after that.

Late yesterday afternoon, I looked at it. I really don’t have any words. Sculpturally it was well done, but I hate it. I hate what it means. I hope that sounds the way I am thinking it. To me it means that the final step was taken. Pancreatic cancer won. It victimized my family. It robbed my family. Without that horrible beast, that marker wouldn’t be there and I wouldn’t be writing this and I wouldn’t be feeling the way I feel.

Back to my pile.

I am sitting here at my desk, all alone and I am missing my mom, hating pancreatic cancer and feeling sorry for myself. Alone; my enemy. That is where the pile comes in. As much as I want to simplify, I can’t. If I don’t keep going, if I don’t keep piling it on, I am going to be a messy puddle of goo that cries all the time. The more I take on, the less time I have to fall apart. I don’t know if that is healthy. I don’t think I am repressing anything, I think I am just trying to keep moving in a direction. Hopefully I am going forward with the occasional sideways stray. Time will tell. 

So, I bought the world’s smallest puppy. I said it was for my kids, but really she is for me. I don’t know why. I don’t want any more animals. But something happened when I held her. I think my heart melted just a smidge. I love that puppy and I think she loves me. 

One more thing on my pile. It will keep me going until………

Don't forget to click on the link and donate. Don't let pancreatic cancer win.

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