This is MY Solitary Journey

I think I’m going through a phase. Kids do it. We are always saying, “oh it’s just a phase.” My four year olds are going through a phase. Not together, they like to alternate. So, if kids go through phases, what makes us think that there is a magic point in time that these phases stop? 

I’ve covered the stages of grief and then my version of the stages. I think there are more stages, but right now I am in a phase. You’ve all heard the phrase, “sometimes bad things happen to good people.” I was told that just shortly after my mom’s diagnosis. 

Sometimes bad things happen to good people.

I consider my family and myself good people. I’m not sitting here waiting for something bad to happen. But every pain, fever, bump or what we call a bongadee (when you bang part of your body against something that hurts) causes me to stop and wonder to myself, what does it mean?

 

I’m not afraid of cancer. I’m afraid of the treatment. I’m afraid of the process and the suffering. I believe that I have seen true suffering. I don’t want to see it again.

I am supposed to give it to God, to have faith. I try but what creeps into my mind is that God’s plan and my plan may not be the same and I have no way of knowing what is around the next bend. Blind faith is hard and I am working on it.

This week my kids have been sick. By the grace of God, and I mean that, it isn’t the barfing kind of sick. They have been running a fever. Nothing serious, but try telling the little nagging voice in my head. My son has ear infections. He is fine. My daughter has an off and on again high fever. No flu, no strep. Very congested and really bad breath. I think it’s a sinus infection. Both have antibiotics. No problem. I worry because I don’t know what is going on in their tiny bodies. Is something growing that isn’t supposed to be? Is there something ticking? Is this normal? I don’t want it to be. I want to be the kind of mom that takes each day as it comes and not the kind that borrows trouble. I don’t know how to do that. I see other moms who look like they have it together. I am a mess. I’m a worrying, stressing, frumpy, tired mom/wife. 

I am going through a phase.

Most of the time when I type, I come up with solutions to my issues. As I sit here, I don’t see a solution. How do I stop worrying that something else is going to happen and take someone I love away? If cancer can attack MY mom, it can attack anyone. None of us are so special that we are immune to it. 

 

Is this a normal phase?

Two more months and it will be one year since she left. I still haven’t been to the grave. I wonder if I should. Not yet. My dad keeps flowers there. I can’t do that, she isn’t there. I am doing something soon that I think will be helpful. I am hoping it will be a way that I can let the boulder go. I don’t want to let it go because I’ve said it many times, when I let it go, I’ve let my mom go. I think I need to let it go. I’ll let you know more after it happens.

I feel old.

My mom didn’t want this for me. I know I can’t be up all the time, but I can’t be down all the time either. I have to push through. I do wonder if what I am doing here and in my life is just masking all of the things I haven’t dealt with. Have I swept so much under the rug that I am going to trip? That worries me because falling apart isn’t a phase I want to go through. I want to be strong, I want know that even though she isn’t here, all is good in the world.

I told my husband the other day that I think I want to put all of these entries into a book for my kids. At some point in the long, long, long away future, they are going to feel this way. For me, there were no guidelines, no books, no instructions. I have muddled through, day by day, by myself. I have lots of people around to help, but it’s my thoughts, my feelings, my emotions, my loneliness. They couldn’t get me through. This has been and continues to be somewhat of a solitary journey. My hope is that when it is my time to go I can give my kids my book. Maybe it will help them. Maybe they will read about what I’ve gone through and they will know that they can do it and they aren’t alone. Maybe I am wrong here. I would have loved for my mom to have given me some sort of instructions. Then maybe she wouldn’t have wanted me to know how she hurt.

I have no answers today, just questions. 

On a lighter note, we have moved into our apartment. We have giants that live above. They have bladder issues because the potty flushes all the time. My kids think we have pet mice that can write. I see two horses out of my bedroom window, I smell farm. The roosters crow each morning and occasionally the skunk sprays. I don’t like it here but it is temporary and I am thankful for my blessings.

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

I Love You More Than Fish Sticks

Sometimes I think I am going along just fine and then something sweeps my legs out from under me. My  husband tells me that when I am sick or really tired I miss my mom more. He’s right. I’ve missed her a lot these past couple of weeks. 

I was in a store today and I saw a younger lady and an older lady. There were little kids with them and they were shopping in a store that was designed for kids. I’m sure I missed what was really going on but what I noticed was how much the adult ladies look like each other. A mother and her daughter. Then it occurred to me that I don’t have my shopping partner any more. Suddenly I was sad. Then I realized that I am sort of running on fumes right now so I tried to explain it away. 

My dad called on Valentine’s Day. First of all my dad almost never calls me and he has never wished me a Happy Valentine’s Day. Yesterday he did both. I can’t tell you how happy that made me. 

My dad called me.

Up until yesterday, I have felt parent-less. Yesterday, my parent called. It is a small step but one that means the world to a daughter that has been a little more down than usual. 

Before my mom left, I made sure that there wasn’t one single thing that I could say, “I wish I had of…” about our relationship. I felt and still feel that we left nothing undone, except…I would like a mom hug. Not a I’m a mom and I happen to be hugging someone kind of hug. I want a full on, can’t catch your breath, all is right in the world kind of a hug. That’s what I need. I give those to my kids but they don’t quite get it just yet. They will but it still doesn’t take away the need I have for a hug from my mom. I think about that every day. I can push everything else away, but not that. My mom could give the best hugs. If you are one of the lucky people who have been on the receiving end of her hugs then you understand. When she hugged, she meant it.

Oddly enough, a few weeks ago I had a dream about my mom. The short version, God let her come back to see me. She was healed and she hugged me. It wasn’t long enough, the good dreams never last long. Funny though, the bad dreams seem to go on forever. 

My mom hugged me in my dream. 

I’ve said it many times before, dreams are just the way our subconscious gets rid of all of the things that sit in our minds. Or something like that. I don’t believe that my mom was “talking” to me. I believe it was something that I have been wanting for close to a year now and it popped up in my dream at the time it was supposed to. Still, it was a good dream and the hug felt real. The hug was my mom’s hug. For that moment, that second in my dream, all was right in the world.

Then I woke up.

No hug, but my dad called. That was his parent hug and it felt good. 

I have so many memories of my mom but one that just keeps coming back is our last Thanksgiving together. I cooked and she just didn’t like that. Thanksgiving was her holiday. We helped but she did most of the cooking. She never liked to just sit by and watch someone else do it. I was nervous because it was the first time that I was going to see her with her new wig. Anyone who knew her knew that her hair was always the same and it sort of was her little trademark. I was scared that she wasn’t going to look like my mom. I heard the door open and I hear the usual chatter. I stayed in the kitchen. She rounded the corner and she was beautiful. I was struck at how thin she was but she was beautiful. She was my mom. She set her things down and gave me a hug. That face, that hug sticks with me these days. 

I miss her hugs.

I am trying to be a mom like her. I am trying to say “I love you” more and I am trying to hug more. The problem is that I let things get in my way. I let the silly stuff of everyday life get in my way. I’m working on it. I do hug my kids all the time. I give them kisses and I tell them I love them. I hope that when they are grown with their own children that they still appreciate all of that. I intend to do it all of their lives.

My son is the most affectionate. He will kiss me and tell me “Mom you deserve that.” He will also tell me that he has a secret and then the whispers that he loves me. It makes me feel like all is right in the world. 

Just a side note, last night he said, “Mom I love you more that fish sticks.” The problem there, he has never had a fish stick. Oh well, he is four and the point is, he loves me and in that moment, all was right.

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

Sometimes Breathing is Harder Than It Seems

Change. I’ve written about it over and over again. There are all types of change, some good and some bad. Some are inevitable and some are carefully controlled. I don’t care what kind of change it is, if it is happening in my life then I am uncomfortable to the point that I feel weighted down.

I am weighted down due to much change, all self-inflected.  I hinted about it in an earlier entry. Well it’s here and I won’t say I am overwhelmed, but I will say I am so uncomfortable that I just feel blah.

Before Christmas, we decided that we wanted to move. We searched and found what we feel is the place for our family. Good neighborhood, good school (it’s new so the germs haven’t taken hold. I know I’m kidding myself). The yard is big and we will be able to safely watch and play with our kids. It is a home that I think will feel like home. I hope to feel settled. 

All of December we worked to de-clutter our house and organize. By the way, if anyone needs help de-cluttering, I am really good at it. Our goal was to put our house on the market the first week of January. We had already put a down payment on the new digs but the construction was held until we had a contract on our current place. Ninety days was the time frame in my mind. To say I was stressed would just be silly. I was a complete wreck but I think I held it together. 

Our house went on the market on a Friday. No appointments to look. I know this sounds silly but I viewed it as a catastrophic failure. Saturday morning my phone started ringing. For two days it didn’t stop. We were cast out of our home and relied on the generosity of family and friends to entertain two adults, two kids and a Chiweenie. Sunday night we received the first of four offers. Our house sold in two days. (I don’t know how to type a scream, but imagine me screaming). OUR HOUSE SOLD IN TWO DAYS!!! A true blessing, but the beginning of change. Good change, but for me all change is hard and mostly unwelcomed.

In less than a week, we are moving to an apartment. I have nothing against apartments, I’ve lived in a few. I have never had to live in one with kids. I have never had to figure out how to stuff a whole house in a 1200 square foot space. This will take all of my creative skills. We will manage because it is temporary. It will make the new home feel big for sure.

Change.

For the longest time I didn’t realize that I had a problem with change. When it would show up in my life, I either lost weight, cried or felt out of place. I would have to say that within the past ten or so years, I have come to realize that I detest it and I avoid it. Who am I kidding, I can’t avoid it. I do try.

My mom’s diagnosis was the biggest shocking change. Still is. Since then, change means more. Nine times out of ten, it means that it occurred and my mom wasn’t here to see it.

She has missed a lot.

This week I’ve cried. I’ve wondered why because in my mind I have progressed to a point that I don’t have consecutive sad days. 

Now I know.

I am moving. My mom is missing it. I am building a house. My mom is missing it. She has always been there to help pack, put shelf paper in or just make a small space work. My mom is missing it.

On Tuesday, my son lost his first tooth. He pulled it himself. My mom missed it. My mom is missing it all. Really that isn’t true and I just figured that out. My mom isn’t missing a thing. She is where she is and I am where I am. We aren’t together to share. My mom isn’t missing a thing, I am missing my mom.

My son still prays for her at night. He also prays for snacks, games and toys. He says he remembers her. Time will tell. I remember her and I talk about her. I am her voice.

I’m guessing that life without her will never be easy. Every change, every first will remind me that she isn’t here to share. I miss her.

The last month my mom was here wasn’t easy. Ironically, one specific day was very eye-opening to me. We looked alike but we didn’t see it like others did. On this day, she went to the hospital for a scope of some sort. She started having chest pains. My dad called and said he didn’t know where they were but to come find him. I did. I saw my mom sitting in a hospital bed. She had a sad crocheted blue hat on. There was a big tube coming out of her nose with green stuff flowing. She was coughing, she was in distress. She looked at me and said in a very scratchy voice, “don’t come in.” I didn’t. I sat outside listening. Change was happening and all I could do was listen. It was suspected that she was having a heart attack. I knew better. She finally allowed me in but her oxygen level was low. Nurses, doctors, my dad were all beside her. She was coughing, she was dying. Intubation was suggested to help her breathing. Before she could answer, I spoke up and said no. I said, “no, Mom, you are having a panic attack. All you need to do is breathe. So I am going to stand here and we are going to breathe together.” I looked into her eyes, her sad dying eyes. She looked into mine. In that little room, we started to breathe. It helped a little. A nurse walked in looked at my mom and then looked at me. I will never forget her words. “You have your mother’s eyes.” 

I have my mom’s eyes. 

I never saw it until that day. I pushed it away after and then last week I was getting ready for work when suddenly I saw my mom’s eyes. This time they belonged to me.

No I don’t like change and I guess I never will. It’s going to happen and for the most part I won’t be able to stop it. When my mom left, my life changed forever. I won’t get used to it and I will never like it. But now, I think that when I feel low, when I feel like too much is happening, I’m going to look in the mirror. For the rest of my life, when I look at my eyes, I will see her.

Lots of changes in my future. I guess I need to remember to breathe.

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