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.
No comments:
Post a Comment