CAROLE DENISE!

Tragedies happen all the time. Some may think that they are only considered tragedies if they happen on a large scale. I happen to think that anything that jars your life, changes your direction without permission in a way that can only be viewed as tragic can be considered a tragedy.

  

A bombing, an explosion or a diagnosis of an incurable disease. These are all tragedies, some just have more people involved. Before I delve into my own self-evaluation, I want to say that I hate tragedies and I wish we could avoid all of them. I pray for the people in Boston and also for the people in the tiny town of West, Texas. I also pray for all of my PC family. We have all experienced our own very similar levels of tragedy.

It is a given that there will be more. It is a given that people will die and those of us left here will be awarded the difficult, often impossible task of making sense and moving on.

The question is, how does one do that? That has been my task.

How am I doing that?

I’m sure there is more to it but I believe I can give much of the credit to my very patient husband. He might not agree but I do think that if it wasn’t for him, I would be sitting in a corner wondering what to do. He lost his dad a while ago, he knows what I have been going through. I think that has helped. He also knows the relationship that I had with my mom. He never made fun or criticized. He embraced it and became part of our little group

.

My mom absolutely loved my husband. He was a son to her and she loved to tell the story of how we met, fell in love and how he “saved” me from a less desirable relationship. He likes to say that he stole me away. Twenty years later, he still says the same thing.

I also believe that my friends and my Mom2 have saved me from the constant wallowing that I tend to get stuck in. I have met many people this last year, oddly enough through the social media that I loathe. Two stand out. They feel like family. They know how I feel and as sad as that is, it is so very comforting to this silly girl. Someday I hope to meet them and give them a hug. I hope you two know who you are.

As the anniversary gets closer, I find that I am having more trouble. I hate change and it seems that this year has been full of all the evil that lies within that word. 

Why should that day, that very terrible day be any different? Yes it was the day my mom breathed her last breath. It’s not like it was a surprise. I believe she left days before. Still, I’m sad. I’m tired of being sad.

I don’t know what I expected this milestone to feel like. I’m not there so maybe I’ll figure it out. I do know that I never expected to be dealing with this at this point in my life. I bet everyone says the same thing, “I thought we had more time.” Well I did and we didn’t.

So strange, one minute you are chugging along and then next, a doctor is saying there is no hope, then the next you are at the final gala, remembering. Oh the memories. That’s all we have when they leave. Good thing and I am so very glad for that.

I long for the advice my mom would so willingly give. I long for a hug, a smile and a simple pat on my hand. I would even welcome the heart stopping way she would say “CAROLE DENISE!” Funny, just typing that makes me shudder. It almost always meant that I did something I shouldn’t have. The good thing is that most of the time when I walk through the memories I find myself smiling. That is definitely progress. My tears come when I let myself remember how she went from a lively, energetic and self-sufficient mom to a quiet, exhausted and dependent victim of pancreatic cancer. That’s the tragedy here. Surprisingly enough, it isn’t that she left, it is the pain and suffering that lead up to it. Most PC victims go through it. Tragic.

This has been a dark and lonely year that I had hoped would never come. Through it all, through all of the tears, I have kept my feet moving. I think that is the key. This year isn’t over and I really don’t know how the next couple of weeks will play out. I intend to just live the best I can. We will see.

Life goes on whether we like it or not. It’s what we do that separates us from our own successes and our heartbreaking despair. 

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

I Am Lacking Gumption and I Won't Pee in the Woods

I seem to be at a loss for words these days. I know it’s hard to believe, but sometimes I just don’t know what to say.

I knew this past year was going to be hard. I think I didn’t have a clue how hard. I’ve marked each milestone and analyzed every feeling, emotion and event. Today I don’t know where I am in my process. Maybe that’s why I feel a little quiet. The problem is that I don’t know where I am supposed to be right now. Should I be over her death? Should I be hanging on to every moment spent without her? There isn’t a clear picture here. 

The fact is, I am not over her death and I don’t hang on to every moment that I spend here without her. 

In the beginning it was constant. I was sad and I was lost. After a while I was sad but not every second of the day.  Now it comes in waves and it comes when I’m not expecting it. This is just a guess but I think at some point, way down the road, I will only feel sad on certain days. In a strange way, that makes me sad.

The other day we were cleaning up our video camera. I am a picture person so looking at videos isn’t something that I typically do. My husband told me my mom was on the camera. Without thinking, I started watching. It was my children’s third birthday party. It was the last my mom would see.

There she was, doing what she always did. There on that tiny screen, was my mom. So full of life, so full of energy. She was alive. She was smiling.

Without my realizing it, the tears started flowing. All I could say was, “there she is.”

I say I don’t need pictures or videos. All I have to do is close my eyes. I see her, I hear her. I loved that video. I hadn’t seen her in almost a year. She was beautiful.

I have not seen my mom in almost a year. Wow! Those are words I never thought I would type, say or even think. I have not seen my mom in almost a year. How many times can I type that before the reality hits. I can’t tell you how powerful that sentence is at this moment. More tears. The words are just hanging. The emptiness is back and my stomach feels like it dropped. Until this very moment, I have not thought about how long it has been since I’ve seen her. 

For the second time I say, I am at a loss for words. 

I don’t know if watching that video was the right thing to do. It doesn’t matter because I watched. I don’t feel any worse but I also don’t feel any better. I don’t know how I feel. I do know that when I was watching, I didn’t see anyone else except her. She was the main character. 

I miss my mom.

We talked every day of my life.

I don’t feel like analyzing my feelings here. They are whatever they are and all I can do it put one foot in front of the other in the hopes that I make progress. 

I do know that I am disappointed in myself. I am not looking for pity or even a pep-talk. I feel how I feel. 

Over the past couple of months I have let go of Million Dollars for Mom. I haven’t asked for money, ideas or help. I haven’t worn purple much and I have avoided the tragic stories that sound identical to mine. I retreated inside my bubble. I’ve been oddly warm and cozy. I could stay here but then the disappointment that I feel would eat at me. I’ve let a lot of people down and I am so sorry. 

A million dollars is the goal. Someone said it was a lofty goal. I think it is a necessary number. It means more than anyone will ever know. I lost my momentum, I’ve lost my drive. Somehow I have to get it back. I have no clue.

My friend is walking across America in the name of PC awareness and research. He has momentum and drive. I can’t and really don’t want to do what he is doing. It takes a special person to commit to that. Also, this silly girl doesn’t pee in the woods or stay in motels. He is making a difference in a dramatic way. I am proud of him and I hope he can bottle some of his gumption and loan it to me. He is an inspiration.

No, I’m not going to walk across America. I am going to keep asking and I am going to raise a million dollars. I hope that once that goal is reached, someone will be able to use it to find a cure. PC scares me, but it also drains me. I’m tired of it and I have to get moving again. 

I miss my mom and if PC had not invaded her body, she would be here to tell me which school my kids should go to. She would be picking out fabric for my house, she would be alive. I hate all cancers but mostly this one. It’s evil and almost 100% of the time, it kills.

If you haven’t donated, please click on the link below and do so. If you have donated, do it again. Give until it hurts. I am.

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