If It Doesn't Say 'Oven Safe' Don't Put It In the Oven

Sometimes when I sit down at the computer I just don’t have anything to say. After a few minutes of rambling, I find out that I did. I’m hoping that this is one of those times. 

We have started a new year. No surprise, it does after all happen every year. I’m not that big of New Year’s events. I don’t know why really. I’ve read and heard all of the reflections, regrets, good news and bad news from people. I don’t do that and I never have, at least I don’t think I have. Usually I am asleep before 10:30 on New Year’s Eve and the next day is just another day filled with traditional food that I don’t really like. I’m a boring, hum-drum kinda gal. Oh well, it works for me.

This New Year’s Eve was no different. Only this time I felt sort down. Like I said, I don’t typically reflect but this time all I could think of was now when I am asked when she left, I have to say “last year.” That makes it seem like a long time ago.

I said I was tired of grief and I am. I said I would no longer be held hostage by it or my sadness. I am firm in that statement and I think I am doing a really good job. I can’t however, control the moments when I just think of her and miss her. Those moments are more frequent than I let on these days. I think because Monday is by my mom’s terms, “a special day to her.” I always said that it was just another day and her reply was always the same. Monday is my birthday. Whoohoo for me! Happy Birthday to me! Blah, blah, blah. Not so special this year. That phone call won’t come. I’m down about that, but I’m not going to dwell in that place. Still, I’m sad.

When I was little, my mom always made my birthday’s special. If I was interested in a particular thing, she would make a cake that reflected that. I’ve had clown cakes, cartoon character cakes and sometimes they were just plain old cakes. All were vanilla and almost all were made by her hands. Always a special gift from just her. That carried over into my adult years. I could never wait to see what special thing my mom found for me. She always just knew.  One year, she was sick, a cold or something. So I think that my dad and I made my cake. We messed that thing up pretty bad. The cake was good, but we had no idea how to decorate. I think it was white frosting with our version of blue flowers. Really just big ol’ blobs of blue frosting. My mom was upset that she wasn’t able to make it. I understood, but that cake was ugly. Now this is the part where if she were here she would tell me to stop telling tales.

These are the accounts as I remember them. In this particular house, we had sugar ants. Not a few, a lot. If we didn’t clean the counters really good, they would be covered the next morning. The bread lived in a plastic container, everything that would normally sit out was put in the refrigerator. The pantry smelled like mint and everything tasted like mint. I think it was supposed to ward them off. We had little solutions of poison mixed with apple butter all over the place. It was like we lived on a giant mound. My dad is the “I can fix it myself” kind of dad. Drove my mom nuts. He couldn’t seem to get rid of these ants. 

I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that we left the cake out and the ants ate it. Well, you happen to be wrong. That would make too much sense. One of the tricks that my mom used to outsmart the little pests was to put things in the microwave and oven. I’m guessing that something was already in the microwave so my mom put the big plastic container with my globby cake in the oven. Nothing out of the ordinary, it was how we lived at the time. After a day or so, my mom was back to normal and it was time to cook dinner. So like any normal person, she turned the oven on to preheat. I wish I could remember what she was cooking. All I remember is the smell of melting plastic. We all smelled it. The problem was, we weren’t sure where it was coming from. Suddenly my mom reached for the oven and let out a really loud “OH NO!!!” There in the preheated oven was my cake covered with clear melted plastic. It was a sight. She pulled it out and immediately looked at me with a sad expression. She had ruined my birthday cake. Not only was she not able to make it, but she melted it. As far as she was concerned, she couldn’t apologize enough. I on the other hand, I couldn’t stop laughing. You see, my mom didn’t mess up too many times. She wasn’t a perfectionist by definition, but she was “practically perfect in every way.” She’s my mom. My mom did it all. So, as sad as it is to say, when she made a boo boo, we kind of thought it was funny. She usually laughed too. This cake story went down in history. It was retold many times all at her expense. She said she would make me another cake too and as I retell this story I realized that she never did. I forgive her, the story was priceless.

So, this birthday will be bitter sweet. If all goes according to plan, I am going to spend it with myself. It is my personal policy that no matter where I work, I will never work on my day. My plan is to go to the movies, eat lunch and shop a bit. If my mom was here I would ask her to go with me. It was always my mom’s special day because, “it was the day I had you.” 

So it seems that I had a little bit to say. Nothing profound, no breakthrough, no words of wisdom. At the end of the day, I guess I can always find something to say.

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

All I Need in This Chaos is My Little Blanket

Two days after Christmas and I haven’t fallen apart. Either I am about to or I was successful in refocusing my sad feelings. Time will tell.

All in all, it was a nice holiday. We woke to Santa’s gifts, rain and kids smiling and tearing into the presents. We ended the day with a white Christmas (about 5 inches), cold feet and hot chocolate. We don’t get much snow here…ever. In the past five years or so, we have had the two white Christmases ever. It’s unusual but it is beautiful.

Two days later, snow/ice. The kids want to play outside, the puppy won’t potty and my driveway is frozen. Still, it is beautiful and to see my kids up to their knees in the white stuff is priceless. They have had a great holiday. My daughter said it was the best Christmas of her whole life. It’s her fourth so I am worried that the bar has been set too high too early. Again, it doesn’t matter. Our little family made it through our first Christmas…..

So, Thanksgiving…check; Christmas…check. As far as I can tell no more firsts. Oops, first anniversary. I forgot that one. May will be different.

As for December, I am deciding that it was ok. What was my secret? I’m not sure. I miss her that is for sure. I can’t believe she wasn’t here to see the kid’s bounce around on their giant bouncy balls or ride on their “real two wheel scooters.” I still can’t believe she missed it. But, Christmas isn’t about who is physically present. We tried to focus on that. We tried to stay busy, we bought a house. If that doesn’t keep a person busy then I don’t know what will. 

What kind of crazy person buys a house at Christmas? Me, that’s who. It is part of my healing process I think. Bottom line, we moved two years ago rather quickly. Our house sold in three days and we had one day to find a new one. After a long day, we found our current home. We like it and it gave us more space/storage but it has never felt like my forever house. The plan was to move out of state in two years. Little did we know what was going to happen in the first year. That is part of why I need to move. I’ve said it before but it is worth explaining again. Not for your sake, but to try to understand myself. In this house, I feel like I am being chased by my mom’s memory. She didn’t live here, she didn’t really spend many nights here, but I feel like she is in every room of my house. In my kitchen, she made the curtains and organized my cabinets. In my living room, she arranged my furniture. My guest room was her room, it has been changed but we still call it Emmy’s room. She made the curtains in my bathroom and playroom. The other rooms have her touch too but I won’t bore you with the details. You get the point. In each room that I go to, I feel my mom there. I see her face. I see her. I can show you how she walked up my stairs and what she said on the way. I can tell you what she saw for curtains in my family room. She left before we could do that. I can tell you what she said when she hung my curtains in my bathroom and how I told her she better be careful standing on my tub. My mom is in this house and I need to move. 

I am wondering if that is a normal reaction. I am thinking it isn’t. I know people who hold on to every memory. People who latch on to every “thing” that belonged to the loved one. I worry that I’m not doing that. I worry that I am letting go. There is a huge part of me that just doesn’t want to do that. If I let go of “things” am I eliminating her? I don’t think so, but I’m not sure. My mom made me a lap quilt. It’s the only one she ever made. That’s the only “thing” I need. She made it with so much love. I feel it when I hold it, which is never often. I can’t. I washed it. She said she pricked her finger and bled on it a little. I couldn’t deal with that so I washed it. When I was folding it, I looked at her stitching. I can tell where she started and where she finished. I can tell when she started to get sicker. Maybe that’s why I can’t hold it for very long. I want to, it just isn’t time yet.

I am not attached to much in the way of material things. I am attached to memories and people. My mom was a very important part of my life. Maybe at my age, she was too important. Every move I made, I ran by her. It was like I had to get her thumbs up before I could do anything. Probably not the healthiest way to be, but she was my best friend and I valued her in every way. These past seven plus months, I have had to learn how to not rely on her to tell me if a decision was right or wrong. I’ve needed her. That’s not true, but it would have made deciding to move easier. Actually she knew we were going to move. She just didn’t know where.

I find myself wondering who is going to tell me how to set up my new home. Me. Who is going to tell me what kind of curtains to make? Me. Who is going to tell me how to set up my kitchen so that it flows? Me. I don’t want to do that alone. Sure, my husband will help, but we have both looked to her to make sense out of our self-imposed chaos. 

It’s good that we are moving. It’s good that we are going to build a home from scratch and make it ours. It will be hard and I am sure there will be tears, but we have to do it. For me, it is the healthy thing to do. In the end, it will be our forever home that we will continue to raise our babies in. It will be the home that holds our memories. No matter what, I’ll still have my quilt.

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

The following link belongs to my friend BJ Timoner. He lost his dad when he was only 5. On January 2, 2013 is his going to start his walk across America (twice) in the name of pancreatic cancer awareness and research. He is my Purple Pal and he is a real hero. Please take a look at his website. 

http://www.bjwalksamerica.com/

Has Anyone Seen Me? I've Been Looking.

This past week I have been reading a lot, and I mean a lot of stories about how loved ones have been taken by pancreatic cancer and how this Christmas is so hard. That’s my problem. It just hit me a few minutes ago.

Let me back up.

As you all know, this has been a hard year. I don’t think I have hidden any of that. A few weeks ago I really felt like I had turned a corner. Like my grief was over and I just miss my mom……a bunch. I don’t feel like I am crying out of sadness, just crying because she isn’t here to visit with. The people around me noticed a change and I felt it. We have taken steps to move forward and to start fresh.

Then about a week or so ago, I started seeing stories on Facebook. Remember how much I dislike that social media. Well I have made it part of my life, at least the fundraising and small business part. So I have to keep track. In doing that, I get caught up in people’s stories. Some are good, but the one’s I have focused on are those related to pancreatic cancer and how it did to people what it did to my family. The stories are mostly the same. Some just last longer than others. A few are still playing out. So every day while I eat my breakfast, I read these stories. Monday of this week, I started to feel really sad, like I had slipped back into grief. Yesterday was the worst. Everything made me cry and I even started patching the holes I have made in my bubble. Yesterday I was grieving for my mom. I didn’t know why because two days earlier I wasn’t. About an hour ago I realized what it was. When I sit down to eat, I scroll through the New Feed on Facebook. Once click here, one click there and I am prying into someone’s story and for that moment, I am back, sitting beside my mom holding her hand. For that moment, I am looking at my mom and wondering if she knew I was there and wishing just one more smile would light up her face. 

I am a silly girl. 

Facebook is, and this is difficult to say, a blessing in a few ways. Facebook is also an evil waste of my time. I’m not sad because of it. It is my fault for clicking on the icon and it is my fault for reading. I can’t do that anymore. Oh I am interested and I even message people that touch me. That isn’t the problem. When I read, I get personally involved and I forget that it isn’t my story I am reading. I take on the emotions of the authors, I try to figure out their problems. Does that make me co-dependent? I can’t change anyone’s grief any more than I can change mine. They have to vent, cry and move on at their own pace and in their own way. 

I turned a corner a few weeks ago. I took my first steps forward toward my life without my mom. That puts me in the driver’s seat and that is a nice place to be. I’m a good driver. But I took those steps knowing that there would be some back-pedaling every now and then. I figured it would be a holiday, anniversary or special event that would trigger it. I didn’t expect it to be a social media that I fought long and hard against. My fault. So, how am I going to change this? I don’t know. I need this media. I have raised over $3000 and mostly it is due to Facebook. I can’t shut Million Dollars for Mom down. I know there is one person, one company out there that hasn’t seen my page who has the desire and financial means to make a difference. I have to keep going. I won’t fail my mom. To say that I won’t read anyone’s story again is just silly. There are people out there who are going or are about to go through what I did. I can’t change that, but I can tell them what I know, if they want. And if I can make just one person feel like they aren’t alone then it will be worth it. What I can say is that I won’t linger. I can’t spend my time stuck in a pancreatic cancer driven grief funk. I have to move on. I think I can do that while accomplishing my mission.

So, this isn’t a post about how sad I am and how I am dreading Christmas. I love and miss my mom very much. I always will. The truth here is that Christmas isn’t about her. She, like the rest of us was/is just another person present at the celebration of Christ’s birthday. Nope she won’t be here and I can’t stand it. But I will be here and my kids and my husband. We will miss her, but she told me to cry for a little while and then move on. Next Tuesday I will feel the void but the day will go on. We will do the same things we did last year. I will cry, I will remember her.

When Christmas is over, I am going to continue to patch my bubble. I am going to continue to evaluate what is healthy for my family. I am going to continue on my journey. I’m looking for me. I think I know where I am but I have some other places to peek into. 

I don’t know what is in store for me. I don’t know 100% for sure that I am going to keep going on Facebook or even this blog. A year and a half ago I lived in a nice bubble with my family. A year and a half ago pancreatic cancer shook my bubble and messed it all up. I don’t like messes and it has been messy too long. I am cleaning. Along the way, I will find me and I will make some decisions. We shall see.

Thank you for reading and thank you for letting me work through my grief. I do hope you all have a very Merry Christmas!

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

It May Have Been Nine Degrees, But It Was the Best Time of Their Lives

I was sitting at a stop light the other morning and I looked over at the people in the car next to me. Now I don’t know what the reality was, but here is my take. There was a young lady in the driver’s seat and an older lady in the passenger’s side. I am sure it was a mother and her daughter going to do their Christmas shopping together. They were smiling and chatting away. All I could think of was that here was a daughter with her mom. I don’t get jealous so that wasn’t my feeling. I just found myself wondering if that daughter knew what she had sitting beside her in her car. Did that daughter appreciated the love, wisdom, company that her mom was giving her that day? I do this a lot. I notice mom’s and their daughters. I miss that. I have this urge to walk up to them and ask if they love each other the way my mom and I did. I don’t do it because one, it isn’t my business and two, I don’t want security to ever be called on my account. But that is where I am right now. I am wondering how much people appreciate their moms and how many of those people tell their moms how they feel about them. I am lucky. My mom died and I am one hundred percent sure that she knew how I felt and that I was and am grateful for every second that I had with her. How many of you can say that? 

Over the weekend my son and I went to the store to buy a few things. Cards were on the list. I pushed the cart up to the card display, my son had his snack and he was oblivious to what I was doing. I was looking for a special Christmas card for the second most special mom. What I didn’t realize was that to my right were the cards from daughters to moms. I just stared. I felt that oh so familiar feeling well up inside my stomach. You know the one, it rises to your chest, throat and then suddenly it is just pouring out of your eyes. I took a deep breath and said to my son, “I can do this.” He crunched his crackers. It became very obvious that I couldn’t do it. So I thought I would take a different approach. I grabbed the handle of the cart and made a loop around the display. That didn’t work. So I stood there in front of the cards that I will never buy again crying. I stood in Target with my son and I cried. I cried over a card. I realized that I had lingered a little too long so I wiped my eyes and left. 

It has become obvious to me that I need a guide to grief. I need someone to write down a list of all the things that are going to trigger my tears. I cried over a card! I know, I know. It wasn’t about the card. But seriously, I stood in a store and cried over a card.

 I didn’t buy the special card that I set out to buy.  So indulge me for a moment. I am not a poet and I don’t think I am a great writer at all. I can't go back to that card display so I will try to say what I hoped one would say.

From the moment I saw the smile on my mom’s face after you told her you would take care of us, I knew with the exception of the events, everything would be okay. I knew you meant what you said to her and the fact that you gave her such peace had meant so very much to me. You are the real deal of moms. You clearly know what you are doing and I am grateful that you know when to “mother” me. I am not an easy person to handle. I think the stubbornness I get from my mom. It has been such a shocking void and you have said and done just the right things at the right moments. I can’t tell you how many times I have hung up the phone and felt the love of a mom. You are Mom2. Mom would be so proud of you. So this isn’t a fancy worded card with a mushy meaning. This is just a daughter who lost her mom telling her Mom2 thank you and I love you. If mom can’t be here I am glad you are. I hope you know how much she loved you.

Now, I want to say outside of the usual, I have had a great weekend. My goal has been to work fun back into my family. That is hard because of the empty space that is always present. Every happy moment I have had has been shared with my mom. So fun comes with sadness. I think that is normal but working at enjoying myself has never been something I have had to do. 

This weekend we went to see Merry Madagascar and a local resort. It was a building full of ice sculptures. It was a nine degree building full of colorful ice fun. Oh and a slide. My kids said they had the best time of their lives. 

The next night we went to a little airport in our neighborhood to see hot air balloons fire up the burners in time with Christmas music. We toured the airport and were able to look inside all of the little planes. My kids said they had the best time of their lives.

Yesterday we went to a gingerbread house decorating party. We made two of the most beautiful houses I have ever seen. My kids saw a newborn calf, played in tons of leaves and “hunted” pecans. They said they had the best time of their lives. 

I am seeing a trend here and I like it. It may not have been the best time of my life, but it was the best time because my kids smiled, laughed and they felt it was the best time. I know every day won’t be like that, but it is my responsibility to try. They can’t be in charge yet so it is up to me to decide that we are going to move on, enjoy whatever time God has for us and live each day the best we can. I know, there will be those days where I am at a store, driving around or just sitting and I will be flooded with memories of my mom and I will fall backwards. But what I know now that I didn’t know seven months ago, each stumble is necessary if I ever hope to go forward. It’s how we learn, right?

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

They Were Big Ol' Purple Balloons and They Were Beautiful!

Another “down” day. At this point these days are getting in the way and they are kind of taking me by surprise. My husband told me yesterday that he has noticed that I am not as pathetic as I was. It’s okay, I know I’ve been pathetic. He backed up and said that for a while I was spending 100% of my time being sad and now he is starting to see the not-so-sad me come back in the picture. I would say I am making progress.

Still, there are those days. Those gray days that I can’t run from.

Today didn’t start out to be one of those days, but it is sure ending up that way. I can’t even say that it is a grief kind of feeling that I have. I think my grief has changed over to empty. Empty isn’t good for me but as long as I stay busy I seem to muddle on. 

Christmas wishes are being made. Someone suggested that each day we say what we wish for. Not presents, but real genuine wishes for us or someone else. I’ve been thinking about that. So here goes.

I wish my mom was here.

Tell me you didn’t think I would have more than that?

That’s it. 

I really don’t need to wish for anything else. I pray for a lot, but I wish for only one thing. Is Christmas going to be like this for the rest of my life? Am I going to hurt so much that it makes my throat tighten and the tears build in my eyes? 

My mom. I bet your mom was/is like mine. She could do anything. Right about now she would be calling me and complaining that I haven’t given her my Christmas list. I would tell her to buy for my babies and she would say, “Carole, you are my daughter and I am going to buy for you too. It may not be a lot, but you have to have Christmas under the tree too.” That’s what she would say. I wish my phone would ring and someone would say that. You know, my mom’s best friend is looking out for me. She is an absolute angel. My mom loved her so much that she said she would share me. Well, Mom2 calls or texts at exactly the right time…always. She says what my mom would say. She knows her and it is the best feeling to have someone that cares so much checking up on me. I get to be mothered. 

I hear my mom’s  voice all the time. Not in a crazy way though. I hear her words. Things that she said not long ago. Sometimes I hear the scratchy voice she had at the end. I hear her say, “You came.” I know what that means and that is all that matters. I hear her words to my kids, I hear her booming voice, I hear her laughter. I hear her. Will I hear her next year, or ten years or twenty years? I’ll let you know.

I wonder if where I am at right now is where she would want me to be. I know she would say, “Drink water if you are going to cry some more.” I would laugh and the tears would stop. But I do wonder if I am the person today that she thought I should be. I don’t think so but I am working on it. I am hard on myself, but I am not who I am going to be and I know it. I’ll let you know when I get there.

Just to update a little, my doors aren’t opening anymore and the flutter in my shoulder is gone. Again, I know what it all was but just in case I was wrong, I will say my mom made her point. 

Yep, this holiday is going to be tough, already is. We are working extra hard to push the sadness away. We are all decorated, we have been looking at Christmas lights and we go to Christmas tree lots just to look at the trees (cedar isn’t my friend). But, for some reason, my kids are talking about Emmy a lot. I talk about her, but not all the time. They are asking about her and making her cards and ornaments. We tied those things to four big purple balloons and let them go. My kids jumped up and down and yelled “We love you Emmy.” I cried. They believe those balloons went to Heaven. I won’t ever tell them different. 

Emmy/Mom lives in God’s house. She is the lucky one.

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