I'm not afraid...

She was young...

only 63.

and I miss her so.

(Me and my Mom)

Lately, even more so...
maybe because I find myself in uncharted waters agian...
raising teenagers and a lovley daughter as well...
I have guestions, I could use some motherly advice, or just a
hug and a "you can do it kiddo", in her sweet voice,
on the days when I feel like I am completely failing
100% at everthing.


Words can not describe the ache in my heart still.

It has been 7 years since my Mom passed.

I talk to her, I talk about her...

I tell my kids how she was an amazing dancer.
I tell them that she had the biggest heart,
that she loved writing.

I tell them stories, the ones I can remember anyway.

I tell them because I miss her, I tell them so they don't forget her.
We release balloons on her birthday,
this always makes me smile.

 

She would be  proud of them.

She would think they are kind and beautiful.

I think she would say I was doing a good job...

that I was a good Mama

to my 3 Wishes.

I know she sees how much I love them...

Oh How she loved them!!!

 

I think she would be proud that I am not afraid.

That her death does not define my life,
in that I don't live in fear.
Her death changed my life for certain though.
I miss her, I miss her laugh, I miss holding her hand.

 

I don't think I will get cancer...

in fact I am quite convinced I won't.

It's not a cocky thing...
It's just...
maybe a way to cope...
being positive.
I know that I
 want to live bravely for my kiddos,
and
for her!
 

 

 So many of my family have died of cancer...

It makes me sad and while it does not

define me in my identity, it defines in me

a purpose, a wish perhaps,

that cancer would be no more.
 unrealistic, yes I know...

But wishes come true
 so I wish
 for

 new and better ways to prevent,
 treat and even a cure.

It is a good wish, yes?
 

  I miss her...

and it lingers on and always will.
 

Dance parties in the living room sound good tonight,

just like long ago in a brownstone in Brooklyn

when "Then Came You"

would begin to play

and like two children,

My Mom and Dad would begin to dance and

three little girls joined in

to twirl about.

My favorite memory of all.

No cancer,
 Just dancing and twirling.

 

 



My Mom Patricia

   Six years ago I was on a plane from Orlando, Florida and it could not go fast enough for me to get to my Mother.  She was dying and all I knew is that I had to get to Tucson,  I had to get to her. 
   I hate to think of how my mom suffered but I still do. She went from a 5'4" beautiful woman with the best set of legs I have ever seen to 4'11" and in a wheel chair for the most part.
    I often wonder if that was God's plan, for me NOT to see my Mom in those last moments.  Hard to swallow, but don't we all try to make sense of these kinds of  horrible things that happen to us?
    I had a layover in Texas and called home to check in.  I could tell by my sisters voice that it was bad,but I held on hope that I would make it before she slipped away.  My sisters put the phone to her ear and I remember begging her to hold on, telling her I was on my way, that I was so close.  Please Mom, just hang on. I am coming. Then in a moment that is indescribable, I heard a voice say "it is ok Mom, you can go, I know you are hurting, and it is ok to let go. I love you and it is ok Mom". Was that me saying those things?It couldn't be because all I wanted was to have another one of "our talks", a chance to hug her again, to have tea with her, walk with her... It was not to be.  I did get to see her in July of that year.  I went without my babies and spent the weekend just being with my Mom. It wasn't enough.  Is it really ever enough? I remember asking her if she was scared.  We talked about God,  about her life.
    I was the oldest, yet so protected because of my self destructive past. I think my entire family tried to shelter me from certain things even though I had been in recovery for many years.
    I got to Tucson and as I entered the lobby of the airport I searched my sister's faces for assurance that I was not to late.  I was,  I missed her, I missed her by less than 45 minutes.  I ached. I felt such horrible guilt that I did not get there to hold her hand as she left this world.
   I got to the house and everyone was around her in the bedroom as she lay in her bed. She didn't look as peaceful as I had hoped.  I kept wondering if she suffered until the very end.  Everyone left so I could be alone with the woman who believed in me when no one else did.  I laid down next to her and sobbed, and spoke to her and waited for her to answer. The feeling is not like anything I can describe. I had lost my Dad and Grandmother years before, and that was difficult, nothing prepares you for such loss.
   I have prayed about this for so long, I seek answers about why I was not meant to be there as my Mom left this place.  I believe God knew I could not handle it. That she could not handle it. That I would beg her not to go, to hold on, that I would be selfish.  That I would completely be broken.  He gave me the courage to tell her over the phone that it was all ok.  That I would be ok. 

   My Mom got to meet all of her Grandchildren and she loved them dearly.  We lived far away but she loved being a Grandma.  On her Birthday my kids release balloons to Heaven to celebrate her, my beautiful Mom, A wonderful Grandma, a true Friend, a devoted Wife,  a courageous Woman who fought so hard against cancer and pain.  I miss my Mom more than words can describe. She left us way to young.  I know that she smiles down on us...that she knows how much we miss her and that she will forever be loved and never be forgotten.
   In a few days we will celebrate our Son, Cameron's 12th birthday, the year my mom died he was turning 6. I missed his special day as my sister's and I were planning my Mom's funeral miles away.  This year I am here with him and she is too, in Spirit.
    Months after she passed I was going through some boxes and I found a birthday card that she had sent to me while I was in Grad school... it was one of  those voice recording cards  It was her voice singing happy birthday to me.  My sisters were singing also but I could hear my Mom's voice loud and clear.  God knew I needed to hear her one last time.  That voice that nurtured me, encouraged me, pushed me, loved me...  still loves me even when I feel unlovable.  Thank you Mom, I love you.  I miss you.

Blog Lovin

I had to borrow that phrase...blog lovin,  it just totally describes how I feel about blogging. Every part of it. From sharing my own thoughts and feelings, to reading what's on others minds and hearts. The few blogs that I am following, have taught me new things, inspired me and even bring a smile to my face. It has been so much fun to read other people's blogs and  be brave enough to share a piece of myself.  I have always loved writing, My Mother actually is the one who inspired that in me. She loved writing letters and receiving letters. When I was away at Grad. school, she and I wrote to each other all the time. It inspired me to write my family members and friends. My Mom would say " who doesn't love getting a letter?" Now that she is no longer here, I cherish those saved letters. I think that is one of the reasons I enjoy blogging, it is like writing a letter to someone.   It has been a while since I have stepped outside the box and tried something new.  When you do it makes you feel alive and happy.  So, to anyone who is reading this I hope I inspire in some small way or hopefully just bring a smile...