...and I can still feel her hands. They were warm til the end... but so frail. The hands that dressed me as a child. The hands that rolled dough to make Dad his favourite apple pie. The hands that wrote thoughtful notes in that handwriting of hers that was always so neat and even. The hands that craddled my daughter while she rocked her to sleep and held her for hours, rubbing my baby's back. The hands that comforted so many people as they struggled with loss, poverty, and all forms of hardships we are made to endure as we make our way through life.
I can still see her lying on that bed with Pepe the parrot tucked in with her (he now sleeps with Chicklet every night).
I hear her breathe... that's how I measured if it was going to be a good day or if she was going to be in a lot of pain.
I remember the feel of the chair at the end of her bed. The chair I slept in every night in case she needed something, to be there to help the orderlies on the night shift when came time to change her and shift her to the other side.
I remember...
My mother was my safe harbor... she comforted me when I was sick with Chicken pox and had to stay home while I could hear my friends playing outside. She was my rock when I thought maybe something was wrong with my baby's precious heart. She stood by me when my marriage fell apart.
I still need her.
I still miss her.
I posted this song the night my mother joined the ranks of the angels...
I had a visitor the other day. And she brought me to a beautiful place, which gave me a glimpse of a beautiful heart (Sgt. Dub, in a way I have you to thank for that - please stay safe).
I've discovered something over the months I've been doing this "blogging thingy". I started doing it in September 2006 to put some of my thoughts out there, to share with a circle of friends.
My circle has gotten bigger, despite the fact that I'm not the most diligent of bloggers, and I suck at visiting everyone, everyday. Some days I have the energy and time to respond to all the comments, others, I must say I do not. If any one has ever felt slighted by that, I apologize.
Life gets in the way. I have good days, I have bad ones.
I've come across some wonderful people, many make me laugh, some touch my heart, a few make me think. Many of us have never met, yet we pray for each other, cry together, laugh and cheer each other up.
I'm adding a link to my sidebar, but I wanted to make sure everyone who comes through here and reads this post pays this sweet young woman, who shows strength and shares her heart willingly.
To her Mom, any time dear Debbie... mothers stick together.
My moods in the past few months have ranged from silly and giggling , all the way to doom and dread. That usually happens when I take a peek at the laundry room and decide that maybe we should just move to somewhere warm, join a nudist colony (considering the picture on the left, me thinks the Chicklet might not mind) and be done with the need for laundry.
Whenever I start taking this notion too seriously I remind myself that they would probably make me give up shoes, sandals and boots (Oh the Humanity!) and that I cannot do. My regular reader has witnessed my fondness for footwear on more than one occasion (Guys, I promise the slideshow is coming... Aunt Bertha and Uncle Gus have nothing on this one!).
But in all actuality, most of the time I just feel an overwhelming void. And the impending shadow of Mothers Day is making it worse.
You really don't have to read on.. you might just want to skip to the video.. or hit the next blog button. What comes next isn't cheerful and is just a form of catharsis for me. I am decidedly not writing it to elicit any sympathy, but because I have to get it out. To those of you who have reached out to me in the past few days, knowing, I thank you. I love you much...
Since Mom's death almost 4 months ago, I've been covering up a lot of sadness. Trying to live, survive, move on, be brave, make people laugh and all that crap (the life goes on version of "rub a little dirt on it... and walk it off").I feel like the only thing keeping me tied to the real world most of the time is my beautiful, sparkling and precious daughter.
Every once in a while I get a good day, but sadness always gets to me sooner or later (usually the former). It lurks like the monster under the bed or the creepies in the closet.
I can't set foot in my parents' house without feeling sick to my stomach. There are too many memories there. And although you might think it to be comforting to be surrounded by memories and things that are associated with a loved one who has passed, for me, in this case.. it just isn't. Not so many of them at once. That was my mother's house, it feels hollow and dead without her. She hadn't lived in the house since last summer when we she started getting sick and had to be rushed to the hospital. But somehow, it still felt like she was there.
I've gone through the motions of every holiday and special occasion that was important to my mother since her death...
I went through the motions of Valentine's Day because of Chicklet... but to me, it was just the one-month anniversary of my mother's death.
I was grateful for my ex-mother-in-law who hosted a party for my daughter's birthday. I just couldn't do it, she knew... I'm certain of it. She knows the pain of losing a mother, she's gone through it herself.
The time Chicklet and I got to spend with my sweet friend Mary and the ever charming and darling Alex (aka Bug) meant more to me than she could have ever imagined. I Love you Flygirl. I was grateful to wake up in a hotel, on a trip with my Chicklet on Easter morning, just the two of us... it was unlike anything we had ever done while Mom was alive. I don't think my father and I really wanted to celebrate his birthday either... Birthdays were Mom's thing, she got the cake or made it, and made sure we had cards to give. But, Chicklet and I drove together to Dad's house (I can't get used to calling it that) because Mom would have wanted me to, and Chicklet wanted to give her Papou a birthday kiss.
St. Paddy's day was an exception because it has always been big for me and wasn't part of Mom's main holidays. So, that one holiday, I gladly participated in. It was wonderful seeing Chicklet's enthusiasm for it. And she and I started new traditions. Life goes on ... we rubbed some dirt on it and walked it off.
And now I find myself on the eve of Mother's Day... Chicklet has made some presents for me at school, and I know they will be beautiful and I will cherish them.
I miss Mom but I know she would give me hell for moping on Mother's Day. I'll just focus on Chicklet's joy and hold her tight.
I really do apologize if you actually read through this and it harshed your mellow. Rub a little dirt on it.. and walk it off.
We may as well laugh... Mom loved to...
So, as Mother's Day is almost upon us...
I haven't met a mother yet who hasn't felt that eye-twitch... the one often triggered my a small child calling out repeatedly "mommy... mommy... mommy... mom... mom... momma... momma.." a la Stewie Griffin. Or the one you get as you're driving through traffic, late for work or an important appointment, or exhausted from a long day at work dealing with moronic questions and requests you want to answer by using the magic 8-ball... and your child finds the long lost whistle and proceeds to blow it with unadulterated glee as if heralding the coming of the Messiah. You know that whistle... the one that had been wedged and forgotten in between the cushions of the back seat along with a penny, a couple of Goldfish crackers (No!! Don't you put that in your mouth!!!), some mysterious goop - which may have been a grape in a previous life (they do not always turn into raisins it seems), and a rock. The plain ordinary rock that your child has decided holds magical powers as it is a vestige of an ancient druid temple and has found it's way across the ocean in some Viking's tunic (try explaining to your child that Druids and Stonehenge are not contemporary to Vikings.. it's a lost cause) ... yeah.. THAT rock! At that precise moment, your head feels like it's going to spin around like Linda Blair's and fall right off like the guy's head in that mint commercial. You just want to scream... and shove the child off the ice.
And then.. your child giggles... she tells you she loves you... your heart melts... and she lives to see another day.
A true Mommy moment.
Love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes!
and pride
