Happy birthday Mom

Today is my mother's birthday. It's the first one we celebrate without her. My mother was a giving person, she worked for Franciscan monks and managed their affairs for about 30 years. During that time she worked with them in their charitable endeavours. I remember spending time in the kitchen at the monastery with Mom and brother Rene who was tireless in his efforts to feed the poor in our town. Around the holidays, they would gather donations from local supermarkets and citizens and we would make Christmas packages for as many families as we could. There was a lot... but we always could have used more. I learned a great deal from Mom and brother Rene... hopefully I'll pass it on to my Chicklet. This year, as I did last year and for the past few years, the small Christmas gift my company gave all employees will be used to buy a complete Christmas dinner for a family in need and a few other supplies. As much as I need the extra cash, my pantry is full... and so is my heart. So, in memory of my mother and brother Rene I ask that you give. All it'll cost is a few minutes on Freerice. If you can afford to, think about your local food banks, drop off a new toy or a book for a needy child, spread Christmas spirit... smile at the people you meet. Je t'aime Maman... Merci pour tout. Love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes!

The nudge...

I haven’t actually written anything really in quite a while. I’ve been keeping to myself a lot, especially in blogland, mostly because I’ve been just so tired lately. The kind of tired where I fall asleep in front of the boobtube while hanging out on the chesterfield (cause I never fall asleep on The Couch), only to wake up around 3AM, turn off the boobtube and proceed to fall back asleep instead of heading off to bed… sheesh! The only contact I’ve held with some of the most wonderful people God saw fit to grace the earth with lately has been through my H&H family, an e-mail group I belong to (thanks to Queen Dana) and the sillies sent sporadically, but somehow just at the right time, by one of my cyber buds (cause it’s all about Jo). So… I was possessed last night (yeah, I know... and NO, this is not a spooky or clever Halloween story) by a strong and overwhelming urge to reach out to a friend who’s been going through a lot lately. And although I’m the last person to interfere with someone’s requests for privacy and quiet time (well, unless I feel I need to shove a little), something made me include this person in an e-mail because I got this feeling she needed a massive giggle. Maybe reaching out to someone who needs support makes our own problems more bearable. I heard back from my friend and Soul Sister by choice and made my way over to her blog at her behest today, and I read yesterday's post. What I found brought a rush of emotion and tears that not even the strongest dam (no, not the Duck) could hold back (shut up, I’m not a softie). As angry as I was, deep and profound sadness overtook me. You can poopoo (yes, it’s a word and I’m using it) the idea of fate or kismet all you want. But I tell you, there was something nudging me when I wrote my response to a quite cheeky joke a sweet friend sent to the lot of us fortunate enough to be included in her silliness. I hesitated for a long time to hit send, and every time I would take this person’s e-mail off the reply list, my fingers would start typing her name again and pulling her e-mail address up. This went on for a good 5 minutes. And for me to sit on what I thought was a clever comeback for 5 minutes is no small feat. – Now, don’t you roll your eyes at me… yes, sometimes my comebacks are clever and if you contradict me I’ll be forced to sneak up on you in the middle of the night and scare the shite out of you by banging a cowbell (testing, testing) over your head… Now, I was saying… I now know what, or rather, I know who nudged me. Mom. Yesterday morning, I was thinking of my Soul Sisterfriend Sue and her journey as she accompanies her friend Dee in her final days. I wondered out loud how she must be doing. You see, Dee is fighting a losing battle with cancer but is serene as she has lead a good life, loved much and leaves quite a legacy. And then yesterday evening, as The Chicklet was eating her pre-trick-or-treat dinner, I quickly checked my e-mails. There it was… the cheeky joke. Again, it reminded me of my Soul Sisterfriend, and the reply just typed itself as did her name in the "reply to" section… So here’s how I see it: Mom, having gone through so much of what I can only imagine what Dee is going through, raised this to my attention. It’s that simple. I’ve given up trying to rationalize any of this and I’ve given in to believing. Leave it to Mom to use a chicken joke to do this… For a close to a month now, I’ve been wearing a necklace that belonged to my mother, just a simple gold chain with a delicately carved cross. It gives me comfort, partly because it was hers… and partly because it reminds me there is a higher power. I’ve asked Mom to keep an eye on them. I pray for Dee’s daughter Renee and hold her in my heart because I know what it’s like to watch your mother’s body wilt as the soul is about to embark on the one journey we should all live our lives in preparation of. I pray for Dee. I remember how Mom held on to life, not because she feared death, but because she loved living and probably hadn’t given everything she had left to give yet. I pray for Sue, my Soul Sisterfriend… she’s a strong woman, has been through so much and has brought me no end of smiles over the many months I’ve known her. Today, another link in the chain… someone beloved sent me this: It is so easy to complain!!! There was a blind girl who hated herself because she was blind. She hated everyone, except her loving boyfriend. He was always there for her. She told her boyfriend, 'If I could only see the world, I will marry you. One day, someone donated a pair of eyes to her. When the bandages came off, she was able to see everything, including her boyfriend. He asked her, 'Now that you can see the World, will you marry me?' The girl looked at her boyfriend and saw that he was blind. The sight of his closed eyelids shocked her. She hadn't expected that. The thought of looking at them the rest of her life led her to refuse to marry him. Her boyfriend left her in tears and days later wrote a note to her saying: 'Take good care of your eyes, my dear, for before they were yours, they were mine.' This is how the human brain often works when our status changes. Only a very few remember what life was like before, and who was always by their side in the most painful situations. Life Is a Gift from God!!! Today before you say an unkind word -Think of someone who can't speak. Before you complain about the taste of your food - Think of someone who has nothing to eat. Before you complain about your husband or wife - Think of someone who's crying out to God for a companion. Today before you complain about life - Think of someone who went too early to heaven. Before you complain about your children - Think of someone who desires children but they're barren. Before you argue about your dirty house someone didn't clean or sweep -Think of the people who are living in the streets. Before whining about the distance you drive think of someone who walks the same distance with their feet. And when you are tired and complain about your job -think of the unemployed, the disabled, and those who wish they had your job. But before you think of pointing the finger or condemning another - Remember that not one of us is without sin and we all answer to one MAKER. And when depressing thoughts seem to get you down - Put a smile on your face and Thank GOD you're alive and still around. Okay Mom, got it… Love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes!

The assignment

The wonderfully wicked Kyra tagged with her own MeMe… It took me a while… I guess the point is to give old and faithful readers a walk down memory lane.. and new and cherished readers a glimpse into my journey. Here goes. First, I have to post the rules.. So, here they are: Go back through your archives and post the links to your five favorite blog posts that you've written. ... but there is a catch: Link 1 must be about family. Link 2 must be about friends. Link 3 must be about yourself, who you are... what you're all about... Link 4 must be about something you love Link 5 can be anything you choose. I think this is a great way to circulate some of the great older posts everyone had written, return to a few great places in our memories and also learn a little something about ourselves and each other that we may not know. Post your five links and then tag five other people. At least TWO of the people you tag must be newer acquaintances so that you get to know each other better.... and don't forget to read the archive posts and leave comments! Link 1: Family… it starts with a mother’s love Link 2: I made friends for life accompanying Mom on her journey … and I grew more than I ever thought possible. Link 3: I relived memories with this one… Cruisin… Link 4: A post about something I love… well.. love! What we should all strive for. Link 5: This post earned a me a very humbling nod… a post of the Day by The Rising Blogger… so here it is: a day in my life . As much as I love Kyra, and want to do the whole thing as per the rules (who am I kidding.. rules?? HA!). Besides, I don’t think there’s anyone left to tag. But, if you find yourself wondering why you started blogging in the first place.. what kept you blogging.. this is the MeMe for you. Hope you enjoy, Love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes!

Being at The Right Place... a helping hand...

I visited a new friend’s blog recently. The funny thing is, we have both only left each other one comment on each other’s blogs but for some reason, I felt an instant connection. Dave is a kindred spirit and his post came along at just the right time in my life. Thank you Dave. His post was about kindness, short, simple and to the point. I’ve gone back to read it several times. It reminded me again me that in our words, we can, either by making someone laugh (glad you got a chuckle from your visit here dearest Dave), by sharing of yourself... offer a helping hand, sometimes without even knowing it. And we connect. As you know dear regular reader, my mother passed away one week and a day ago. Getting the chance to care for her the last few weeks of her life have meant the world to me. She did everything for me at the beginning of my life and it came full circle as I was there to do everything for her at the end of her life. I may have found a new calling, one I didn't pursue when I went back to school. I don't know that I'll make any dramatic changes in my life in regards to this but I've been told I should have been a nurse. I have always had great admiration for nurses.. I guess in my experience with my mother I've come to the realization that when the doctors don't know what to do anymore, the nurses take over... a paliative care nurse is the hand that soothes.. the hand that brushes away the tears... the hand that steadies you as you take painful difficult steps. My cousin is a paliative care nurse. She is truly phenomenal person. So are the wonderful people that worked with me to care for my mother. Love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes!

Rest

My mother has joined the ranks of the Angels. Her soul was freed from a body that caused her a great deal of pain at 13h35 this afternoon. I was there to hold her hand and kiss her as she passed. She is now with the ones she loves who have gone before her and prepared her place. I feel her guiding me in the right direction. Thank you for all the kind and wonderful words of love and support... I love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes!

It's quite strange really...

My mother lies dying and she fights for every second. People walk by her room, stop to ask how she is... come to stand by her... hold her hand... and I find myself comforting them. My aunt, my mother's friend, my great aunt who sees two of her sisters in their dying moments when she looks upon her niece lying on that bed, weighing less than 50 pounds. It's my place in the world, it's who I am. They wonder what is holding her back. 'That's between her and God' I say. 'She'll tell him when it's time to go.' Mom worked for the Franciscan monks for thirty years, keeping their books ( I have NOT inherited her passion for book keeping, I mean, I can do it, but YUCK!), running one of the monasteries, managing the staff... my mother is and always has been a driver. And she won't change now. We're fortunate. My mother has been taken in by people who nurture and love her, and care for her as if she were their own mother. The Franciscans have an infirmary and she has been in their care for months since her chemotherapy. Secular people are never admitted there as patients, but she is one of them and receives the best there is. I see the sadness in their eyes as she slips away, and I hug them or pat them on the back, thanking them for their compassion, comforting them in their own grief. They love my mother, and I love them. The janitor comes in every once in a while and checks on her. He likes my mother; she always has a smile or a kind word for Robert. He has cognitive challenges, but is a good soul and works hard and my mother admires that... so do I. He's come in and checked on her twice this morning, so far... People here worry about me, but I feel my mother's strength as it leaves her and flows to me, slowly. Her heart is still strong. Like Robert said to me this morning: 'she has a good heart'. Yes she does, in more ways then one. She gave me life some 37 years ago, and continues to nourish me even though the umbilical chord has been cut for a long time, even though I married (ok, so that didn't work out so well), moved out and now support myself and my daughter. I've been stronger now than I ever have been. Don't get me wrong, I'm tired. I don't get much sleep. I'm not Superwoman. But my mother gives me strength. I catch people looking at me, the nurses's aids in particular... they really fret over me. And I appreciate their kindness and concern. Some of them have been through this with their own mothers, fathers, one has lost her husband to cancer. They have shared this with me and it is difficult for them... to relive it all. I've gotten to know the staff very well. I eat pretty much all my meals with them, I assist them in caring for my mother, and I touch or hug them a lot. One of them, Jackie (ironically my mother's name is Jacqueline) who also has just one child, a girl, walks by the room around meal times on her shift and 'reminds' me to go down and get someting to eat. She mothers me like I'm her own daughter and I've seen a tear or two in her eyes when she comes in and kisses mom softly. I hug and kiss her all the time. Robert sighting number 3.... And then there's Barbara, she has the sweetest smile. She loves it when Mom winks at her. When she moves Mom on the bed, Barbara snuggles up to Mom while holding her. She sat with Mom trying to get her to eat strawberry ice cream... every bite was a victory. She has the day off tomorrow and came in to kiss Mom and tell her she'd be back on Wednesday. I know she's afraid she won't get to see Mom open her eyes again. She left the room on the verge of tears, trying to hide it from me, but I watch closely. And I gave her the space she needed. Denise brought Mom her new faithful friend last week, Pepe the colourful stuffed parrot and he's always on Mom's bed. poor thing had the call button clipped to his wing. I've taken over call button duties, I felt sorry for Pepe. She has always let Mom move at her own pace (Denise has a strong self -preservation instinct), even when it would take Mom 45 minutes to decide to take her medication. and then another 15 minutes to actually take it. I sit in Mom's room, with my laptop on my lap (which can't find a wireless connection) on a big chair at the foot of her bed, writing this. This is where I've been sleeping the past few nights. In a room with white walls, a nice sized window, black and white checker floors ( I haven't counted the tiles.... yet...), knick knacks on the counter and pictures and cards on the dresser. I hear classical music in the hall in the morning and mid-afternoon, people walking by, the man in the room across the hall listening to the news (loudly), bits of conversations, life... Robert sighting number 4... Alain, one of the nurses here had a room made up for me so I could have a proper bed to sleep in... I never do sleep there, I just go into that room.. the special room... to call a family member or a friend to give them news so I won't disturb Mom. My mother really is sweet on him. She holds his hand tightly and winks at him when he comes to see her. He has come in from home in the middle of the night to give Mom her morphine injections because only a nurse is allowed to administer it in that form. I offered him the 'special room' he had readied for me, he smiled. It seems my mother has a few sweethearts here. She calls François, a nurses's aid who I've often caught staring at me with concern in his eyes, 'mon chéri'. I've watched the tenderness he shows my mother, the way he handles her like fine china and makes certain things are done right, leaving instructions for the night shift and checking with me to make sure everything is ok. I've watched him tuck her in and kiss her cheek. he has great respect for the dying, and remembers that they have the right to dignity no matter how frail they are. He's a good man. There's Nicholas, I think he's her favorite. He has kind eyes, is quite shy and felt awful when mom was in pain as he had to remove a bandage. It's sticky and removing it causes her pain. I actually offered to do it for him, but he said no. And did it with such gentleness, taking as much time as he needed even though he has so many other things to do and so many patients to care for. So many people here comment on how strong-willed my mother is. But those who have gotten to know her understand. They tell me 'm like her, which would have infuriated me to no end a short time ago, you can't put two women like us in a room and expect calm waters. But I now see the good about it. And Mom slowly lets me become her voice... very slowly. Mom's friend, father George Albert comes to see her every evening, like clockwork at 8:30. It's a ritual they started when she was first admitted here. Now, if she's sleeping, which she has been doing a lot of these days, he just says hello, blesses her and wishes me a good night. Father Ferdinand, my new main squeeze, had his 88th birthday the week before Christmas. He stops off to say hello every evening on his way to his bath. And at lunch time I go up to him in the main dining room and kiss his cheek. Yup, I'm sweet on him. I am fortunate to be surrounded by such wonderful people as the end of my mother's life draws near, people that have known my mother for years, decades even, and people that in a few short months have come to mean so much to her and to me. Have I mentionned I've been blessed more times in the past few weeks than in my whole lifetime? I miss my girl. I trust that someday she will understand why I have spent so much time far from her. She has my mother's spirit; I'm going to have my hands full. A dear friend told me: 'you don't have to write it or post it. If it makes things harder then don't. But sometimes it helps to just write it down.' (-not an exact quote but it stuck in my head). Thanks bro. Your words mean the world to me. You are family. To my dear friends who have been thinking of me these past few days... I love you. Thank you. The journey I've been on has been the most difficult I've ever faced, and it will only get harder. I draw my strength from mom, my girl, my family and my friends. I love you all more than my luggage! Hugs, smooches and gropes!