It's a hard Christmas!

This holiday season is hard. I thought real progress was being made this year. I finally decorated, which is a big step. (My mom and I shopped together for all my Christmas decorations the first year I was in my house, so many memories are attached to everything.) Also, her birthday falls on the 20th. I thought I was getting through things okay, but then last night, on Christmas Day, it hit me like a ton of bricks on the drive home from my dad's. My poor husband had to hold me as I cried for about an hour, before I fell asleep. I think it was the anticipation of one of the gifts I got from my brother. He started transferring home movies to DVD's for us and we received the first disc yesterday. I knew I had been longing to hear my mom's voice. I hadn't heard it for years and now the opportunity was laying before me. Sometimes you think you forget what they sound like, but then it's also so familiar. Also, there's the body movement and oh, how we can take this for granted. I have stared at pictures of my mom, but there is just something about seeing a smile in action...seeing what provokes it and the laughter that comes with it.

This year, I guess I am a little more sensitive because Skye and I have such big news. We are expecting a baby and during this time, when I am so excited, it is also so bittersweet. My mom isn't here to share in the excitement and to hold my hand through this process. When my mom was in hospice, I actually knew that this day would come. I actually tried preparing myself for this by buying some baby books and traced her hand on the inside. Somehow, that made me feel like she would some day, some how, be a part of things. She had no idea, what I was doing when I was penciling around her fragile hands due to all the pain killers she was on her final days. People ask me if I want a boy or a girl. In the long run, it doesn't matter. I think right now, though, my heart yearns for a girl. I think mostly because I want to carry on the mother daughter relationship somehow, since I can't do it with her. I want to show a daughter all the loving the things my mom did for me...dance lessons, gymnastics, shopping, lunches and just those girl talks. But like I said, a boy would be fine too. Gigi (as mom wanted to be called) would be so excited with the news too and would not want me to be sad. I tell myself that everyday, but it still is sad, I'm not going to lie.

Once upon a dream...

Last night I had a strange dream. It was about my last and final day before dying. It took place in the house that I grew up in with my family. How the dream took this direction (I don't know),but somehow it got to the point where I had been given the morphine to help make me comfortable. Although,I wasn't bed-ridden from the medicine. I knew that my time was short, therefore I was running around the house trying to make things right and to warn my family and friends. "This is it, there's no more time left," I was crying out!! But nobody seemed to notice my frantic state.

This part is where this dream becomes relevant to this particular blog. My mother was in this dream. She really didn't acknowledge my presence, in fact, I was pleading with her to talk to me. She was only watching me and smiling. It's like she knew what was ahead and was there to walk me through it, having done so, herself already. I didn't feel scared due to this fact and knew she was along for the ride.

Even though, it's really weird to dream about yourself dying, I welcome any dream that my mom makes an appearance. I can see her move around acting normal and happy. I don't have just a still picture to look at and struggle to imagine her voice. It all just becomes very real again.

Cleaning out the closet

Last weekend my father and I did one of the hardest things ever in my life. Finally after two years of avoiding the process, we cleaned out my mother's closet. "It's just things!" people will tell you, but they are wrong. It's the memories too. As a daughter, you went on a lot of those shopping trips. You remember making the trip to the store, trying on those clothes and the excitement of bringing them home. There were so many times, too, that my mom would then make me sit on her bed, while she matched up her new items to things she already had. There was always a fashion show involved. So, it's not just things!

Cleaning out a loved one's closet, like I said, is hard. It used to be my escape. When I felt sad about her death or felt like I needed her around, I would go in there and touch her things. They smelled like her. I would spray a bit of her perfume and close my eyes. I would actually hug her bathrobe and imagine her arms around me. Crazy, it may seem, but if you've lost a loved one...you know. Now, that escape is changing. We didn't get rid of it all simply because there were just some things that I wasn't ready to let go of. I didn't want to do something I would later regret.

It was also sad to see the progression of her being sick, going through papers and receipts. Her writing showed signs of her getting weaker and weaker. My God! How did she get through all of that? She was so frail; her poor hands!

I wish I could say that I feel stronger and made progress doing this hard task this week. But that would be a lie. There was a reason we kept putting this off. Of course, let's go see a movie instead! Sure, why not, let's just go away for the weekend. It will still be there, untouched, when I get back. We were all guilty of avoiding this. But the way I've felt this week, it feels like more like a step back, than forward. I'm sensitive, achy and questioning a lot of things. Would my mom want me to feel this way? No! She would probably wave her finger at me and say, "Don't Fret!" I just sit and think of how lucky I am to have had a mother with whom I had a relationship worth getting sad over.

When the other parent gets sick...

My dad has been sick for the past few weeks. After he's had x-rays, cat scans, blood work...the doctors have still not come to any conclusions on what could be wrong. I feel helpless, because there is nothing much that I can do to help him. Nothing anybody can do, really. I've driven him to his doctors appointments since he's been on pain medication and made sure he's had some things to eat, but other than that, I can only help keep a watchful eye. It makes you feel uneasy when the only parent you have left has something wrong. Your mind goes there. The "what ifs" can't help but go through your mind. On top of that, nobody likes to be alone when they are sick. It's a comfort to have someone around to help take care of you, right? It was put into a new perspective again yesterday when I was leaving my dad to head home. I said that exact thing, stating "I'm sorry to leave you. Nobody likes to be alone when they aren't feeling good." His response was just sad. "Well, that's what I've had to accept on how my life is going to be now..." I cried the rest of the night. Mom was the best care giver. She would be taking charge and making those doctor's listen and questioning everything. This mystery illness would most likely be solved by now.

Has it really been two years?

Today marks the anniversary of my mom's death. Last year I had the luxury of being away on business for the actual day, so I was able to put physical distance between myself and the memories. This year, I've been pretty sensitive this week. I've cried at some of the smallest things. It even seems that everything I watched on either the TV or at the movie theater had death as a major plot line. Help! There's no escape! Even if I tried avoiding those things, you can't get away from the longing of wanting to hold her hand or wanting to hear her voice again. I try to imagine what Mom and I would talk about if we had one more conversation. What would be worth updating her on? Brad once again provided a great distraction with a bike race in Watertown, TN. I did, of course, what mom would want us to do on this day. Go out and support one another. Be there and cheer each other on. Unfortunately, he had to deal with some mechanical issues, but the race still provided motivation to get out of bed and face the day.

Dad's Birthday

Today's my dad's birthday. The last time we actually celebrated it was the week before my mom died. She was in hospice. She couldn't hardly speak, she was so weak...but she still wanted to celebrate my dad one more time. For his present, she made me go out and get my wedding portrait framed for him. ( We had just gotten my wedding pictures back). This was a hard task. Here I was trying to shop and get this picture professionally framed to go in the house....knowing that she would never see it hung. I was spending time away from her and not holding her hand, just to fulfill this request. I wanted to be selfish and say "No!", but it was for her and I would do anything. I got it done in time, probably spent way to much money, but she got to see it and present it to dad. I'm not sure he really cared about it, but I know that it was something special she wanted for the house. She was so proud of my wedding. Though now, I can't even look at that picture when I go over there. It's just a reminder of my last shopping trip for my mom. It's a reminder of how hard that day was, because we all put on our strong, fake smiles and and ate birthday cake. Last year, my dad went on a vacation to get away from this day and this year he's gone again. I don't know if he will ever be around for his birthday again.

I miss her.

Simply put...I miss my mom. Lately I've had this wave of sadness that just flows through me; it makes me tear up and then passes through. Two years ago, these next couple of weeks were the hardest I've ever experienced. I sat in hospice everyday and watched my mom get weaker and weaker. I had to say goodbye. I hate this time of year.

Wedding Anniversary

Today marks an important day in my mom's life. If she were with us, she would be celebrating her 32nd wedding anniversary. I don't know what it's like to grieve a spouse, but I'm sure this day is hard for my dad. Last year, I was more aware of the day because her last wedding anniversary was such a big deal. They made it to 30 years, which at the time was amazing. My mom was so sick, she had just gotten done with radiation, and we were beginning to be hopeful. We had gotten word that the tumor in her lungs had decreased like 40%. Wow! To celebrate, my parents made one final car trip to Gatlinburg to spend the weekend with their close friends in their cabin. My mom danced around with her walker and wore her monogrammed baseball cap on her bald head. These were friends that didn't care and loved her with all they had. A picture of her with these two ladies is hanging on my fridge. It's the last picture that was ever taken of her. I think we all got too scared to take pictures of her while she was sick, but I have two; and she's just as beautiful as she ever was. I keep them with me when I'm going through a tough time. This is stupid, but I even took my treasured polaroid to spin class when I first started to go. I'm not kidding it's a hard class. There were times when I felt like I could not simply make it. But I would occasionally glance at her face and think to myself .."Look at her. Her body went through so much pain with chemo, radiation and drugs....why can't I make it through this stupid spin class!" It got me through it. Now, it's not so tough. That's how her legacy lives on with me and she can still be an encouragement.

Happy Mother's Day

So, it is Mother's Day and I am celebrating it, the most appropriate and best way I know how. I am glad the day has finally arrived, because I am tired of all the commercials and advertisements. It's just a reminder that my mom is no longer with us. But it does remind me too, how great of a mother I did have.

This year, my in-laws are in town. I am glad that my husband is very understanding and realizes how hard it is to think about spending the day with them. To watch a mother and son be so excited to share the holiday together, I just anticipate sadness. So, instead of being a witness to other people's holiday, I am going to do what my mom would do today...besides put flowers on her own grave. I am going to go support my younger brother in a huge bike race in McMinnville. I am sure if mom were here, she would be on the sidelines cheering him on and ringing that cowbell like she always did. It's a way to honor her and her memory and be supportive of my brother at the same time. I am sure he's glad that he has the distraction too.

The tie that binds...

Did I ever tell you that I hate, HATE cancer!!!! My friend's mom died early this morning of breast cancer and I am so sad for her. When I found out that my mom was diagnosed with this dreaded disease, I actually turned to this friend for comfort. She had gone through the horrible process of digesting the news about her mom and we kind of bonded over the experience of our moms being sick. That's sounds awful saying, but people don't totally understand unless they have gone through it, the process of losing a parent...and especially one that you are very close to. Watching and listening to my friend go through the motions of letting her mom go, has triggered some sad memories. The waiting is the hardest part. Telling your mom "It's okay. I'll be alright. You don't have to fight anymore. Go be with God." I held my mom's hand as she drew her last breath and smiled. Gosh, it's hard.

Anyways, my friend is also in the midst of planning her wedding. This situation made me think of my own relationship with my husband. Thank goodness I had him to support me through all the madness. We were married such a short a time before my mom got sick, that I even told him the other night that I don't even remember a normal night,beforehand, of us just being happy and going to bed without any worries. We've had a lot of drama during our almost three years of marriage. I'm so glad that my friend will have a support system like I did. Someone to just hold her and let her cry. I'm glad her mom knows that she will be taken care of.

It's just a flip flop

I have a new 9 week year old puppy. My husband and I named him Henri (with an "i"), but his name was actually inspired by King Henry. I've actually been reading a lot about English History, so the name just came to me instantly. The spelling we chose just seemed more "puppy-like." We thought we had been doing really well crate training him. He's been a good dog, more than a bad dog, doing his business, but today we had to get a little strict. We had to put him in time-out twice in the bathroom. Once for doing #2 in the corner of the living room and then also for destroying my most favorite flip flop. I know, I know, puppies tear up things and we all know that dogs love to bite on shoes. It's my fault for leaving them out, but it was out of shear laziness because I need quick shoes to let him out all the time. But these flip flops are special. I got those flip flops on one of the last shopping trips my mom and I ever took together. I remember her every time I slip them on because she wanted to buy the matching purse, but thought it was crazy because she knew she had medical bills. I tried urging her to buy it because if it made her feel good...why not? If you have to put yourself through chemotherapy, you deserve a break. Note to self...they are only flip flops, but it just made me miss her today. I admit I shed a small tear, and then went and hugged my puppy. Henri is still a cool pup.

Sweet Dreams

A while back ago I wrote an entry talking about wanting some kind of sign from my mom that she's doing okay up there in heaven. Yesterday, when I was talking to my best friend on the phone and she told me about this dream she had. She swears that she never dreams of people that have died, but one night that changed. She said that she ran into my mom during a dream and just in passing they had a brief simple conversation like as follows:
-"Hey Mrs. Wormer"
-"Hey Dana!"
-"How are you doing?"
-"Dana, I'm doing just fine!"

Maybe, I'm reading into this WAY TOO MUCH, but either way it makes me feel good. Sign or no sign, I'm glad that my mom was special enough to appear in my friend's dreams.

Little Surprise Stories

I am used to hearing great stories about my mom through some of her close personal friends, but today I was told an unexpected story which made me smile from someone I barely know. While I am inbetween jobs, I am doing some substitute teaching. I oddly found myself helping out the band class at the local middle school. She told me how my mom found out that the school district was down-sizing and they were planning on eliminating her position (she didn't have tenure yet). Mom immediately called the school board and made such a fuss that she saved her job. She even went to the Head of the School Board's house. Geez, my mom could be a pistol when she needed to be. I absolutely love hearing little things like that. Not that it was ever a doubt, but it just makes me feel good that my mom made such a big difference in other people's lives and they continue to remember her and are grateful. It's wonderful that seventeen years later she still has her job too.

Things you don't say...

So, occasionally I work out with two other women at my gym. Well, one of them lost her brother recently after a four year battle with lung cancer. Someone pointed out that my mom died of the same thing, but her death was pretty quick (she was diagnosed in February and passed away by August). You understand that people really don't know what to say and everyone has a different viewpoint on the matter, but NEVER, does it make you feel good when someone's reaction is "Thank God!" Yeah, thank God she's not suffering anymore...but NO! It doesn't make it any easier to accept. Hint, hint, it doesn't make the grieving process any better. We as humans are selfish and want that person here with us. How could she say that to me today? I'm really to try to keep it in perspective that she was just in a crazy place. She doesn't know the battles we fought and the hope that we had. I bought a fun coffee table book called I Like You by Amy Sedaris Hospitality under the Influence. In one section she goes into detail on how to treat grieving friends and family. I'm going to include a few of her suggestions, in case you ever find yourself in that awkward place.

Inappropriate things to say:
1.He's better off now.
2.Only the good die young.
3.Was he drinking?
4.Did she smoke?
5.Where were you when it happened?
6.I know exactly what you are going through...

Some appropriate things to say:
1.My sympathy to you
2.He will be missed.
3.He had a lot of friends
4.She lived a good life.


The woman today managed in a matter of 45 seconds to say at least three of the inappropriate things and zero appropriate and I managed to break down crying in the middle of my workout. What a way to start off the day.

Paint, Sweat and Tears

When my mom got sick, my brother was just about to sign a lease to have his own place in Nashville. He decided to forego his plans and stay at home to help the family out. When my mom died, he stayed in the house for awhile, but then put money down on a new condo last fall. He finally closed on it last week and we spent the whole weekend painting. Now, if you knew my mom, she was all about shopping and decorating. She would be so into this project. I know that my brother must feel sad, because I know that he would look to her opinion on many, many things. I can't help but want to fill that void. I had a gift card to Walmart and decided that I would use it to buy him the boring necessities such as laundry detergent, mops, sponges. It's stuff you gotta have and adds up quickly, but you don't want to buy. So, it was an easy decision to use my gift card on that. Mom would make sure he had the cleaning supplies, right?

So, we spent the whole weekend painting and it looks really good. It allowed us to have some quality bonding time, which was really nice and needed on my part. There was one point where I did shed a tear or two in the corner while working on the trim. I wish she could see this. She would be so proud and excited.

Just give me a sign...

I tried to make it a weekend that was so busy celebrating, that I wouldn't have time to think about it being sad. Today was my 30th birthday and I would love to say that it was great, but in all honesty, it was one of the hardest days I've had in awhile. From the moment I woke up this morning until around 3:30 this afternoon I couldn't stop crying, and I mean the "hurts to breathe" sobbing. While my husband was out running quick errands and making preparations for celebrating later at my dad's house, I snuck out and went to the cemetary. I hate going there, but I had to go. There's always a connection between a mother and a child on their birthday and unfortunately our birthday visits will be there from now on. I could hear my mom saying her "Well, I know where I was 30 years ago...." speech in my head.

So, today's visit was...well, just different. I always get there and I always think I will know what to say. I get out of the car and then my mind just goes blank. I have no clue. I tidy up her spot, sometimes change the flowers out and of say my "I Love You's" and then I can't get out of there fast enough. But today, it started out the same and then somehow it just worked it's way to me begging my mom and God for some sign. I miss her so much and I wanted just some guarantee that she's doing okay up there. I wanted to know that she's happy and that she misses me as much as I miss her. Of course in our hearts deep down we know the answer, but I just wanted some reassurance, you know? When I was pleading for an answer back, I was wanting that movie moment. Like when you all of a sudden feel a calm breeze take over... or the clouds part and the sun breaks through and you say "Thank you! That's the answer I needed." Well, I didn't get it. In fact, I think I drove away disappointed, mad and crying even more because I didn't get what I wanted. I was, in fact, being a baby on my 30th birthday.

Well, later on I think I got my answer. Throughout the rest of the afternoon and evening, I managed to wipe away a tear or two secretly. I really didn't want anybody to feel sorry for me or to put a damper on the celebration people were trying to make nice for me. But deep down, I still had a broken heart. Well, maybe I wasn't doing a good job at hiding my sadness or maybe it was just a coincidence, but my brother and I were in the kitchen alone and he pulled me aside, out of the blue, and just gave me a hard hug and didn't let go. Ah, there's mom. There's my sign. After that, my birthday was just fine.

Soap Operas make me cry

January is a hard month for me. It is the month that we thought my mom only had pneumonia. It is the month she lost her voice and it was never the same again. It was a month of hopeful waiting that the PetScan wouldn't come back and say CANCER. I think it was also the last month that was "real" with my mom. It wasn't full of sympathetic eyes, sad voices and scary prayers. I think we even had a few minor disagreements then. Oh, how I wish I could hear my mom yell at me...for anything. So, here we are towards the end of the month. My birthday is coming up this weekend and I thought I would be excited, but I'm not as pumped as I thought I'd be. See, I now associate my birthday with the weekend we found out my mom for sure was sick. So, the build up to my birthday is a little nutty for me. I have a lot of ups and downs and here's the crazy thing about grief...you can't help what triggers a memory and makes you sad. Yesterday, I was watching The Young and the Restless (yes, the stupid soap opera) and I just started crying. I wanted to be able to discuss how stupid Victor Newman is being and how Victoria just woke up from her coma. Silly, huh? But that would be real conversation for us. Small talk, really, and I miss that, a lot. You don't have to necessarily only miss the big conversations and wish for the good advice your mother would give. You can miss the "I'm going to the cleaners later and would you like spaghetti for dinner?" small talk too.

The Next Step

I was always deemed "The responsible child" and sometimes I understand why. When my mom got sick, I decided that I would prepare myself. I actually went on high-anxiety and sleep medicine so I could keep myself in check so that I could be helpful to the rest of my family. I went to see a psychologist to prepare me for what was to come. When that doctor didn't show up for an appointment with no excuse, I stopped going. I felt brushed aside and uncared for. When my mother finally passed away, I seeked help. I went to a Pastoral Counselor for about as long as I could afford it, which was about 3-4 sessions. I found it helpful because it was a place where I could just go and cry without a feeling it was a show. I still needed something else though. I needed to talk my feelings out. I couldn't do it with my family because we were in different stages of our grief. My younger brother wasn't really opening up, my dad was pressuring me to go to group and my older brother just comes across as criticizing because he was more at peace than I was.

I really didn't have a place to turn to. I finally gave in and went to grief support from the hospice, where my mom died. Each Thursday would come and I would roll out of bed in a bad mood. My husband would ask "What is wrong with you?" And I would try to explain, "How can you be excited about going to grief group? You are already set for the day knowing you are going to at some point have another break down and just feel depressed. Not only are you sad for your own loss, but everybody in there is just so sad. Nobody has any good news and everybody is old." That's right, my problem was that I was stuck in a group where everybody was much older than me. Nobody could relate to my loss at such a young age and I felt pressure when I talked. I felt like nobody wanted to sit and hear from a young adult. It may have not been the case, but those feelings of anxiety did effect my willingness to talk and get things out in the open. "Why can't I find something for my age? Why isn't there a place for young people?"

Because of my own experience with this problem, when the opportunity presented itself for me to help train to be a grief share facilitator at my church, I spoke up. Believe me, all week I'm been going back and forth with regret and encouragement. I haven't committed myself to something in a long time. Mostly because when my mom got sick I couldn't make any promises to people. She and my family came first and I was busy taking care of them. I never knew what state of mind I would be in as well. But this is important now. I don't want kids and young adults to go through what I did without feeling they can get support or have a listening ear. I feel this is the thing I can do to honor mom. My brother has gone off and done miraculous things in her honor by raising $16,000 for the Lance Armstrong Foundation and rode 100 miles in the bike race. I've included a picture from the race below. He will never know how proud I am of him. I couldn't do that and he did it with determination and strength. I feel that being the listening ear for this group is the way I can make a difference now.

Last night was the first session. I am going through the course first before I take it on to facilitate myself. They say that I am an answer to their prayers and that there have been requests for kids and young adults, but once again, I walked into a room full of older adults. I cried all night. "Can I do this?" I wasn't only crying for my mom, but for all those people in there. Everyone had a story and everyone was very sad. Here's a problem,I'm a crier. I cry easily watching TV shows, movies, hearing people's stories. Hallmark commericals...don't get me started. So don't they need someone that is going to appear strong? Maybe? But I think they also need to know that this person leading has felt the same things. They understand and have had the same questions and it's normal to cry. So, we will see how this goes. I really pray that I can stick with this. One of the reasons I started this blog is to help younger people find an outreach online. Kids and young adults are into blogging and maybe can use my journal as a resource tool. Maybe it will inspire them to write about their feelings. It has helped me a lot because I feel that I can talk about my sadness without bothering someone. I don't advertise this blog, so if someone reads it, it is because they have some kind of interest.