Making it Work

There are so many obstacles in life. Throughout the last 28 years, I have thought about all of the obstacles that I have faced. They are nothing compared to what so many in this world face. I was reminded of this, thinking about the life of a great woman – my aunt, Jill Bergquist.

28 years ago, the same year I was born, my aunt faced a huge obstacle. She overcame it. She survived, she flourished, and smiled. She reminded me every day for the last 28 years what it is like to be a fighter; to love life; to never give up. Even though life was not easy, she kept going. She never stopped smiling. She inspired me. She will keep inspiring me every day of my life.

Today, as the frustration set in and I felt the issues building, I was ready to say forget it; I’m done. Just as this frustration seemed to be peaking, I received a reminder about life that put things back into perspective. I thought about my aunt and all of the times in my childhood I could remember her saying she had a headache, only to smile and laugh and continue to play with me. I remember her walking with her cane, but being able to work through it all and do it all herself. I remember that all is possible. Life is possible as long as we are willing to make it work. I’m going to make it work.

On Tuesday, August 9^th, 2011 God called home a beautiful angel. There to meet her was another beautiful angel. Missing them both every day.

The Most Unorganized Blog Ever...

Silence. After another crazy day in my shoes, there is finally silence. I can finally hear by own heartbeat, I can hear the quiet hum of the cars flying by on the freeway just a little ways away, I can hear the distant laughter of someone walking along the parkway, I can find my center again. Silence. Ahhh. So nice….

It’s amazing the little things one can pick up on after a “loud,” busy day ends. I live smack in the middle of the concrete jungle…I don’t know how this is possible, but I can hear crickets chirping outside. What? I know, that's just plain crazy. Right? But they are there; I can hear them. I can hear the leaves rustling in the wind. How is it possible to hear such a quiet thing when there are cars driving 80 miles an hour down the freeway just feet away? How is it that these little sounds can find their way into my silence? I shouldn’t be able to hear them, but I can.  These little hidden treasures bring back such beautiful memories of childhood. As much as I’ve said I disliked living where I did – being so far away from a shopping mall – these little things that were such a huge part of my being are so irreplaceable and just so beautiful. Growing up where I did, I never had to have a “loud” day to be able to hear these things – they were just always there. You could always hear them. A beautiful, quiet soundtrack to life; there were no loud days. There was nothing blocking the beautiful silence from finding its way to me.

Sometimes I wonder why I am where I am. Some days I love the hustle and bustle. Some days I miss the smell of fresh cut hay swirling around me in the breeze and wish I was anywhere but here, but I am a firm believer in the fact that I am where I am because that’s where I am supposed to be. God wouldn’t put me somewhere that I wasn’t supposed to be. Would He? Sometimes I miss that quiet soundtrack to life and question what I am doing, where I am going. I realize that no one really knows 100% what their purpose in life is. I don’t think, anyways, but it’s just been a lot harder for me the past year to be confident in what I am doing. There’s been too much tragedy, too many close calls, too many heartbreaks. I’m not as quick to put it all out there and “let it roll” as I was before – as I want to do again. To be honest, I’m afraid if I do this I will miss out on things. I feel like I have already missed out on things. Things I can never get back; things I wish I could get back.

I feel guilty. I feel guilty for going out and pursuing the beautiful things in life instead of going home every weekend to spend time with my mom, with my grandparents. I feel guilty for enjoying that day when mom was undergoing her test. I feel guilty for being so selfish and not wanting to accept the truth that I didn’t do what I should have done or said what I should have said. I feel really guilty.

Guilt is such an ugly emotion. It makes me feel dark and cold. I don’t like that. I like to feel bright and sunny. Why do I feel so damn guilty? I should trust in the fact that my mom is where she is supposed to be. God has made sure she is in the right place, even if I can’t understand that the right place isn’t here. I need to let the ugliness go, accept this reality, and find the beauty – let the silence back into my life. I know it’s what my mom would tell me to do.

Quite an Amazing Hello

“It takes just a couple of seconds to say hello, but forever to say goodbye” ~ Unknown

I met someone today. She was very extremely upbeat, nice, and in some way reminded me a lot of my mom. It was a random encounter, one that I didn’t see coming. We chatted for a few minutes and she reminded me of something really important. Something I think I may have momentarily forgot; something I am extremely thankful I was reminded of. The chances that I will ever see this person again are very rare, but this chance encounter will be a part of my journey; a part of who I am for the rest of my life.

When I got home today, I randomly came across this quote. Isn’t it true? Just like this woman I ran into today, so many people come into our lives each and every day. How easy is it to say hello, and welcome someone into our lives in one way or another. Perhaps the hello is to a new friend; someone who will be in your life for a very long time. Perhaps it will just be a brief encounter that will have lasting effects in your life. Maybe it’s neither. Maybe it is a passing hello that will have no effect on you, but will have effects that last forever on the other person.

No matter which way it works out, we say hello to so many people in our lifetime, and it is so easy. It’s easy to welcome new people into our lives. How hard is it, though, to say goodbye? Even when we know the time is right? Even when it’s been a year? Or two? Or ten? Can you ever really say goodbye? I am beginning to question this.

Throughout the last year, I’ve tried on multiple occasions in multiple situations, to say goodbye. No matter what the situation was or with whom I am trying to say goodbye to, that impression – or the hello – is always there. It never goes away. Even when you know the goodbye is for the best, or inevitable, or needed. Maybe this is for the better? As much as we would like to say goodbye to some people or some situations, perhaps its better we not. Looking back, there are things that I have learned from each and every hello. Things have built my life, built who I am. Would I want to change that? I don’t think so. As many mistakes and bad decisions I’ve made in my life – as many regrets that I have – I don’t think I would want to go back and erase those hellos.

The simple words of this woman today made quite an impression on my life, and perhaps this woman will never even know this. I think it is important to remember how important all of the hellos in our life are, and to take the time to slow down and welcome them. I could have been in a hurry and rushed right by. I’m glad I took the moment I did to slow down. I’m glad for the hello I received today.

A Pot of Coffee and A Good Morning Song

My heart felt dark today; dark and empty. I don’t like days like this. In fact, I don’t really like weeks like this. The week started out with a little gray spot hiding at the bottom of my heart and now has turned into darkness more than I am able to describe. I didn’t even want to get out of bed. What would I do? Have another day to add to the list of B.S. I am fed up with? I don’t wanna. There I said it. I don’t wanna. I am letting the inner child find its way out.

I remember when I used to do that to my mom. For those of you who don’t know me well, I am NOT a morning person. I repeat: I am NOT a morning person. Growing up, I never had an alarm clock. That was a very odd adjustment I had to make when I moved out on my own when I was 18: setting an alarm clock to wake myself up. Anyways, my mom would come downstairs every morning and sing (or, try to sing, maybe?): “Good morning, good morning, good morning, it’s time to rise and shine. Good morning, good morning, good morning, I hope you’re feeling fine.” As much as I hated getting up so early each day, there was just something about my mom’s smiling voice, singing me awake. I always got up; even through the “Darlene Phase”.

I did the same thing for myself today. I got myself up. I thought about my mom and her little “song” and I got myself up. The day seemed to be filled with issue after issue after issue, and problem after problem. Disappointment regarding a realization that I have been trying to avoid for so long crept into my heart as I finally came to terms with it. It could have been a day that I could have said: “I’m done. I am out of here. I can’t take this anymore” But I didn’t.

Of all of my memories of my mom, I don’t know if I have any of her being disappointed to the point I am. I don’t know that I have any memories of any days that mom just wouldn’t get out of bed. She was always up, making a pot of coffee, and singing us awake. I know my mom had many more reasons to be disappointed or frustrated about things that I do. She had a crazy job. I don’t know how she did it. But she did. And she did it each day with a smile on her face and a song in her voice. She was an amazing person.

This memory gave me hope. I went to sing karaoke. Singing is something I love to do. It always makes me feel better. Whether its karaoke, singing in the shower, or “yell-singing” in my car. It always reconnects myself to what I am missing. Today, I was missing the ability to find hope in my day; like my mom always would. And I found it.

I caught myself putting my mixed CD in the CD player of my car and automatically turning it to number 8 “She’s a Rainbow” by the Rolling Stones. I didn’t even know this song 14 months ago. It did not become a part of my iPod’s play list until my dad picked it to play at my mom’s memorial. Now, for me,  it’s everything about my mom put into a three minute song. It’s a three minute way to reconnect to my roots and find my mom’s smiling singing voice that I remember so vividly; it’s my three minute way to remember that there is happiness and hope when it feels like there isn’t. So, from somewhere up there, my mom is smiling down, singing me awake, and for that I am always thankful.

“Music speaks what cannot be expressed, soothes the mind and gives it rest, heals the heart and makes it whole, flows from heaven to the soul.”

~ Unknown

86,400 Seconds

I watched a musical today. It was actually a pretty good movie. For some reason, it made me think of the movie, “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.” The title alone is intriguing. The story line, reminds me of my life in the months past. The main character is struggling to journey home, accompanied by, at times, less than desirable company. This reminds me of my life: struggling to find home, who I am, and where I belong, accompanied by some less than desirable company from time to time. Today makes me feel like my journey home is going to be even more of a struggle than I have ever anticipated.

I live in a location that experiences a high volume of plane, railway, and automobile traffic. Do you ever wonder, while watching an airplane overhead, who is on the plane? Or think about where they are going? What is being transported on that train driving by, blowing it’s whistles at really annoying times of the day? Who is in the sleek silver BMW driving down the freeway with the windows down singing along to the music? The past month I have had more and more of an itch to just get in my car and drive. Go somewhere warmer. Go somewhere brighter. Go somewhere with less reminders. Go somewhere with different people. Drive and drive and drive. Just go.

This itch is driven by the realization that there are so many people in this world that appear to live their lives only for themselves. They are unable to see beyond their own rose colored glasses. They are unwilling to take a moment out of their day to say thank you or ask if someone needs help. This makes me sad. Recently, I participated in a training session. After 3 and a half hours of this training, I was pretty much zoned out, until the presenter at the moment made a very interesting point. He stated that our generation (yes, I’m talking about my generation) is less caring, less giving then generations of the past. The focus of our lives now is finding the job that will make us the most money, driving that fancy shiny car down the road, traveling in that airplane to an exotic beach location somewhere. The focus has been taken off of the important things. I agree with this observation the trainer had communicated. I’m not big into politics. It seems like no matter who the players are, the story is always the same. Recently, there have been large cuts in areas that I find very important: Care of People. Cuts have been made in areas of caring for individuals with disabilities, individuals with several medical conditions, research into important health programs, education programs. This further shows what the focus of our lives are today.

Obviously, I am not part of the “stereotyped generation” that this presenter was talking about, because I have to work a ton of hours in a low paying social services job in order to make my ends meet. I would give up an opportunity to have a night off with friends to attend a client’s birthday celebration, or to go home and help my family take care of paperwork. I have lived my life trying to give to and help others. Today, my buttons were pushed and I may understand why more and more people have opted to take the “I’m looking for the money” route. As much as I give to so many people, it’s not appreciated. It’s taken for granted. The thank you’s are far and few in between. I’m Steve Martin with the less than desirable company. I don’t like it. I want to have fun, exciting company like Adam Sandler or P!nk. Or Jason Aldean (he’s dreamy)….

So, what do I do? Am I going to drive away from my problems? No I am not. I had an amazing mother who taught me differently. She taught me that it is more important to do something you enjoy and something that may make a difference someday than to have money or other material items. She always said, “You can’t take money with you when you die.” She was right (of course, she always was). You can’t. She taught me to be me, and I enjoy helping others. I am the caregiver type of person. Days like today are just tough. It would just be nice to hear a thank you, or to have someone offer to help. So, I will continue to live life differently than the norm and give. I will make sure to say thank you more and offer my help whenever I can to try and keep more people from joining the “dark side”. I encourage everyone else to do the same. A simple thank you or “great job” can really go far in our world today. It can really make someone’s day. Don’t take our life style for granted. Don’t take life for granted: live it, and live it well. That’s the most important thing in the end.

“God gave you a gift of 86,400 seconds today. Have you used one to say ‘thank you?’”

~ Unknown

Trying to Find an Answer

“Go to bed and don’t worry about today. It won’t be there tomorrow”

~ LuAnn Sawatzky

Have you ever had one of those days where it just seemed like you couldn’t get anything to go your way? I think that’s how my day went today. It seemed like it was just one thing after another. It started right away this morning. I had a little bit of a longer drive than normal, and I haven’t really been sleeping well. I fell asleep while driving. That’s always a scary feeling. I cranked the radio up, rolled the windows down and went along my way. The uncertainty of the day didn’t end there. That feeling I got when I realized I had been sleeping while driving kind of stuck with me throughout the day.

On top of that sick feeling in my stomach that was already there from the feeling of being out of control; I ate at a gas station. Stupid, right? Extremely. It definitely added to that feeling in my stomach that was already there. Then came the rest of my day; issue after issue that needed to be taken care of. My car broke, bad news via email (three times), a visit to the doctor (yuck, right) with some decisions left to be made and the feeling as though there is no one to talk to them about. Particulars aren’t necessarily blog worthy, but they definitely took their toll on my emotions.

So, what do I do? Who do I talk to about this type of day? Normally, it would be my mom. I can’t do that now, though, can I? Who does that leave? These are the days that I feel as though that hole in my heart that I feel every day will never be filled, will never go away, and I will never be me again. All I can do is try and find the positives and think about what my mom would say.

The most positive thing I can think about in this situation is the fact that I was close enough to my mom to be able to know what she would tell me in a situation like this. I can hear it clear as a bell, “Go to bed and don’t worry about today. It won’t be there tomorrow.” I’m thankful to have had all of the conversations I had with my mom; to learn from her and have a different take on the world and who I am. Thank you mom. I will try not to worry about today, and will try to remember all of the things that could be coming my way tomorrow (Don't pay attention to the garland and penguin -- she was very intelligent).

LESSON LEARNED: Listen to your mom – she usually knows best; and try not to worry about today. It definitely won’t be there tomorrow.

Happiness in my Heart

“Happiness is in the heart, not in the circumstances”

~ Dove Chocolate Wrapper

Today, after a difficult day yesterday, the sun was out. I felt different. Does that sound strange? How can so much change in less than 24 hours? I felt things I haven’t felt in a long time. I saw things I haven’t seen in a long time. It felt good.

This quote was the first thing I saw this morning (yes, I know; it’s not the best breakfast), but it made me smile. It’s true. There is always happiness in my heart, no matter what the circumstances I am facing are in each moment. I am thankful for that. I owe this to my mom and dad, mostly. They gave me an amazing childhood filled with love and happiness. I didn’t always get everything that I wanted, but I sure got everything (and more) that I needed. I think about this a lot. I think about so many people that were given their first cars, got to buy whatever they wanted at the store, and everything seemed to find their way to them when they wanted it. This wasn’t the way it was at my house. I learned how to shop the clearance racks to find what I wanted. I learned that a new pair of designer jeans was the equivalent of 18 hours of work from my minimum wage job. I feel as though, because of this, I am more able to appreciate some of these smaller things that other may over look.I continue to work hard every day to give myself the things that I need and want, and have done so since I was 18 years old. I appreciate all of the things that I have and have grown to appreciate the value of my time.

My happiness in today was working and accomplishing all that I have accomplished, not only today, but in the last 10 years. I am not where I thought wanted to be, but I am getting closer and closer by the minute, and at this moment, I think I am where I need to be: Learning to be me, and learning to be more comfortable with me. Today, I felt the sunshine brightening and warming my heart, and look forward to what the sunshine will bring tomorrow.

Gone But Never Forgotten - A Journey To Find Peace

Life changes. I understand that. I understand that I can’t stop this change; but some days this change is hard to grasp. There are days when I don’t want to accept the changes I’ve gone through; I don’t want to move on; I don’t want to embrace it; I just don’t want it. I just want things to be the way they were before. I am thankful for all of the words of support and encouragement throughout this all, but I have daily regrets, daily frustrations, and daily waves of emotion. This journey has proven to be one of the most difficult I have taken thus far in my life. I’ve tried so many different methods of coping and dealing with the grief and guilt that I feel on a daily basis. Writing has proven to be a good way to help get some of the thoughts in my head. So, I thought I would try again. I hope this helps get more of the feelings I’ve been keeping inside out, and I hope to from this point forward I can try and focus on more of the positives, more of the happy memories.

I am thankful for the fact that I had such a close connection with my mom that 90% of our last days of conversations were silent: all words were spoken through our eyes. I understood what she was telling me with the look in her eyes. She understood what I was saying back. I can feel that. I am thankful for this. It enabled me to share more information with my mom when I would have otherwise not been able to, as the last couple of days of my mom’s life, she was unable to speak. Now, however, these images haunt my dreams every night. I fall asleep and I see her big, dark, innocent eyes looking at me, with tears in the corner of her eyes. I see her pain as the end came closer. Even though the doctors and nurses told me she wasn’t in pain, I could tell she was, but at this point, I’m unsure if it was physical or emotional pain. When I look back at these “silent conversations,” I wonder if there was something more she was trying to tell me that I missed. After all, I had missed all the signs that she was sick until it was too late. Should I have said more to her? Could I have made her feel better? I was hard trying to verbalize the last words to my mom. What do you say when you know you’re never going to talk to someone again? How do you tell them how much you love them and how much you are thankful for all that they did? How? I think that I was able to tell her more of this during these silent exchanges I was able to share with her. I know most of what she was telling me was that she had lived a happy life and that she was thankful for this, and she felt like her life was complete. Was she just saying this to put me at ease?

The conversations I had with my mom the last several days of her life always bring tears to my eyes. I remember the day the doctor told her it was terminal – she was going to die. I was sitting in a small, uncomfortable room that smelled like nothing – sterile stuff – with her and my dad. This was the first time that we had a silent conversation. I had never had an experience like this before, but it happened that day. My dad broke down. He cried. I remember trying to understand how the doctor could say something like what he was saying so simply; with no emotion. Here he was telling us our lives would forever be changed, and he did it without even flinching. Had he told so many people this same thing that he became immune to the feeling, the experience? It kind of makes me sick to remember that. He was a good doctor, don’t get me wrong, but this lack of emotion scared me. How can any human speak about such emotional things without any emotion? Anyways, this was the first time that my mom and I had a silent conversation. While dad was sitting next to me, holding my mom’s hand, and holding my hand crying. Mom told me that I needed to take care of dad. Mom told me that I needed to be strong for him. Mom told me I needed to be strong for everyone. That’s what I did. That mode took over me, and I don’t think I’ve ever switched out of this mode – not even to grieve for myself or find closure in this.

The next few hours kind of went by like a blur. I thank God every day I was there that day. I almost didn’t go. I had done the overnight the night before and staff who was coming in to relieve me was late. I was tired. I just wanted to go home. But I went. Mom was asked to go to the hospital and be admitted for chemo therapy. I called the family. Dad didn’t want to, but I felt like my brother and sister needed to know what was going on. I called my supervisor. I told her that I wasn’t going to be in to work for a few days, and that I may be taking more time off to help and be with my mom. It’s like I was in robot mode. Don’t feel, just do.

I stayed with mom for quite a while that night. I called my boyfriend at the time and asked if he could come. It would have been nice to have had the support while going through this with my mom. He wouldn’t take time off work to stay with me. He wouldn’t even ask. I just continued in robot mode. The next day, we went back to the hospital, mom was going to have chemo. I was scared out of my wits. It was unlike any feeling I had ever had before. I felt helpless. I couldn’t do anything. At this point, I would have done anything to take my mom’s place. She didn’t deserve to be there. She was the best woman I have ever known. I worried that the nurse wasn’t doing things right. I worried that mom wasn’t feeling good. I was worried. I worried myself sick. I threw up four or five times that afternoon. I stayed late that night, because I didn’t want mom to be along until they stopped pumping the chemicals into her body. I wanted to make sure she was comfortable before I left. I cried the entire way home.

The next day, mom was going to go home. She told me this time, “Even if I die tomorrow, I’ve lived a long happy life. You kids and your dad have made me happy. My life has been full.” When we left the hospital, the doctor told us that he was hopeful that the treatment would be successful and he was pleased with how well mom had handled the treatment. After mom had been given her diagnosis, I researched this unknown disease – Ovarian Cancer. The doctor had told us it was stage IV. I looked it up online. What the internet showed me scared the shit out of me. I learned that with the advanced diagnosis my mother was given, she had less than a 30% 5 year survival rate. But, the doctor had given me hope. He said that he was happy with mom’s treatment, she had tolerated it well, and he thought she would do well with treatment.

While talking to dad in the next couple of days, it became apparent mom was going downhill. Eventually, dad decided to take her into the emergency room. I immediately left the training course I was in at work, went home, and tried to ask my boyfriend to bring me to see my mom. He wouldn’t leave work early, but we eventually went to the hospital. What I saw haunts my memories just as much as the vision of my mom’s eyes. Her lips were swollen. She was obviously in pain, discomfort, and dehydrated. Mom was admitted. Again, I remained hopeful, even though there was a steady decline in mom’s condition. I even fought the truth with the hospitals religious department came and offered a prayer, when mom became unable to speak, when her breathing started become more difficult, or when the hospice department visited with us.

I was so angry at the hospice workers. They told us we needed to prepare for the end of mom’s life. They told us that we should strongly consider changing her code to a DNR. They told us we wouldn’t be able to take care of her when she got home. How could they say any of this? If mom stopped breathing, I wanted her to have the chance to be brought back. I didn’t want to consider a DNR! That was stupid! And who the heck were they to say that I couldn’t take care of my mom. These things that angered me so much in that moment, quickly became something that needed to deal with.

Mom’s condition continued to decline. I watched her move from one room to another so she could be monitored closely. They had to move her again to a room closer to the nurse’s station so they could get to her quicker. Then, they made another move. This time to a room that they told me wasn’t ICU, but was one step below this. A place where she would be monitored more closely, have more medical support. By this time, I didn’t want to leave mom alone. That night, I stayed with her in the hospital. This room they had moved her to had a built in bed. I wondered how many other people before me and how many people after me would be in this room in the same situation. Laying there trying to sleep, but unable. Sometime in the middle of that night, the mother I knew for 27 years was gone.

I remember being in a half sleep daze. The nurse and someone else (another nurse, I assume) was next to mom, and they were talking about mom. She had an incontinent bowel movement. They checked and she hadn’t produced any urine. She had become non-responsive. Mom looked at me. The nurse asked for my help, to see if mom would respond to me. I got up from where I was laying down, and I tried talking to mom. She looked at me. Her eyes followed mine. But she couldn’t speak. I think I saw fear in my mom’s eyes at that moment. I think there was a sense of unknown. I wish I could have done more. She took my hand at that time, and just looked at me. Soon, the nurse advised me to call my dad. We would soon have many decisions to make as to whether or not how we wanted to continue with her medical care. And we did. We had to decide whether we wanted a machine to breathe for mom. I remember again, mom looking at me, hooked up to a machine breathing for her; her chest rising and falling with a mechanical rhythm. We had to decide to have a machine take mom’s blood and clean it for her, because her kidneys were in failure.

Eventually, it became clear that mom wasn’t in good health. After many discussions with mom’s doctor, it was decided that we would change mom’s code and take her off of the machines that were doing the work for her body that she wasn’t able to do. It was the most difficult, saddest decision I have ever been a part of thus far in my life. After we decided we were going to let go, and let God take over, we all talked to mom. One by one, we had our time with mom. She opened her eyes a couple of times. Tears were coming out of her eyes. After we all had said our goodbyes, before we had time to tell the doctors to stop the machines, mom joined God in Heaven. To this day, I still think she went on her own, because she got her chance to see us all, and didn’t want to make any of us make the decision to stop the support.

I re-live this ordeal every day – whether it’s in my dreams, in my thoughts, through my regrets, through my grief, through all of the changes I see in me and others, through my happy memories, through my questions of why and how. How do I move on from a situation like this? I know my mom would want me to. I hear all of the suggestions and support from others, but it doesn’t help this go away. It doesn’t stop the dreams. It doesn’t stop the feelings of guilt that occasionally occur. It doesn’t stop the tears when a flash of my mom’s smile take over my memory. It doesn’t stop. It doesn’t go away. I don’t think it ever will. Having said this, there has been so many people in my life telling me to embrace the changes; to move on; to see the positives. Trust me, I try. I really do. I want to be happy and I want to remember all of the happy things with my mom. I want to be thankful for 27 amazing years with her. I try.

I have concluded that one of the only ways that I can do this, that I can move on, is to really embrace the feelings and feel them. It may not be a good experience. I may cry once and a while, but I need to do it. I need to feel it all in order to move on. I need to remember to take the time to slow down and enjoy the positives in life as well as feeling this sadness and grief. I need to do this for my closure.

The first positive thing I can think of and be grateful for is my mom’s amazing strength. For the strength she had for us all to work so hard to give us all such great lives. Her memory will live on forever in the hearts of all those she touched (which was many), and for this I am forever grateful.

In Loving Memory – Gone But Never Forgotten

LuAnn Sawatzky

1/21/1954-2/26/2010

Did I fall down the damn rabbit hole or what?!?

As I am sitting here at my laptop, the tears are falling. It seems as though they have been falling more frequently in the past several weeks: I don’t feel like myself. I feel like this overwhelming sense of sadness, a sharp ache of missing someone so important to me in my every day life. I feel a deep hole in my heart that I don’t know if I can ever fill again. I feel regret for all of the things that I had always wanted to do or say, and I didn’t get the chance. Even in the moment when I knew that was likely going to be my only chance, I still couldn’t find a way to say these things.  Something I don’t talk about much is the overwhelming sense of guilt I feel. I should have known. How could I have overlooked something so serious? I should have seen something wasn’t right. Where was my head? Where was I when this nasty, disgusting thing was taking over my mom? Why wasn’t I there?

The flashbacks have started again, and I can see the time I spent with her in the hospital, as though I am reliving it every night; starting with her starting the chemo. I remember being in the room with her, listening to what the nurses were saying. I remember them wearing three pairs of gloves and two protective gowns because of how serious the stuff was they were about to put into my mother. The nurse explained that they would have to test her veins every so often, because if the line came out, the chemicals they were injected would eat away her tissue and vessels. I’ve never watched a nurse so closely in my life. I’ve never watched a clock so closely in my life. I remember the absolute relief I felt when the doctor stated that he thought the treatment plan was promising. And that all came crashing down three days later. Mom was back in the hospital.

I can see in my mind the moment I walked into the ER and saw mom. It was like she was a different person. Her lips were swollen, she couldn’t talk normally. She was obviously uncomfortable. It was the worst feeling in my life, up until that moment. I hated seeing my mom so uncomfortable. It broke my heart, and it just continued to get worse and worse as I saw the stages my mom was going through during the next week.

I remember the chaplain coming to speak with the family. At first, it was comforting. I didn’t want to turn away from God during this terrifying time. Then, his presence scared me. After this, I wasn’t ever too far away from mom. She was moved several different times. I followed. I felt compelled to be there with her. I remember sitting next to her bed in several different rooms. I remember her eyes finding mine, holding mine. I remember the calm feeling I had during these moments, like everything was going to be okay. Like she was going to be okay, no matter what happened. I never let go of the hope.

Then, after a couple of days, the hospice group came and spoke with the family. They wanted us to sign a DNR. A DNR? I want my mom to be given the chance to live! Why would these people suggest a certain thing? Why were the hospice people telling us we would no longer be able to take care of mom. I wanted to yell and them, and tell them to keep their opinions and ideas to themselves. I hated them. I hated the thought that they might be right, and mom might not be able to live life the way she wanted to. I hated it.

As the days progressed, I didn’t want to leave mom alone. I stayed with her one night when she had been moved to a unit that was a little more watch and care. They gave me pillows and blankets and couch to sleep on. I didn’t sleep at all that night. That was the night I knew that things would never be the same. My mom stopped producing urine. Her breathing became irregular. She stopped responded. Throughout the night, mom’s eyes found mine several times. I think in these instances, it was my turn to comfort her. I knew what this all meant. I wanted my mom to know that I was there for her, that I cared for her. That she would never be alone. Again, even though it was me trying to comfort her, there was something in her eyes. Her eyes. They stay in my mind at all times. I don’t completely understand what she was trying to tell me, but the feeling I got was love and hope and strength.

After mom was gone, I felt her presence a lot. I felt her with me often. Now, I miss that feeling. Did she go away? Am I going to fast to feel it? Feeling her presence almost kept me at peace; kept me calm. Now I find myself searching for any signs that she may still be present and being “disappointed” when I don’t think I can find anything.

The few good friends who have stuck with me through this situation have listened, but I don’t know if this is something very many people can fully understand: the guilt, the frustration, the sadness, the feeling of being alone; the regrets. Most of all, no one can feel that hole in my heart that was once filled with my mother’s love, laughter, and joy.

I try to live life to the fullest, because I know that’s what my mom would want for me. It’s just some days this is hard. I question why this had to happen. Why this had to happen so fast. I question why my mom….

I'm Back!!!

It’s been a while since I’ve found myself at my computer, writing. I’ve had a roller coaster ride of emotions in the past several weeks. I had a bad case of food poisoning. After making a recovery from that, I got an extreme cold. Then, it was time to celebrate my 28^th birthday. My first birthday since my mom died almost a year ago. I didn’t know how this was going to go. I didn’t know if I would make it through. I did. I actually had a good time, and even won $15 at the casino (I know…not that impressive). I spent time with friends and family. There were a couple of occasions in the day where I felt an overwhelming sense of loss, sadness, and anger – anger that she wasn’t there to celebrate. I had a couple of flash back to my birthday last year, which were hard, and made the breath in my throat catch and my heart race. I remember talking to my mom on the phone on my birthday after she had had her biopsy. She was out of it. She forgot to say Happy Birthday. I remember going out and eating prime rib with my mom the day after my birthday, same thing we did this year. I remember that was the night that I felt scared for the first time. I could see the uncomfortable feeling my mom was experiencing on her face. This was the first time I had seen it. It was the scariest day of my life, up to that point of course.

Now, today, I woke up and was hit with a couple of realizations. I’ve let go of myself. I had started to give up on myself. This isn’t okay. I need to get myself back. I need to take my life back. I had a great talk with a co-worker, and was able to relate my life to hers in more ways than I would have ever thought was possible. She told me the things she was doing to get her life back on track, and it inspired me. I want to get back on track. My sister sent me a message the other day that motivated me as well. My boyfriend has committed to supporting me through this process as well. I’m going to do it. I woke up this morning with this commitment to myself, those great people who helped me realize what I was doing to myself and that I needed to re-commit to myself, and to all the other great people in my life.

I got up this morning on a mission. Okay, granted, I did sleep until 11:30a, but hey, don’t judge. I worked 88 hours this week…When I got up, I started my research and now have a plan I feel comfortable with. I have tried to set up a realistic goal. I would love to be able to do this sooner, but I want to do everything in the most healthy way, so it can be maintained for the rest of my life. I’m going to do this. Soon, the old me will be back. So….watch out world! I’m back!

The Uncertainty of Starting Over....

                If you have been reading anything that I’ve been posting in the past month, I’m sure that you know that there have been some things going on that are hard for me to handle. This continues on for some reason. There continues to be issue upon issue that seems to add insult to injury. I try to just brush it all off and go on with life the way it was. I try and smile and make life the most I can make it. Yesterday, I realized that maybe this isn’t what I should be doing. Maybe it’s time to close this chapter of life, and start a new one.

Closing the Chapter

            As I think about the positives of making this choice, I also realize how hard this is going to be. It’s not as easy as it sounds. There would be a lot of things that would be greatly impacted and would change my life dramatically. But I think in this long run this may be the best decision.

            The entire reason that I started thinking about this was I had sent someone a text message. This person used to be one of my best friends in the world. We were, at most times, inseparable. I explained something to her, asked her a question, and got no response; in several days. This was a person who would text me daily and ask how I was or just to see how my day was going. No response after about 72 hours. The last time she initiated a conversation was because she was asking for something. Not just to say “Hi” or ask how I’ve been doing. That’s painful.

            And it’s not just her. There are many other people that I considered to be very good friends that will not answer a message or a phone call. It’s been months since they have initiated conversation of any type. I’m tired of trying so hard, always being the one to check in on people, and it going unnoticed or unappreciated. When I happen to see one of these “friends” from the past, they limit conversation topics to pleasantries and small talk. Nothing like it used to be. If you want the honest truth, it usually feels awkward and usually makes me feel like it’s not something I really want to keep doing.

            This has been cause of great anxiety, depths of feeling hurt, and feelings of failure. I’ve always tried to maintain these friendships and be there for my “friends” as best I could be when they needed it, even though most days I needed their friendship more than they will ever know; and the friendship did not find its way back to me like I had hoped it would. I’ve tried too hard for too long. It has been almost a year. I cannot keep doing it. I’m closing the chapter. I’m starting a new chapter.

Blank Pages

            The scariest part of doing this is the uncertainty of all of the blank pages that lay ahead. Part of closing the last chapter means, for the most part, I will be starting over. Of course there will be some of the same places, people, and things in this new chapter, but it is time to find positive things to fill these new pages with. It’s time to live life each day at a time and not worry about trying to mend things from the past that may not be mendable. I’m going to work hard at being the person I want to be and working hard at being happy, being me.

            So, here it goes. I’m making a new me. I’m going to make the best out of my days and my time. I’m going to use bright colors to write this chapter. It will be written in Crayola crayons with doodles and silly pictures. This new chapter is going to be everything that it should be.

I just wanted a toy...

            So, just for the heck of it, Chad and I were walking through all of Walmart, when all we really needed was hamburger. Now, don’t get me wrong, this isn’t unusual, and it usually ends up being quite entertaining, as it was this evening. We started out walking by the greeter, and made some smart a$$ remark. We continued the ritual with Chad looking for a “good cart” utilizing his “rusty screw” method. Then we walk past the seasonal stuff, the cooking stuff, and then comes the toys. Mind you, we are both grown adults, but we always go through the toy aisles. I had the idea in my head that I wanted Legos. This is idea led to a shocking revelation. Toys now suck.

            What the heck? They want me to pay $50 to build a pineapple from under the sea with like 80 legos? I think not! So, I thought the next best thing would have to be Kinex. Um, yeah. Not such a good idea. The price tag said $40 for a small Kinex kit. Then I saw the Lincoln Logs. Heck yes! Lincoln Logs rock! Again, another disappointment -- $30 for Lincoln Logs. I don’t think so. I got frustrated and requested we move out of this aisle and into the next toy aisle. There had to be something better down the next aisle.

            Now, this may sound ridiculous, but I have been waiting for the puppy Zhu Zhu pets. Everywhere I go they have outfits and toys and empty spots for the puppy Zhu Zhu pets, but there are none in sight. I approached the Zhu Zhu pet section, my hopes rising, my anticipation building. There were no puppies. The disappointment set in. How can they keep me waiting like this? I just want a darn puppy Zhu Zhu pet. Put the darn things out already people. In the middle of my bout of disappointment I see they have ROCK STAR Zhu Zhu pets; in particular one with a pink Mohawk. Oh yes! That will do until the puppies are available. I searched through the stacks of Rock Star Zhu Zhu pets….and scored one with a pink Mohawk. I got it off the rack. The damn thing did not work. The only Zhu Zhu with a pink Mohawk and it didn’t work. There were no cute sounds coming from it when I pressed its cute nose. Gosh darn it!

            My disappointment was slowly fading as we approached the “My Little Pony” section just a little further up the aisle. I love My Little Pony. Life would soon be better, and my faith in toys would be renewed! Yeah, that did not happen. They now make My Little Pony look like My Little Seahorses. They have the most ridiculous faces I’ve ever seen. Again, I don’t think so. You can keep you’re my Little Seahorses, Walmart. What else would be left for me?

            A creepy baby is what’s left. Every time we walk by this creepy motion activated baby, it crawls and says something creepy and cryptic. It scares the living bejeebers out of me each time we go by it. Kids shouldn’t play with babies like that.

            That’s when I realized, toys really do kind of suck now. I wish I would have played more with the great toys we had when I was a kid. We had good toys. They didn’t creep me out, cost an arm and a leg, or break before you even get it home. They were fun and reliable. I wish I would have kept some of those things. I wouldn’t be contemplating spending $60 on a small, basic Lego set. Darn toys….

            The trip to Walmart wasn’t a complete wash. We got our hamburger (and tons of other good stuff) and my trip was saved by finding some pretty kick butt shirts on clearance for like $3, but I didn’t get any toys….

5 Seconds of Silence...

            After an interesting week, I was able to do something that I truly enjoy, and it really gave me a comfort; peace of mind. I’m so thankful for the experience. It was actually quite a moving experience, and I thought I would share it; and share the message to do the things you enjoy and take the time to smile, because these things will block out the negative trying to break its way in.

            Just some background information, I love music. I love to listen to music. I love to create music. I especially love to sing. Music has always been something that soothes me and brings me to a special place. It’s like it’s a place just for me; a happy place. It is a place where I do not have to worry about everything going on around me – there’s just music and the emotion it creates within me.  I thank my mom and dad for this. They always encouraged participation in choir and band. They cheered me on when I entered competitions. They put up with the awkward sounds of a student learning to play a new instrument. They did not complain when I was singing in the car (or my room, or the shower, or every other room in the house).  

            Now….my brother was another story. He used to always ask, “Who sings this song?” and when I would answer with the artist, he would say, “Well, let’s keep it that way.” He was always complaining about the singing. He told me numerous times I sucked and wasn’t good at it. Back in the old days, I took it too seriously. Now I know it was just my brother being my brother, but back then I did not really realize that. Then, there were a couple of “dumb boys” growing up that said some of the same things my brother did. These statements left me self-conscious of my ability and for many years after this, I only did it in private. I would only sing in my car and occasionally in my shower. I oppressed the one thing that made me the happiest.

            It was about 5 years ago when someone kind of “coerced” me into singing in front of everyone. They signed me up to sing a song during karaoke. I was mortified, but I got up there and sang, and it felt good. Best of all, no one booed me. Phew. That was a huge relief. And it opened a door. I found my suppressed passion for singing. This passion was greatly increased about 18 months ago when a good friend started hosting karaoke each week at a favorite local pub. She encouraged me to try new things. I found myself looking forward to this each week. It was my release. I could pick the songs that best fit what was going on and what would make me feel better. This was a great therapy for about 6 months. Then my life was turned upside down and I stopped participating. I lost my passion.

            Last night, I went to karaoke. It was a small, small town tavern; my favorite karaoke environment. The establishment was busy. There was a lot of noise – a lot of people interested in singing. Perfect night and setting for karaoke. I had to wait about 25 minutes for my turn. But I got up there. It was one of my favorite songs to sing. A song by an artist that my dad really liked, and introduced to me; a song that makes me feel. I got that feeling in my stomach that I always got…kind of jittery, butterflies flying around. The music started, however, and that all went away. I started singing, and, all of a sudden, the bar went completely quiet. I thought I was sucking it up. I thought the microphone was squealing. Moments ago, the bar was filled with noisy patrons yelling, laughing, and talking over each other. Now it was quiet. I just kept going. Pretty soon, there were people singing along; people dancing. At the end of the song, there were yells, cheers, and people trying to give high fives. That’s when I realized, that moment of silence was all of those people enjoying what I was enjoying – the music and the emotion that I was putting into the music.

            I think that five seconds of silence was the best feeling I’ve felt in a while. It was five seconds of me connecting with my soul, connecting with my mom, connecting with my dad, connecting with all of the emotion in my heart, and connecting with a room full of strangers. I need that 5 seconds more often. It really made me put all of the negative away in a compartment that I still haven’t found more than 24 hours later. The silence gave me the connection I needed at that moment – with my mom and my family and me.

Letting The Sunlight Shine Through

I really wanted to blog today, but I started, and it seems like all that’s been on my mind lately has been negative. I’m starting to feel like the negative is outnumbering the positive; that the darkness is blocking out the sunlight. I don’t like that. That’s not me. I’ve always tried to find positives in every situation, even when it doesn’t seem like there could be a positive. So, what the heck is wrong with me? Why can’t I seem to be able to do this?

            My week started out with the flu or equally disgusting ailment. It was totally debilitating. I wasn’t even able to walk the ten feet from my bed to the bathroom without causing extreme discomfort. Every muscle and bone in my body ached. I did not think it could have gotten any worse.

            Then I had another equally disgusting day today. I honestly do not think some people fully understand the pain their words can cause. Something small and seemingly insignificant can really impact a person’s life, emotions, well being, and feelings of self-worth. Even things said that one might think another party will never hear usually get back to the other person. This seems to make it even worse. It makes it hurt that much more to know that someone thinks it is okay to say such negative things about someone behind their back.

            The world just seems to be filled with some much negative these days. It seems as though people have forgotten to look for the positive things; to enjoy the happy moments in life. When one puts so much focus on the negative, the sunlight is blocked by the darkness.

            After thinking about this, I thought about the positives that have come from these negatives. Yes, I was sick, and it really was not fun. I would have rather not have had that experience, however, there was some positive that came from this. I learned that not everyone is the same. Even though I have had some bad experiences in the past, there are people out there that care enough to stay with me when I’m sick, get me water when I run out, and make me do stuff I do not enjoy (like drink Pedialyte) because they want you to feel better. It also gave me a day to slow down and catch up on my sleep, which I think I really needed. I have been thinking about so many things and constantly on the go, that it was very nice to be able to just stay in bed for a day and concentrate on me. I also realized that there are people who are willing to help last minute. I can make a phone call at 6:30 in the morning and there is someone there, willing to help me out; even when her day got rough, she still told me to stay home and rest and take care of me. I had forgotten that there are people like this in my world, and I am truly thankful to have been reminded of this.

            No, I really do not like to hear some of these things that other people are saying; I really do not like the negative environment it has put me in. However, I realize that just because there is this one area of negativity in my life, there are areas that are no so negative. There are places where I am appreciated and people are thankful to have me there. And again, in this situation, there are people who care and are willing to help and listen. And for that I am grateful. 

Where Did All The Spunk Go?

                *DISCLAIMER* This blog is going to be a very personal blog. It’s pretty emotional. It may not be for everyone. I will not be offended if you chose not to read this, but it seems as though the past few blog posts I’ve completed that have tapped into the emotional issues have really helped make me feel better, and these days I need that. I need to find comfort every which way I can.

            Friday was my mom’s birthday. In a month, it will be year since mom passed away. I’ve flooded with all kinds of new emotions and feelings that I’ve never felt before. I’ve felt depressed before, like when I moved out and got home sick, or when I found out a boyfriend was cheating. This is completely different. I don’t even know if the words to describe it are in my vocabulary. I wake up every day thinking about mom and feeling sad. I’ve never lived this feeling for this long before.

            I also have a very hard time talking about this emotion. I think I attribute it to an experience I had not long after mom passed away. I had confided in a very good friend that I was depressed. That friend told me “there is no such thing as depression” and stated “your mom wouldn’t want you to talk like this.” This I think has kept me from confiding in others and discussing these feelings, which in turn has made things worse. Just recently I have been able to start talking about these feelings again. There are a couple of great people who have been willing to listen and not judge me for how I’m feeling. It’s felt good to talk about things, but I’m still not fully able to discuss everything.

            The one thing that I have the hardest time discussing is the fact that I feel an immense feeling of guilt about the situation with my mom. I feel like I am partially responsible for the way things happened with my mom. I feel as though I should have seen what was going on sooner. Why didn’t I notice that mom was losing weight everywhere but her stomach? Why didn’t I notice she wasn’t eating? Why didn’t I notice she was sleeping more? Complaining of pain more? Why didn’t I notice the jaundice? I work with health related issues every single day, and I did nothing to help my mom. I was the one who encouraged mom to get the chemo treatment the doctor was recommending. She did necessarily want to. If I hadn’t have done that, would things be different now? I feel guilty for not fully accepting the situation with mom and what was happening and being in denial. I didn’t talk to her about what she wanted. I had no idea if she would have wanted to be hooked up to all those machines. I had no idea what she would have wanted for her memorial service. I have no idea about what she would want for us all now. I should have gotten past the denial in thinking that she would pull through and talk to her about these things. I feel guilty that I didn’t spend as much time at home with her and my family as I had in the past. Instead, I opted to spend more time with my boyfriend at the time and “friends” that opted to leave my life moments after my mom died. I feel guilty that I wasn’t there more for my family; my dad, my sister, my brother; after mom died. I was so consumed with my own guilt and grief I forgot to be there for them.  Mostly, I’m guilty I have not lived up to my full potential like my mom would want me to. I’ve given up too easily on things in life. I haven’t fought hard enough. I feel guilty I have let her down.

            The other thing I seem to be struggling with is the fact that there is so much unknown. I don’t know how I will feel tomorrow. This past year has been such a roller coaster ride of emotions; I had the feeling unsure, uncertain. I never know how I will feel when the alarm goes off. I feel like I’ve lost my spunk, my color, my vibe. I want it back, but the uncertainty keeps me from finding it. I don’t know if this is normal. Is it normal to be so upset a year after this tragedy? Am I the only one who is still struggling with this loss this much? Where is the damn instruction manual for this?

            I also wish I would talk to my family more about this, but I am scared to death that if or when I do, I am making them feel bad. I am ruining their day. I’m taking the sunshine out of their day. I feel as though the dynamics of my family have completely changed, and I feel this is largely due to the fact that I’m too afraid to go home and feel the overwhelming sense of sadness when I see mom’s shirts hanging in her closet and cry in front of others. I’m afraid seeing her car parked in the driveway buried in snow will cause anxiety that will affect my family. I don’t want to be a burden. I want to try and be brave for everyone, and in this process I lose me and my feelings. I don’t let myself fully feel in fear of what it might do to others.

            I feel the guiltiest about not going to see mom more. Every time I’m home, I intend to go see her, and I don’t. Why? Sometimes I don’t know what to say to her and sometimes feel it is because of the guilt I feel. I know I don’t actually have to be where she is to be with her, to feel her, but I feel guilty I don’t do it more often.

            So, now what? What do I do to get over all this and find my spunk? I want my spunk back. I want the spunk that my mom had. I want to live life that my mom would want me to, but I’m having a hard time figuring out how to do that. I do have to say, again, that I am extremely thankful for my family and two other people (CL and RW) who have been there for me to talk about this, and try and help me find this spunk again. I am forever grateful and don’t really know how I can repay these two.

            I guess until I figure out what to do to find that spunk, I will take life day by day and do whatever I can to add a little more fun to each day until it becomes easier and easier. I also had the first conversation with my dad about this subject. He randomly called the other day. We talked. We cried. I really made me feel better. I have decided I am going to do this more often and talk with my family about what’s happening. It really made me feel better – like I wasn’t alone. **DISCLAIMER** Look for more spunk to come. It is slowly coming back.

Holes

As I got myself out of bed this morning, I looked at myself in the mirror. I didn’t recognize me. Who was this woman staring back at me? Who was this woman with dark circles under her eyes from crying the night before and tossing and turning all night? I can see in my own eyes that there is a hole in my heart, in my soul. Who is this woman?

                Some days I really honestly do not know who I am any more. I think back to times where I remember that the happy days outnumbered the sad ones. The days that I could call my mom and even when I was sad, she would make me smile and make the pain go away; she would wipe away the tears. Even when I think about the times that she made me mad or said something I really didn’t want to hear, it didn’t matter. Now it is still a good memory. I wish I had more days ahead where I knew she would lecture me about something: finishing my degree, coming home more often, or taking my vitamins. There won’t be any new memories like this. This is where the dark circles under my eyes and the hole in my heart come from. Just knowing there won’t be any more new memories.

                I do really try and grab on to the memories; grab onto the positives in life, because there are some very positive things in my life right now. Some days, the dark circles make it hard to see those positive things. It makes it hard to remember the amazing things that will be coming my way. It’s just plain hard.

                Many days I feel like I’m going crazy. I can’t be normal to feel like this, can it? It’s been almost a year, and some days it hurts just as much as it did the day she died. How is this possible? I thought someone told me that time heals everything. It ain’t healing this. Most days, I do not know how to cope with the emotions surfacing. I find it hard to talk to people about these emotions, as I am afraid that it is a burden to them. I even find myself hiding what I’m feeling from my family. I know bottling this all up cannot be good, but I don’t know how to un-bottle it. My mom always said I was “the caregiver”. That I always worried too much about others and not enough about myself. She may be right. But after 27 years of bottling it up, I’m having a really hard time finding a way to get it out.

                Today was a bad day. It just was. I don’t really have a reason. Perhaps it is from the stress of a situation which has been unfolding over the last two weeks.  Perhaps it stems from missing my family. Perhaps it is just one of those days when you wake up on the wrong side of the bed. I don’t know. It was just hard. I wished I could just lay in bed all day and close my eyes – keep the rest of the world out. That did not happen. Unfortunately. So, now what? I guess for now, I will just blog about it. Isn’t it odd that I have such a hard time talking to others about how I’m feeling, but I am okay with posting my deepest thoughts and feelings on a public blog? Mom always said I was “special” and “different”. Perhaps this is what she meant.

Holding On To All The Little Things...

Yesterday was mom's birthday. I struggled all day with what was the most appropriate thing to do to remember her and celebrate her life. I couldn't really come up with anything. I was tempted to get a new tattoo, but what would it be of? I thought about getting a piercing, but what would that show? I thought about getting a birthday cake, but then the thought of getting a birthday cake and not having her here to share it with made me more sad than I was before. I struggled with the temptation of driving 2 and a half hours in the middle of the night to see her. To visit her. To talk to her. I don't think I would have made the drive without falling asleep.

I had an unpleasant experience and I think I had all but given up on finding the best way to remember, and the best way to celebrate my mom's life and her beautiful spirit. Then, I found just exactly what I needed. Tucked away in a little store in the Mall of America. It was exactly what I needed. It's amazing how something so little can mean so much. This does. It's something I can keep close to my heart every day and remember my mom.

This is a short blog, I know, but I think simple is best today. I guess the point that I wanted to get across is the fact that the smallest object can sometimes mean the most. I found that small, meaningful token and I am thankful for that.

Big Mac at Midnight...

            I just ate a Big Mac at midnight…that is never a good sign. It usually means I’m upset or frustrated or sad. I think today, I am all of these things, because not only did I eat a Big Mac at midnight, I ate a large fry too. Did it help? No, it most certainly did not. Now I feel as though I am going to vomit. It gurgles around like nastiness in my stomach.

            Well, now it is officially January 21, 2011. It would have been my mom’s birthday. I honestly do not know how to handle the feelings this day is bringing, and it’s only been minutes into the day. On Sunday, dad called. He asked how I was doing. Instead of answering, I started crying. He knew. I asked him how I was going to get through today. He didn’t know. I don’t know if anyone knows. It makes me wonder what some of the other dates coming up will feel like.

            I miss my mom more than I can verbalize; more than I can try and express in writing. She was my best friend. She was always my rock. She always knew exactly what to say. I miss her smile and her laugh. I miss the way her eyes would twinkle when she was feeling mischievous. I miss watching her enjoy the simple things in life, such as sitting on the patio with a cat in her lap watching the dog play, or walking around looking at her garden. She was such a beautiful woman. I miss her beauty. I miss her strength.

            I think the biggest thing that is upsetting to me about today is the fact that I will most likely not be able to go and visit her today. I would love more than anything just to go there, bring her some flowers; to be able to just talk to her. It hurts to not be able to see her today. I want to see her today.

            On the way home tonight, I was listening to a CD I made in early March. Song #1: “She’s a Rainbow” by The Rolling Stones. I thought about mom’s life and how it was remembered and cherished by so many. I thought about how colorful mom was. I found myself crying. I found myself smiling.

I ate turkey and mashed potatoes for dinner today at work. I found myself remembering all the times mom would make a big turkey dinner just because I was coming home for the weekend.

Today, I was at Target. I saw the most beautiful bouquet of flowers. I immediately thought about how much mom would love them.

            I’m trying to find comfort in this time of sadness; anger; hurt. I wish I had one of her crazy Hawaiian shirts to look at, hold. I wish I had some of her favorite body spray to smell. I wish I had some of that turkey she would always make. I wish I had something to hold onto to remember my mom; to remember her smile, her laughter, her good spirit.

            I wish I had more to say, but my mind is focused completely on missing mom today. Hopefully it will be a good day, and I can think about the positives more than thinking about the bad things.

Happy Birthday Mom. I haven’t forgotten. I will never forget.

The Soundtrack of My Life

I had kind of a rough week. I know, it’s only Wednesday, but its been a rough week. It seems that with each new day brings new frustrations and new reasons to feel like crap. I think I have cried already seven times since the week started Sunday. This isn’t me…I don’t know what the heck is going on.

I tried to write yesterday, and I couldn’t. I couldn’t write. I felt like I was back in February again – stuck without a creative outlet. Everything I wanted to say was stuck inside and I couldn’t get it out. My feelings have been stuck inside and I couldn’t get them out. I hate that feeling.

I was in the car driving today, which I have been doing a lot. I found a HUGE stack of CDs in my car. Good CDs. I was pretty excited. I put the first one in and found my favorite song. I sang along at the top of my lungs. I didn’t even listen to the entire CD before I took it out to put another one in. I sang that one at the top of my lungs and through tears. This repeated several times. Then, I realized I felt better. I had gotten all of those bottled up emotions out through the music.

Music has always been my saving grace. I have a song to listen to for each emotion; a song for each memory; a song for each day. I started putting together the list; the soundtrack of my life.

“Where Do The Children Play?”

            One of my first memories of music as a child was listening to my mom and dad’s old records on an old record player. I had my favorite, Cat Stevens’ “Tea for the Tillerman”. I remember dad teaching me how to put the album on the player and how to find the song that I wanted to hear. I remember turning the record player up loud and the crackling in the background.

            Most of what I listened to as a child was on the record player. I didn’t have a CD player until I was about 15 years old. All of my friends were listening to their new CD’s and I was still putzing around with the old record player listening to what my mom and dad had listened to in the earlier days.

            I think the track I would choose for my soundtrack to represent my early childhood days would be “Where Do The Children Play?” by Cat Stevens. The lyrics of this song still speak to me. I think when I was a kid it was more the sound of the music itself, but now the words of the songs speak.

“Well, you've cracked the sky.

'Scrapers fill the air,

But will you keep on buildin' higher

'Til there's no more room up there?

Will you make us laugh?

Will you make us cry?

Will you tell us when to live?

Will you tell us when to die?”

A Little Bit of Spice

            A few years later, while sharing a room with my sister, we graduated to the tape player. One of my favorite cassette tapes from this time was “Spice” by the Spice Girls. My sister and I would sing along to all the songs, like “Wanna Be”, “2 Become 1” and “Goodbye”. Again, the music was catchy and I enjoyed singing to the songs along with my sister. These songs all remind me of the simpler times. The times I wish I could have back: the fun with my sister, the small arguments about her crossing into my side of the room, and her constantly asking me to play Barbie with her. I really miss those days. I wish I would have played more Barbie with her and I wish I would have jumped on the bed more.

“Just a little girl,

Big imagination,

Never letting no one take it away.

Went into the world, (into the world)

What a revelation.

She found there's a better way for you and me to be”

“Does Anyone Care?”

            As I entered my teens, or what my parents called the “Darlene Phase”, my dad started introducing me to music not necessarily listened to a lot on the mainstream at the time. I really enjoyed artists such as Mazzy Star, Natalie Merchant, and The Cranberries.

            After hearing the first Cranberries CD, I was immediately made into a lifelong fan. The Cranberries and other artists I started listening to at this time really started speaking to me. I think this is when I realized that music is more than notes and words. Together they mean something. Separate they mean something. They just mean something.

            Music was an important part of my life from this point forward. It helped me through a lot. It continues helping me through rough patches, and happy patches alike. No matter what kind of day I have, I can get in my car, put in a CD, crank it up as loud as my eardrums will allow, and it’s like magic: my mood is improved, or I become even more happy than I was before.

“Unhappiness:

Where's when I was young,

And we didn't give a damn,

'Cause we were raised,

To see life as fun and take it if we can.

My mother, my mother,

She’d hold me, she’d hold me, when I was out there.

My father, my father,

He liked me, oh, he liked me. Does anyone care?”

Music Through Tragedy

            This past year has been a rollercoaster of emotions and experiences. More than ever, I have turned to music. I’ve used songs to try and remember things, people. I’ve used music to cheer me up. I’ve used music to bring me back into the now when I seem to be dwelling on the past or stuck on the “what ifs”.

            I find myself having a bad day and turning on the radio and the day immediately improved. I feel better. I can find just the right song to put me exactly where I need to be. I feeling very blessed to have this simple pleasure that can do so much for me. Truly, I feel blessed for having parents that supported and encouraged this love for music and encouraged having the radio on.

            My love for music is an unbreakable connection I have with my mom. No matter where I am, how bad of a day I’m having, or how sad I feel: I can always find the connection with my mom I’m looking for by finding the right track on the soundtrack of my life.

“She comes in colors ev'rywhere;

She combs her hair

She's like a rainbow

Coming, colors in the air

Oh, everywhere

She comes in colors

She comes in colors ev'rywhere;

She combs her hair

She's like a rainbow

Coming, colors in the air

Oh, everywhere

She comes in colors

Have you seen her dressed in blue?

See the sky in front of you

And her face is lik a sail

Speck of white so fair and pale

Have you seen a lady fairer?

She comes in colors ev'rywhere;

She combs her hair

She's like a rainbow

Coming, colors in the air

Oh, everywhere

She comes in colors

Have you seen her all in gold?

Like a queen in days of old

She shoots her colors all around

Like a sunset going down

Have you seen a lady fairer?

She comes in colors ev'rywhere;

She combs her hair

She's like a rainbow

Coming, colors in the air

Oh, everywhere

She comes in colors

She's like a rainbow

Coming, colors in the air

Oh, everywhere

She comes in colors”

“She’s A Rainbow” by The Rolling Stones