The Hard Questions

Abby is in the stage where she questions EVERYTHING.  I can not count how many times she says 'Why?' or 'Why Not?' in a day.

But she's also starting to ask questions about other stuff too, especially family.  She's fascinated by the fact that I'm her 'mom' but I'm also someone's 'sister'.  At first, it just confused her but she's starting to piece it together.  It's the cutest thing to see her eyes light up when she gets it!

I can literally see the gears turning in her brain as she works through all of this complicated stuff.  Here's where the conversation gets difficult though.

Abby:  "Who's your Dada?"
Me:  "Your Nonno is my daddy."
Abby:  "Who's your Mama?"
Me:  "My Mama is your Babushka."

That's where the conversation stops, usually.  I can see the look on her face.  The look of not quite getting it and the look of her wanting to ask another question but not sure what that question should even be.

I know it's on her mind because one day after we went out to eat, she asked me if I go out to eat with my Mama too.  My answer was simply, I used to... all the time.

We talk about my Mom here and there with Abby.  She knows my Mom made (and I use that term very loosely) her Blanky.  There's a picture in her room of my Mom holding her.  But, I have to admit, I sometimes keep the conversation short because I know what that next question is and I'm afraid.

I'm afraid to chip away at her naive innocence.  I don't want her to know that there is an end because to her there are only beginnings.  How could a child understand what I, after 3 years, can not type without tears in my eyes.

I know the question is there, on the tip of her tongue.  I know the day will come and I will handle it as well as I can.  I know that the right words for a 2 (almost 3) year old to understand will come to me.

But, as I sit here with Lilly as she lays here content with droopy eyes and milk dribbling out of the corner of her mouth, I wonder what I will tell her.  There will be no pictures, no Blanky, no stories of how much my Mom loved her.  The realization that I have officially stepped into a part of my life that my Mom would never be apart of, is painful.

It brings back memories of when my Mom was her sickest, and she looked at me and cried, "I'm going to miss so much!"  My response to her that day, as I tried to be strong and hold it together, was to tell her that she was going to have the best seat in the house!  I believe that still, and I feel her presence, but it would be nice to hug her or hear her voice.

I know the words will come the day that Lilly asks the question too.  I just really wish the question didn't have to be asked.

It's Hard to Believe 2 Years Have Gone By

Here we are at the 2 year mark.  Two years since my Mom has been here.  It's hard to believe.  There are so many times I still want to call her.  Sometimes whether I told her something or whether she was somewhere is fuzzy... I can picture her talking to me about something but then realize it would be impossible.  She was just always there, always available to chat so sometimes my mind plays tricks on me.

It's crazy to think of all the things that she wasn't here for.  The little things. Abby's first words and steps.  The funny things she does.  The gossip from family get togethers.  Then there's the big things.  A new baby.  A new home.  Family tensions.

She's been missed, by so many.  The longer she's gone, the more I learn, the more I admire her.  The pain is still just as raw but it surfaces a little less now.  I'm sure it will always be there.  I try not to focus on the sadness because I know I need to move forward.

I read this the other day in Mitch Albom's book "Have a Little Faith" and I thought I would share.  It follows a story as told by Rabbi Albert Lewis during one of his sermons.

"My friends, if we tend to the things that are important in life, if we are right with those we love and behave in line with our faith, our lives will not be cursed with the aching throb of unfulfilled business.  Our words will always be sincere, our embraces will be tight.  We will never wallow in the agony of 'I could have, I should have.' We can sleep in a storm.  And when it's time, our good byes will be complete."

There is no greater lesson we can learn and losing my Mom so young has taught me this lesson well.  Do what's right, treat people right and keep your regrets to a minimum.  Make sure the ones you love know it and try hard to bite your tongue when you're angry.  When I think back to how I treated my Mom, I think I was pretty good to her.  However, there are some things that I wish I wouldn't have said or done.  I was young, stressed, tired.... so many excuses.  But those moments are ones I can't get back.  I try to remind myself daily to not make the same mistake but it's sometimes hard.  All a person can do is try.

Mom, I miss you every day and I am forever grateful that our last words to one another were "I love you."  

"The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered." Elizabeth Edwards

I'm sorry, this post might come off as a little depressing for the holiday season.  I just found out that Elizabeth Edwards passed away this morning.  I have to say it hit pretty close to home.  Both her and my mom fought breast cancer for 6 long years.

Elizabeth Edwards left behind 3 kids, her oldest is about the same age as me so I feel like I have pretty good idea what she's feeling right now.  She was pretty open about her diagnosis so I'm sure in some ways she tried to prepare them for this but truthfully there is no such thing.  Losing your mom at such a young age is hard.

My sister asked me recently if anything will ever feel like a happy occasion again.  For us, there's always something... someone... missing.  I'm sure with time it will ache less but I'm sure we'll always feel that way.  A few days before my mom passed away, she cried over how much she was going to miss out on.  I tried to reassure her that she'll have the best seat in the house, but I know at the time that it was only words.  Until she said it, I never thought of it.  I'm choked up right now thinking of the big things that she'll miss... engagements, weddings, grandkids.  All I pray is that on each of my sister's wedding days, I say the right thing because Lord knows... it's going to be a little tougher for the girls.

Which is why my heart goes out to her children, especially the younger 2.

I thought I would share a poem my dad found and sent to me.  Reading it reminded me that no matter what happens, there are two ways to look at things.

You can shed tears that she is gone, 

or you can smile because she has lived. 

You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back, 

or you can open your eyes and see all she's left. 

Your heart can be empty because you can't see her, 

or you can be full of the love you shared. 

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday, 

or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday. 

You can remember her only that she is gone, 

or you can cherish her memory and let it live on. 

You can cry and close your mind, 

be empty and turn your back. 

Or you can do what she'd want: 

smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

~David Harkins~

Happy Turkey Days!?!

I hope everyone enjoyed their Thanksgiving!  We certainly did!  We were able to visit with family members in three different states and enjoyed 3 big meals!  Good thing family meals are calorie free in my book!

This was the 2nd Thanksgiving without my Mom.  She was missed but I was glad that I got through the day remembering her but not grieving.  It was strange but I didn't get overly emotional until my ride home on Monday night after visiting my Dad.  It suddenly hit me that I had spent time with my Dad, my aunt (who's like a second mom to me), and my in laws... all the parent figures.  It's kind of a hard feeling to express.  It's a thought that caught me off guard and hit me like a ton of bricks. Sometimes life is just depressing.

On a positive note, Abby had a blast visiting everyone.  We even got a chance to take her to this awesome place, Edaville Railroad.  She got a chance to ride on a 'choo choo' and to meet Santa (which didn't go as well as I hoped).  She even ate her first lollipop, which was too stinkin' cute!  After the first taste, she paused and looked at me before letting out a great big 'MMMMM'.

It Was the Worst of Times, It Was the Funniest of Times

I can not believe it's been a whole year since I saw her, heard her, hugged her.  I miss her and these past 2 days have felt like I'm reliving everything all over again.  There is so much I've learned this past year and the one lesson that I try to remind myself of every day is that sometimes the things that frustrate you the most are the things you miss the most.  My Mom had so many idiosyncrasies that gave us so many laughs but sometimes drove us crazy!  Whenever I would return back to work after spending time with her, my friends would ask what types of crazy things she did and laugh.  I remember asking my Dad one time how it was possible to love and care for someone so much but be so frustrated at the same time.  Her craziness made her lovable.

For one, she loved Walmart (I did not inherit this quality).  Not only did she shop there but she worked there.  Every time, and I do mean every single time, we went anywhere (yes, even chemo appointments) she would ask to stop there.  She knew everyone that worked there and walking around with her was like walking around with the Mayor of Walmart.  She stopped after every aisle to hug someone or catch up on the gossip.  I swear, a trip to pick up kitty litter would last 2 hours!  She was so dedicated and beloved by her coworkers that after she passed away they framed her vest, name tag and a rose they found in her locker.

My Mom was also a bit stubborn.  She always needed a chaperone at the doctor's office because she would make up things that they said to fit what she wanted to do.  She took medication her way, resulting in one too many anxiety pills more than a time or two.  I still laugh because the day she passed away she made sure to take that last pill.  I will never forget when the doctors put her on a pain patch.  I told her to please be careful and use it as directed.  She swore she would but said the patch wasn't working.  We took her back to the doctor and they were shocked that it didn't help at all.  After questioning her a bit, we found out that she was cutting the patch in half!  I couldn't help but laugh because this was so typical for her but I also gave her a bop on the head the pamphlet I was holding.  The doctor was laughing but said she deserved it!  She was never to be trusted with the patch again!

My Mom's stubbornness also helped her fight through some of the worst pain.  She didn't want surgery and always told the doctors she felt better than she really did.  When she was having a hard time walking, I mean a really hard time, we found out that she was actually walking around on a broken hip for weeks! Any normal person would be anxious to be out of pain but I can remember her first question to the surgeon like it was yesterday, "Well, does it really have to be fixed today?  I have a vacation to Vermont to visit my sister in a few days so can it wait?"  I don't think that doctor could believe what he was hearing but he allowed her to go.  He said for any other patient he would say no but if she promised to be extremely careful and not walk around she could go.  So she went and drove the golf cart around the property!  She was nuts!

She always kept things interesting.  She would say some crazy things at the oddest times.  The most memorable was the day we were all sitting at the table chatting and out of no where she looked at us and said, "I like fish tanks."  Why did she say that?  She said, "Because I do" and then she laughed.  She truly was a character!  She never minded being the brunt of the joke and even allowed my sisters and I to call her Vagina even though her name was Virginia (of course in public we called her Mom, usually).  It made her laugh and her laughter was contagious!

Without laughter, we would have never made it through all of those hard years.  We would laugh at everything from the crazy nurse that wore the funny hat (she reminded us of something out of horror movie) to the loony tune plastic surgeon that was obsessed with her reconstructed belly button.  We laughed at how her doctor would lean forward and blink her eyes a thousand times per second when she talked.  Above all, we laughed at ourselves.  We tried to keep her diagnosis light... it truly does heal the soul.

All the joking and craziness aside, my Mom was the most giving person I know.  It didn't matter to her that she owed money on her house or didn't have enough for groceries, she made do and helped whomever she could.  She would take in a stray person as quickly as she took in a stray cat (which resulted in her having about 7 cats at one point).  She was always picking things up for people (at Walmart of course!) that were on sale... from crazy pajama pants to blankets that had a picture of the state of Texas on it.  She was unique, the best friend you could have, and you knew that you always got a laugh when she was around.  I miss every frustrating moment I had with her and would give anything to go to Walmart with her one more time.  I mean, just look at this smiling face, what is there not to love?

  Miss you Mom!!

I am Thankful, Grateful and Everything in Between

Thank you all for the comments these past few days.  Your kind words mean so much!  I'm not sure about anyone else, but I am pretty quiet about my blog when it comes to family.  The only person I know of that reads it all the time is one of my sisters even though one of my brother's follows me too.  I think it's a fear of being judged, misunderstood or not being good enough.  My last post was very personal and through whatever powers that be not only did my Dad find his way there but so did my other brother.  Their concern and support meant so much to me and, although I felt quite exposed, I am grateful that they read it.  It's hard for me to say how I feel and this blog is truly becoming an outlet for me to express what it hurts to say out loud.

As much as I miss my Mom, I was recently reminded that I am not alone.  So many people go through similar situations, it's a sad part of life.  I was also reminded that no matter how bad life seems, someone always has it worse.  I found out yesterday that a young man, Frankie, who I was very close with as a child has brain cancer and the prognosis is not so good.  He's only 18.  I am shocked and it puts into perspective how short life is.  Frankie's life was only just beginning when out of nowhere he and his family got this devastating news.  I can only imagine the devastation his mom feels.  If you'd like to know a little more about Frankie's story please click here.

I am so grateful that my Mom lived a full life.  Complete with kids, a granddaughter, and countless family members who loved her.  I think it's so important during times like this to focus on the many blessings and be grateful for what you have.  I've been thinking about this since yesterday and then I read a post over at TV's Take about being grateful and thought about everything some more. Then I was catching up with Diane at The Mom Stuff Community and she posted a perfect poem that sums up being grateful perfectly so I thought I would share it.  Thank you both for reminding me to focus on the positive!

I am thankful.

For the husband who is on the sofa being a couch potato, because he is home with me and not out at the bars.

For the teenager who is complaining about doing dishes because it means she is at home, not on the streets.

For the taxes I pay because it means I am employed.

For the mess to clean after a party because it means I have been surrounded by friends.

For the clothes that fit a little too snug because it means I have enough to eat.

For my shadow that watches me work because it means that I am out in the sunshine.

For a lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning, and gutters that need fixing because it means I have a home.

For all the complaining I hear about the government because it means we have freedom of speech.

For the parking spot I find at the far end of parking lot because it means I am capable of walking and I have been blessed with transportation.

For my huge heating or cooling bill because it means I am comfortable.

For the lady behind me in church who sings off key because it means I am hear.

For the pile of laundry and ironing because it means I have clothes to wear.

For the weariness and aching muscles at the end of the day because it means I have been capable of working hard.

For the alarm that goes off in the early morning hours because it means I am alive.

And finally, for too many emails because it means I have friends who are thinking of me.

Moving Forward... Holidays and Anniversaries

Today is a sad day for me.  For those of you reading this, I want to warn you that the next few days will be a little bit heavy since the anniversary of my Mom's passing is on the 8th.  I will apologize to my sisters and brothers who may read this, for you I am strong but I am not a tank (thank you Resa for the awful description!).  I remember this day last year like it was yesterday.  After Abby went to bed, my sister and I went to Walmart for my Mom.  She wanted us to pick up flowers for my aunt's birthday on the 4th.  My sister and I are terrible decision makers and we really didn't want to disappoint my Mom so it took forever to find something decent.

When we finally got home, my Mom looked at us and said, "Thank God, I've had to pee for an hour!" We felt awful but we had to laugh because my other sister was home and all she had to do was yell for help... but nope she patiently waited for us, crazy lady!

That night was a good night.  We hung out in her room.  My sister died my hair.  We laughed.  She gave me a blanket she had in her closet with a snowman on it.  She gave me one of those things that take the dead skin off your feet.  I yelled at her for giving me all of her stuff.  She told me it was because she loved me.

I went to bed and woke up bright and early but not with the baby.  My Mom was sitting on the chair in living room next to the couch I was sleeping on calling my name.  I looked at her surprised.  She was having such a hard time moving around and that chair wasn't comfy for her anymore.  She said she was in pain, a lot of pain.  She had been up all night but didn't want to wake me.  She thought the baby was waking up so she wanted help before I had to take care of Abby.  I got her morphine and helped her into bed and put oxygen on her.  She kept apologizing but in a very no nonsense way I told her to get sleep and she'll feel better.  I also told her to wake me whenever she was needed to, that's what I'm here for.
How she was able to get around with her walker so quietly, not even waking my sister who was sleeping  in her room, is beyond me.  One thing my Mom taught me is that where this is a will, there is a way.

When she woke up, I understood how she managed.  She looked at me, tears in her eyes, and said that she thought she was going to die that night.  I sat down and held her and assured her as she was telling me how scared she was that she can wake me up anytime.  I told her that she didn't have to be scared alone.  Her biggest fear, one of my brothers or sisters having to watch her die or find her after.  So, I made the last promise I ever made to my Mom... I would not let that happen.

The 4th of July is tomorrow (or today depending on when you're reading this) and I am forcing myself to enjoy the day.  My Mom always celebrated the 4th as did her Mom.  Growing up we had huge family parties at my Grandmother's.  Patriotism, laughter, food, family, fun and fireworks.  I want Abby to love the holiday too and I know that if I don't celebrate this year then I will lose sight of everything the holiday stands for.  Hopefully, my Mom, Grandmother and all those who have passed on are up there celebrating tomorrow too... my Mom drinking Amaretto and my Grandmother dressed as the Statue of Liberty (wish I had a copy of that picture to share with all of you, she was a hoot!).

I'll be thinking of my Mom and how embarrassed she was that she had to take a nap on my uncle's couch in the middle of the party (she said, "Oh, your uncle is going to LOVE this").  But, I'll also be thinking of how happy she was when she woke up.  She had more life in her.  She wanted to stay for fireworks.  She had fun.  I hope that as the years go on that those memories will be stronger than all the others.

Writer's Workshop: What Would It Take?

I chose to write on Prompt #3 from Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop:  What would it take? Write an imaginary scene where someone you are still angry with finally deserves to be forgiven.  I'm glad to finally get this off my chest and hope that you'll be honest.  Tell me if you think I'm being petty or if I'm justified in how I feel.  I won't get offended, sometimes I need an outside point of view to make sense of things.


I had this friend, we'll call her Mary, since Junior year of high school.  We had both just moved and were new at the school.  I was moving from New Jersey and she was moving from upstate New York.  Moving from a town that is 15 minutes from NYC to a town that is surrounded by tree farms with only 3 (yes, 3!) roads that lead in or out of town located in the mountains of Pennsylvania was rough on me.  It was a small town and having someone who understood was such a relief.  


We stayed friends, although sometimes loosing touch, for about 13 years.  She had a lot of trouble with her family and my Mom tried to do whatever she could to make her feel welcome.  She lived with her mom, step dad and 2 much younger brothers and always felt like she wasn't really part of the family.  One year right before Christmas, Mary was upset because she doesn't usually get anything and she's always upset on the holidays.  So, we bought her some gifts and made everyone wait until she got there to open up presents.  The funny part?  Not one person in my family minded because she was like family.


Through the years we both moved.  First, she moved to Virginia and then I moved to Maryland.  When she was pregnant with her son and I found out her mom wasn't throwing her a shower, I planned one from out of state.  I went down the day before, paid for everything, and decorated.  Her mom never even responded.


Why am I mad at this great friend?  Because I finally realized that the relationship was never a two way street.  I guess I always knew that on some level but when my Mom passed away that was the last straw.  My Mom passed away while visiting me in Maryland.  Around 3 am the morning my Mom passed away, I called Mary.  She didn't answer and I really didn't expect her too but I was hoping she would.  The next day she called me from work and all I could do was cry.  When I finally got the words out, all she could say was "Don't cry.  Can I call you later?"


I tried to chalk it up to her being at work and maybe not wanting to get upset.  But, she never called that day.  I think she may have called the next day but I can't be sure.  I did receive a text though asking me to call her but by then we were in the mist of planning the funeral and trying to figure out how in the world to piece everything together.  I just couldn't call.  Abby was 3 months old and I had 4 brothers and sisters looking to me for answers I didn't have.


The day of the funeral, Mary wasn't there.  I know it's a far ride but for all my Mom did for her and for all I did for her, she should've been there.  My Mom lived in the same small town as her mom.  A town where my uncle is the Mayor.  It wasn't hard to know when the services were being held.  I would've have been there for her.


We only spoke once since my Mom's funeral.  Mary made a comment that she wanted to be there but didn't know when anything was.  I tried to explain that it was tough to even think straight and to be honest, I think I mentioned that it was in the paper or something along those lines.  


So, on to the point of Mama Kat's prompt:  What would it take for her to be forgiven?  An apology.  I'm not sure we'll ever be as close as we once were but I wonder how she's doing from time to time.  So, in my imaginary world, Mary would admit she was wrong and tell me she was sorry.  It's as simple as that.

I am not there. I did not die.

Easter is around the corner... the first one without my Mom. I thought of her a lot today while dealing with the usual holiday problems of where to go and who wants to do what (sometimes I hate being the oldest). It made me think of when I was younger, after my parents separated, and how we would travel to my Dad's in New Jersey. My whole family, aunts and uncles on both sides, live in New Jersey. Easter was my Dad's holiday but my Mom would always make us stop by my Aunts. My Dad would get annoyed but wouldn't say anything. It was super inconvenient but I am so happy she did that. Don't get me wrong, I love both sides of my family equally but when you are at a house filled with Italians who love to eat and talk it gets hard to sneak away. Leaving always felt awkward and it never felt like the timing was right. It's so funny that sometimes the things that you hate the most will end up making the biggest impact on you. She instilled in me that family is everything. She would always remind to visit with everyone even if we were only there for a day. She was the type of person who on a long car trip would say, "doesn't cousin/aunt/nephew/etc live around here? We should see if there home!"

Everyone says that the first year is the hardest. I haven't made it to year 2 yet so I'm not sure. You have to figure things out from the start again and that's hard. All new traditions. As I was thinking of her and feeling a little lonely I remembered a poem. This poem was found after my Grandma passed away when I was young. My Grandma wasn't sick or really old and the way she died was not only tragic but also shocking. Someone (one of my Aunts or Uncles or maybe even my Mom) found it in her stuff and it was comforting to the whole family. It was almost as though it was put in a place it would be found when the time was right. I hope someone reading this feels the comfort I do.

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

By: Mary Elizabeth Frye