No Nonsense Grammy

This morning, Renee came to me to tell me that she had been dreaming about Mom again. I think that she's very lucky to have this special connection with Mom; whether or not you believe in that kind of stuff, the conversations that the two of them have are so realistic to me that it's hard to discount the idea of it.

Either way, in this dream, Renee asked her Grammy what it felt like to die. Such a serious question, but so Renee.

In typical Grammy fashion, Mom said to her, "That is classified information, Renee."

 

Yup...no nonsense Grammy! Mark laughs how she would always tell you like it was, but do it in such a way that there was no way that you could be angry or resentful towards her.

I miss the twinkle in her eye and her spunky self so very much.

A Mother's Love

"There is nothing like a mother's love for her child."



Mom would often quote those words to me in hopes that it would help me to understand the decisions she would make regarding my sister, Renee. From the perspective of my 17 year old mind, I thought that she was just enabling her.

As time went on, I began to open my mind and heart to her sentiment as Mark and I became very involved in Renee's life. Although Renee was my sister and not our child, we loved her so much and only wanted the best things in life for her, just as any parent would.

And because of our love for her, when she passed away, we grieved as deeply as any parent would. Mark and I questioned our desire to become parents ourselves after living through such a heart wrenching experience. What would happen if something happened to our own child? If we felt this way about my sister, how could we even live if we lost our child? How in the world was Mom doing it?

As our friend, Michele, would say, Mom was a Rock Star. She carried herself through that horrible time in her life with grace and strength. She proved to the two of us that the fear of losing a child was not worth escaping the chance to experience that love for ourselves.



Four years later, we were finally blessed with a little girl of our own. We decided to name her after my sister, Renee, in honor of her loving and generous spirit. And though this blog post is mostly about a mother's love, as parents, Mark and I were instantly and hopelessly in love with this little person.

So THAT'S what Mom was talking about! That deep, intense love that would make you do anything for your child!

Let's compare the two photos above. One was taken in 1969 as Mom held me. The other was taken in 1999 as I held Renee. Do you notice any similarities? Yup! That look in our eyes? Adoration.

Mark called it! Mom was always right, and always the All Knowing One! Ha!

As our little peanut grew into a young lady, this love would eventually push me to throw away the parenting books and just trust in myself. This love encouraged me to really listen to this sweet, loving person, who just happened to be a very intuitive and feeling child.

Was that the easiest route? Not at all. Did everyone agree with me? Not always, but thank goodness I always had Mark and Mom to stand by to support me when I had to make a choice that might not be well received by others.

Mom had raised her girls more traditionally than Mark and I were raising Renee, but I think that life and its experiences had opened her eyes to see things in a different light. I especially became aware of this towards the end of her battle with leukemia when she became very protective of Renee and her feelings. She wanted Renee to be able to make choices regarding how much (or how little) she needed to deal with regarding Mom's end of life choices. She constantly reminded me to always remember that she didn't want her death to be a scary or terrible experience for Renee. She wanted Renee to remember the good times that she had shared with her Grammy, and never to feel guilty about the way she was (or was not) dealing with her death.

Yesterday, as we were driving to the medical school in Macon for the memorial service for Mom, Renee quietly told us that she wasn't sure if she really wanted to go. As the miles passed by, her insistence grew stronger and she became more upset.

I really want to blame myself for this, seeing that I was also very conflicted about attending. I've often said that Renee is a barometer for others' feelings, and I wonder if she was picking up my vibes of uncertainty?

Either way, by the time we arrived, poor Mark was beside himself as he couldn't resolve this emotional situation which had escalated out of control.

After taking a deep, cleansing breath, Mom's voice suddenly popped into my brain, which was quite full of turmoil at that moment.

"There is nothing like a mother's love for her child."

At that moment, I knew what I had to do. I turned to Mark and asked him if he would please go in for all of us, and I leaned over to hug my daughter. As she melted into me, I knew that I had made the right choice.



It's the choice that Mom would have wanted me to make as well. My heart tells me so.

Comfort

Grief and comfort; these two things usually go hand in hand. When someone is in pain from grief, it is human nature to want to reach out to comfort that person.

I have joked that when it comes to grief, I live in denial. I don't know if that's what it is exactly, but pushing the reality of the loss of a loved one out of your mind and your daily life is probably more like it. Some would argue that it's not healthy, but it works for me. Trust me, I have plenty of days of tears and being immersed in the reality of it all. I just choose not to remain there.

It was learning by example, I'm sure. I watched my Mom do it (and my Dad not do it) when my sister died. I knew that I could never get through a day if I let myself go where my Dad did. Everyone handles things in their own way, though, so we tried to comfort him the best way we could.

Comfort.

I'm sure that word means different things to different people. For my Dad, we quickly learned that it didn't mean talking about my sister, Renee, or even telling funny stories about her. For Dad, it meant listening when he needed to share, spending time with him, and eventually, it did include stories and laughter in remembrance.

Comfort.

One year ago today, I sat in an empty hospital room next to my Mom, who had just taken her last breath. Mark and Renee were trying to make their way up to Atlanta to be by my side, and I had never felt so alone in my life. There was a knock on the door, and in walked the hospital chaplain. He was a very sweet man who had been asked to come in to comfort me. I am ashamed to even admit this, but as this kind, gentle man attempted to comfort me in prayer, I was angry. Angry at God for taking her from us, angry at God for not allowing her passing to be in the comfort of our own home, and angry at this dear, kind chaplain for trying to comfort me. I feel so terribly guilty even sharing that.

On a humorous side note, Mark always teases me that I should have been born into a Jewish or Catholic family with all of the guilt that I carry. Since I am neither, what in the world is my excuse? Ha!

Pushing the guilt aside, I realize that those feelings of anger were fueled by my immense grief. Deep down inside, I really was gracious and thankful for the chaplain's kind words of prayer and comfort. At that very moment in time, though, just moments after my Mom's passing, our ideas of the definition of comfort were not on the same page. Just like my Dad didn't like hearing funny stories about Renee, I didn't want to hear that Mom was finally with Jesus. Finally? She was only 70 years old! Was that too long for her to be with us on this earth? Even the mention of Mom and my sister, Renee, being reunited in Heaven didn't help. Perhaps it was too soon for me to find comfort in that? Maybe in different circumstances or at a different time it would have been welcomed?

Comfort.

Once we left the hospital and began to share the news of Mom's passing, comfort came to us in so many forms.

~Words of love and support on our Facebook page and this blog.

~A home cooked meal with brownies for dessert to entice me to eat when I couldn't even think about putting anything into my tummy.

~Beautiful flowers, baskets filled with nourishing treats, cookies, and chocolate dipped fruit.

~The most lovely cards, which made me cry, yet feel so loved.

~Being taken out to dinner even when I didn't feel like going.

~The generous gift of plants and trees so that we could create a memorial garden in Mom's honor.

~A simple phone call to let us know we were being thought of.

~The flowers in Mom's memorial gardens blooming.

~Laughing with Mark and Renee as we shared stories of our very own 'Wilson'. Unlike my Dad, talking about her did make us feel better.

~Hugs. Lots of hugs.

All of these things did not make me angry, and in some way or another, I found comfort in each one of them. Matter in fact, I don't know how we would have gotten through this year without them.

Comfort.

And today, on the anniversary of Mom's passing, there was the gift of this song by Jason Mraz. If you've taken the time to read my rambling babble up to this point, please take a few minutes out of your day to listen to this. You will understand why I am asking you to do this once you hear his most beautiful lyrics.




Just like my Dad eventually found comfort in the funny stories of my sister's life, I realize that finally, I am open to different forms of comfort. Today, I am comforted by these lyrics, which are such an example of how Mom felt about life...and death.

But if love
If love is all there ever was
There will be peace on the other side
Years go fast
Live each day like it's your last
Me I'm gonna go out dancing
'Cause when I die
I'm know I'm gonna fly
Into an angel's hands
You are loved
You are loved
You are....loved

Yes, today, through my tears, I can imagine her, delivered gently into her Heaven by her angel's hands. She's been reunited with everyone she loved so much. I see her tending to her most favorite flowers and trees. She's not in pain. She is loved.

Comfort.

You are loved. That is my comfort today.

Things I have learned in 2011

2011 began as as the new year always does. There was the closing of one door, the opening of another, and of course, the celebration of my birth.

Then, our world came crashing down with the sudden loss of my mom. We knew that we were fighting a losing battle with her diagnosis of acute leukemia, but certainly weren't prepared to lose her the way we did. Almost a year later, I can still remember sobbing as I waited for the valet to bring my van around so that I could make the drive home from the hospital, alone for the first time in two years.

It's funny how experiencing something so devastating can open your eyes, heart, and mind to new moments of learning opportunities. Some of them might be meaningful or life changing, and others? Well, they just might make you laugh and fill your heart with light and love, which is exactly what you need when your heart is filled with sadness.

So, without further ado, please allow me to share some of those things with you!

I have learned that flowers from friends really can brighten a cloudy day.



Splurging on a tasty lunch for the birthday boy is worth having to eat grilled chicken for the rest of the week.



When your kiddo says that she wants to attend something called 'Momocon', you read up on it, and figure out a way to make a last minute costume out of sheets of foam and purple hairspray.



There really are quiet places to rest in Walt Disney World.



Ed truly is Superman!



You are never to old for a little game of Follow the Leader.



Life, in itself, is always an adventure. Those who travel along with us make it even richer!



Butterbeer is as delicious as everyone always promises.



There is nothing that a gihugic turkey leg won't make better!



Gifts are often more about the love you share.



You can never put enough Kahlua in a Tiramisu birthday cake for a friend who has a daughter in college!



Sharing the Disney magic with friends you haven't seen for more than 10 years is a gift to yourself.



Husbands who happily play dress up in front of masses of people are super sexy!



Sometimes...



you just can't...



get them to...



agree...



to pose for a serious photo!



12th birthdays are especially joyous when surprised with giant sombreros and spent with amazing friends!



Sometimes...



it takes more than one time to learn...



that it's just easier to join in the fun!



Family isn't always about blood.



You are never fully dressed without a moustache!



It is as wonderful to get a surprise as it is to give one.



20 years later and I love him even more.



Surround yourself with those who make your heart happy.



Those who leave this earth are always with us; if you look close enough, you will see the hints they leave for us.



Gifts aren't always of the material sense.



A memorial garden which blooms in the winter can lift one's spirit to the clouds!



Some people, and friendships, never change.



It is quite possible to love someone more than life itself.



Driving to Philly and surprising your parents will be their best Christmas gift. Ever.



Driving to New York so that your daughter can surprise her best friend by picking her up early from school is what smiles are made of.



Making new Christmas memories with dear friends is very healing to the soul.



Being included in their holiday traditions is even better!



Santa and the Pajama Fairy really CAN find you, no matter where you are on Christmas Eve.



If you can't be with your friends on New Year's Eve, Skype is the next best thing.



Some traditions never change, and never should.



Birthday morning breakfasts are perfection when nestled in a recycled, plastic Mickey dish, served up with love by your sweetie.



And just to remind me to always keep my eyes, ears and heart open, when I walked out our front door this morning, I saw this.



Right next to it, I saw this.



Daffodils and hyacinths in January? Popping up out of the ground right next to this special stone Mom and I found after my sister died? An extremely strong message to me, I'm sure.



One day at a time, indeed.

Perhaps that shall be what carries me into and through 2012. Bring on the New Year!

Making Memories with a 'Run and Hider'

While visiting with our friend, Angela, and her family recently, we decided that it would be fun to document the moment with a photograph. As I grabbed my camera, her sweet, dear Mom pulled a Grammy trick--the run and hide! I couldn't believe it! There was another 'Run and Hider' in the world?

These women will do anything they can to avoid being photographed, much to the initial frustration of their loved ones. As time goes on, though, the family of a 'Run and Hider' seems to realize that it's just a lost cause. They eventually stop insisting that their 'Run and Hider' come out from behind that palm tree, or pillar, or in Mom's case, anyone taller than she was!

Today, as I was uploading some new photos and browsing through some old ones, I realized how mad I was at myself for being so easy going about the whole situation. I hardly had any photos of Mom, except for ones like this where she was hiding her lovely face from me. On purpose.

Grammy, thinking to herself: She won't be able to see me if I hide my face in my hands. I will be invisible!



All madness at myself aside, I am so thankful for this photo. It was our last Christmas spent up in New York, and our last Christmas spent with my Dad before he passed away. Mark wasn't able to be there with us due to his job situation down in Georgia, but at least Renee had both of her maternal grandparents together. Even though she missed her Daddy terribly, she was surrounded with love and laughter that Christmas. Can't you just see it on her Grammy's face?

That's what I love most about photographs, even the ones of the 'Run and Hiders'. They spur the memories of a special moment in time that might just be buried deep within us. I will always remember that Christmas as the most difficult to date since my sister's death, but I had somehow buried the fact that it was my last one spent with both my Mom and Dad. If it wasn't for their love and support that year, I don't know how Renee and I would have made it through Mark's absence.

From now on, as I browse through my photos of Mom, I will be thankful instead of sad. I will giggle at what a little stinker she was, and remind myself that it's better to have 20 prints of her half-hidden self than none at all. That, my friends, is what making memories are made of!

Thought of the Day

I would like to thank everyone who offered their support, hugs, and love after reading my rambling blog post yesterday. Thank you for being our friends, and thank you for listening to me go on, and on, and on....

Two things happened after my emotion filled purge yesterday. First, my friend, Ahnalira, posted something on her Facebook wall last night which really spoke to me: All feelings matter.

Then, earlier today, as I was reading an email from a MPD (fancy, medical name for Mom's freaky blood disorder) list and support group that I haven't gotten around to unsubscribing from, this quote came up as the 'Thought of the Day'.

God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.

~ Reinhold Niebuhr

My sister loved this quote.

So did Mom.

Even if you don't believe in God, just go ahead and insert the person or thing which gives you strength into that quote. I am all about personal choices, and I can't bear the thought of someone missing out on such a positive message!

My heart would love to believe that I was meant to see those things as a gentle (or possibly, smack me upside the head?) reminder. Ahnalira's post was clear to me, but I've been thinking all day about that quote. My thoughts?

To me, this quote is all about trusting in yourself.

It's about being brave enough to make the choices and changes that are necessary to make yourself a better person. Not so much for others; mostly, for yourself.

It's about being wise enough to figure out what things are available for change. For example, I can't change that Mom is gone. Trust me, I would if I could. I bet if you had any control over that, you would change it for me as well. I know that for a fact because anyone who takes the time to read our blog is pretty awesome like that!

Since none of that is possible, though, there is something very important that I can do. I can start by embracing those crazy emotions and by giving myself the permission to cry at things that others may not find as a trigger for tears. Perhaps it might be a flower, or a coffee cup, or even the scent of medical tape.

Yes, I know the medical tape thing is weird. It reminds me of Mom, though, so that makes it okay. For you, it might be something more, ummmm, normal?

According to Mark, the best thing I can do is to stop being so hard on myself about the way I am dealing with days like this. He's so wise, that man of mine!

I know it won't be easy, but if I take it one step at a time, it won't be so difficult. Just like getting on the treadmill, and trying to meditate, and eating well, I know it will make me a much healthier woman. After all, if Mama isn't happy and healthy, no one is, right?

So today, I shall start with some positive, happy thoughts!

Happy Birthday, Mom, or Mommy, or Grammy, or Gramster, or The Gramatola of Rockinrolla, or Rusty, or Wilson, or PG Funk, or G-Funk Railroad, or Mama V.



If love was measured by the many terms of endearment you were known by, you would be the wealthiest woman in the world!



No wonder you let us get away with it for so long...lol!