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.

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!

Death sucks for the living

Okay, maybe that title isn't the most ladylike that I've written, but today, that's just how I feel.

Last year, on this same day (February 20th), I wrote about my sister, Renee. It had been 15 years to the day since her death, and I finally felt as though I was in a better place with 'living' with that realization. I know that sounds totally dramalicious and all, but for a family who just lived in denial about it most of the time (how else do you survive?), it was a big thing!

Here we are again, one year later, 16 years since she left us, and I feel like I have taken about 10 steps backwards. Mom's death has a lot to do with that, I'm sure. It's been almost a month since we lost her. An important part of our support system is gone; we all leaned on each other and lifted one another up on the tough days.

The other day, I wrote to my friend, Lynne, about some recent 'Deep Thoughts by Mare'. Scary, yes, but most of my deep thoughts are emotionally charged ramblings that come from the heart. If those kinds of things freak you out, just close the page now. That's the only warning I am going to give you, so don't blame me later on! ;)

If you are still reading, here are some bits and pieces of what I shared with her. Today, they seem so relevant to me for some reason.



I've been thinking a lot about death, and it's strange how similar, yet different, it can be for each person in your life that you lose. When we lost my sister, Renee, almost 16 years ago, it was sudden and unexpected. She traveled often, so although there was such a void in our lives, our brains dealt with the loss by just pretending she was away again. That was all fine and good until the reality of it all set in during the most unexpected times. I remember sobbing in Mark's arms when we took a cruise we had planned to take with Renee. The smell of the ocean (she was a total beach bum) just hit me like a ton of bricks. It was reality smacking me right in the face!



I lost my Dad just a little over 3 years ago. Although my parents divorced when I was 5, I was very close to him. We shared a love of horses and guitars/music, both of which he did for a living. When we moved from New Jersey to New York, he would drive the 3 hours from Pennsylvania to come up and visit us. He loved little Renee so much, and there was nothing better in life to him than just being her Poppy. Then Mark got the job in Georgia. This was very hard on all of us, especially when Dad suffered a stroke and I couldn't be there to help and support him through his recovery. We spoke on the phone numerous times during those long weeks, but it wasn't the same for either of us. Dad died at the end of the year, and it wasn't a good type of closure for me. There was a huge amount of guilt on my part. Again, like with my sister, there were miles between us so it wasn't in my face 24/7. It gave me time to come to terms with the loss before I had to recognize that he was really gone.



With Mom, it feels different. Not only has she been with us since Mark and I got married (20 years ago this November!), but our lives have revolved around her cancers for the past two years. Everything that we did (Renee's homeschooling, shopping, vacations, what I was going to cook for dinner) was scheduled around Mom. It feels weird to just be able to pick up and go somewhere without having to make sure Mom is okay. It almost makes me feel guilty.



Mom and I would always joke about how I would deal with her being gone. Her favorite scenario was that Renee and I would make a life-sized cut-out of her and sit it in the glider in her room so that I could walk in there and talk to her...lol! It was something that we did everyday; I would make her coffee, walk it into her room, and we would chat about anything and everything. She thought the idea of me having conversations with a piece of cardboard after she was gone was hysterical!



Mom just had a fantastic sense of humor about it all, but we were very realistic about how our lives would eventually end up. She told me a long time ago that she had 70 wonderful years on this earth, and when God decided it was her time to go, she didn't have any choice in the matter anyway. How true that ended up being; she never did get to die at home with hospice and her family surrounding her with love. Instead, it was just the two of us in a hospital room. I am just so thankful that my stubborn side came out of hiding and I stayed with her, Lynne. I don't know how I would be dealing with the guilt of not being with her when she died.

Deep thoughts, indeed. Sometimes, I curse the fact that I am such a sensitive, feeling woman. On days like this, I wish that I wouldn't even think about the fact that it is a 'death anniversary'. How stupid is that? I know we all should be celebrating life, but my emotions are just too caught up in the reality of the moment. I'm sure if Mom's death wasn't so recent, it wouldn't be as raw to me today.

It also wouldn't be as obvious that three people who walked through this life with me aren't walking beside me any longer. That feels kind of weird.



But yet, here we are, Mark, Mare, and little Renee, three beings touched by the love of some amazing souls yet left without their presence on this earth. We all know they are in a better place, but our daily lives feel so empty without them. We are all so lucky to have each other, though. Maybe that is their gift to us?

As I sit here trying to find a way to end this post in a positive light, Renee just showed me a quote that popped up on a game she was playing on her computer.

"A well spent day brings happy sleep, so life well used brings happy death." ~Leonardo Da Vinci

Wow.

Are there angels watching while I vent here on our blog? Perhaps they feel as though I need some positive light sent my way via Renee's 'Virtual Families' game? If so, then many thanks, angels who watch over me.

And now that positive light is radiating from my soul, I can honestly say that no matter how many years they had on this earth, Mom, Dad, and Renee loved with all their hearts. If that isn't using life to the fullest, I don't know what is.

Maybe death doesn't have to suck for the living. Maybe death is a reminder to live and love and fight the sadness with all that you are.

Today, in honor of my sister, I am going to focus on the love that they all so selflessly gave to me. I doubt I would be the person I am today if I didn't experience that love.

And today, I am going to send love back to all who have stood by us during these sad days in our life. Words could never express how amazing you have all been. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

Now that I have worked through all of that, what should I do about the title of this post? ;)

What is the definition of generous?

Generous (adj.)

generous - willing to give and share unstintingly; "a generous donation"
charitable - full of love and generosity; "charitable to the poor"; "a charitable trust"
generous - not petty in character and mind; "unusually generous in his judgment of people"
unselfish - disregarding your own advantages and welfare over those of others

The only thing missing from those definitions is a photo of my Mom. In life, she was such a caring, giving woman. Before she retired, she worked as a nurse who cared for geriatric patients, most of whom were at the end of their lives on this earth. A few days ago, before we lost her, I was filing some papers away and found some cards that were given to her by patient's families. While reading them I felt such happiness; they were talking about my Mom! She loved and cared for her patients as though they were her own family, and her kindness and generosity was always so appreciated by their loved ones.

Now, in death, she is doing one of the most generous things I believe a person can do. She made the very altruistic choice to donate her body to a University/School of Medicine here in Georgia. Her decision was based on not only the memory of her days in nursing school (where there was a serious lack of cadavers to learn by), but also by the knowledge that her lymphoma and leukemia could possibly help someone battling those terrible diseases in the future.

I am crying tears of pride as I write this tonight. Although we won't be having the traditional funeral or service, just knowing that her gift will enrich and expand a future doctor or nurse's knowledge brings me such peace.

Although I was the only one there with her when she took her final breath, Mark and Renee came to be by my side as quickly as they could safely get to the hospital. We said our last goodbyes in a lovely, quiet room, just the four of us. We had plans for her last days to be at home with us with hospice, but that wasn't meant to be. Instead, we shared an experience that reminded me so much of the day Renee was born, except that we were saying goodbye to Mom instead of hello to baby Renee. There were tears, hugs, and smiles. It seemed surreal, yet perfect, that we were able to be there together. It was just a special, beautiful moment in our lives.

She will be with us forever, in our hearts.

Love remains

"The love we give and receive is all that matters and all that is remembered. Suffering disappears; love remains." ~ Bobbie Probstein

Forever Young

Forever young.

That's what my sweet friend Gail left as a comment after I posted on Facebook that my sister Renee would have been 38 years old today.

She was born on April 27th, 1971, two years my junior, the blond to my auburn. We lost her when she was just two months shy of turning 24.



After fighting as most sisters do through our teen years, she happily agreed to walk me down the aisle to marry the man who would love me forever. As we strolled towards his smiling face, we both cried like crazy. She leaned down and whispered in my ear that I was the most beautiful bride ever, which made me cry even harder.



A few years later, the three of us traveled together on a dream vacation to Mexico. She got tan, I got sunburn, and Mark stepped in to play her bodyguard when quite a few men in Cancun wanted to whisk her away and marry her.



A year later she was gone. Our family would never be the same, but in some ways, the loss of someone we loved so much made us appreciate each other even more.

Gail, who loved Renee as her own, also wrote to me today that the warm weather makes her think of Renee. My sister absolutely loved the beach, and it was the place that made her happiest. I've read that some believe that Heaven is your own idea of utopia. If that is true, then I'd like to paint a picture of Renee's Heaven...

The scent of suntan lotion permeates the air, nature's boom box plays the sound of waves crashing on the shoreline, coral painted toes are buried in the sand, and there's not a care in the world.

If I could imagine her anywhere, that would be it.

And somehow, that thought makes me smile a little on a day when I miss her so, so much.

Can Mare share?

They just make me so happy.



Now, back to your regularly scheduled blogging. ;)

Love

Apple pie love!