Wednesday, 22 December 2010

Since this is my final post, I feel that I should have some "slam-bang finish" as Bing Crosby says in White Christmas.  Essentially there's just two questions that I'd like to attempt to answer: 1) What have I learned during this year of mourning my mother's death? and 2) Where do I go from here?

What have I learned?  I learned that the death of someone so dear and so close wasn't the death of me.  There were times when I questioned my survival and my existence, yet one day became the next and still I kept breathing.  I learned there are some very selfish people in this world, and every time I felt myself turning into one of them, I tried to do something for someone else.  Mom did that a lot.  I learned to listen to all those lessons that Mom had been teaching me over the last 45 years, even the ones I didn't realize.  The lessons where she taught by example rather than by lecture.  When I learned to still my own thoughts, I could hear Mom's voice of reason. I learned there's a time to break down and a time to be strong; the challenge is knowing which time is which.  I learned there are actually times when breaking down is the strong thing to do b/c once I bore my soul, there's not much more any mortal can do to me.  Kinda like when God broke Moses while wandering in the desert so he could build him back-up to the man he was destined to be.  Destiny leads me to the second question.

Where do I go from here?  The simplest answer is that I should just trust in the Lord.  I rarely do simple.  I trust that when major decisions and dilemmas arise, God will be close-by to give me clues as to how I'm to proceed.  And I trust that I will listen.  But I also must trust that I can develop a plan that will take me beyond just the day-to-day breathing-in and breathing-out.  I want my daughters to be able to reflect on my life and see a strong woman after whom they can pattern their lives while feeling free to digress from the blue print.  I want them to come-into-their-own while I'm still alive to see it; not waiting for me to die to learn how to breathe on their own. 

Another answer to the question of where I go from here it to just keep going from here.  I'll continue to mark life's major events like Kenzie's high school graduation, Maddy's baptism, birthdays, holidays, weddings, funerals.  I'll continue to mark the daily accomplishments and challenges brought by being a mother, teacher, daughter, sister, friend.  But I also want more.  I want to become and paid and published writer whose essays and stories and poems will help other people mark time in their lives.  I want to travel and write about my travels.  I want to write about little things and show them in a big way just like Georgia O'Keeffe did w/  the flowers she painted.  I have a sign in my office, "To teach is to touch a life forever."  W/ the 20 years that I've been in education I know I've touched thousands of lives and that's exhilarating as well as humbling.  I want my writing to touch millions.  That's not asking much, right?

Tuesday, 21 December 2010

Inspiration comes in the strangest places.  Today while getting my teeth cleaned, the dental hygienist asked about my holiday plans.  Of course, I had to tell her that I'd be w/ my dad and that my mom passed away last December.  This brought the tears, and I thought that would be all.  But she kept talking about her mother's death and asking about my mom's death.  Trust me....having dental tools in your mouth scraping and scratching while the tears are running down your cheeks is uncomfortable and awkward.  And still she kept talking about the loss of a mother.  She did get me a couple of tissues so that helped......a little.  Out of all this, however, there was a bright spot, and I'm not talking about my newly polished teeth.  She talked about some of the things her mother taught her like being nice to people (not sure she learned that one) and smiling at others to brighten their day (well, that made sense).  Upon leaving the dentist's office, I was in the mindset of what Mom had taught me.

When I arrived home and got the mail, I read our local newspaper.  The lead story was about the city council needing a replacement for a recently vacated position.  As providence would have it, the representative needed to be from Ward 2.  This ward is literally divided by the street upon which I reside.  If I had lived on the east side, I would be in a different ward, but since I live on the west side of N. Sixth Street, I reside in Ward 2.  One of the most important lessons Mom taught me was to give back to my community so I called the city offices and gave them my name to be considered for the appointment.  Whether I receive the appointment or not, I continue to strive to live a life that Mom would be proud of while creating a life of my own choosing.

Monday, 20 December 2010

In flipping through channels tonight, I saw that The Family Stone w/ Sarah Jessica Parker was on.  We watched that movie last Thanksgiving w/ Mom.  I regret now not asking her what she thought of the movie, but at the time I feared that it would upset her if she was relating to Diane Keaton's character, who dies of breast cancer at the end of the movie.  Not sure I'll ever be able to watch that movie again, but I am learning my lesson to say what I feel when I feel it.....no more holding back. 

Sunday, 19 December 2010

This was an amazing weekend filled w/ laughs and reminiscences, and I was able to spend the entire weekend bonding w/ my daughters.  Despite this emotional soaring, the closer we got to home, the tighter the knot in my stomach formed.  Doug refuses to leave, which causes an immense emotional strain on all of us.  He's now renigging on everything he originally agreed upon in the divorce settlement.  Iowa divorce code says he gets half of my retirement accounts even though he has no retirement funds of his own.  We had agreed that he would not pay child support in exchange for me taking over the mortgage payment and retaining all the equity.  He informed me just now that he will be requesting half of the current equity, and now he's decided to sit right behind me on the couch while I'm typing this b/c he's tired of living in the basement.  I don't know how much more of this I can take.  How quickly the soaring turns to slumping.

Saturday, 18 December 2010

Wow!  I've forgotten what it's like to have an active five-year-old and eight-year-old.  This morning we went to Lucia's gymnastics class, did some final Christmas shopping, then had a wonderful lunch at The Cafeteria in Calhoun Square.  This gave us just enough time to run back to their house to put on Under Armour, ski pants, boots, neck gators, etc., etc. before  heading out to Hyland Ski and Snowboard Area for Lucia and Isabel's ski lesson.  Maddy, who hadn't been on skis since she was four, skied w/ Lori and her friend Tim while I watched the little girls during their lessons.  Maddy had an absolute blast and can't wait to ski again.  We may be making several trips to Mankato and Minneapolis this winter! 

After a few hours at Hyland, we headed back to Lori and Heather's to get ready for a small dinner party w/ their friends Tim and Karen and their two kids.  It was a delightful evening.  I've forgotten how much I enjoy talking w/ people.  It was amazing to sit around the dining room table w/ great food, delicious wine, and stimulating conversation about religion, education, and politics.  I was so happy that Kenzie and Maddy could be part of these conversations to both expand and express their minds, and I was pleased that they could see me be happy.

Heather mentioned how her yoga instructor has given her the mantra, "This is how it is now."  It's a good mantra for me to repeat right now to help me accept that my life is changing, but I would add the phrase, "but I have the power to change it."  Some situations can't be changed such as the death of my mother so to be motherless is how my life is now.  But I have the power to change other situations such as an unhappy marriage.  The simple concept of knowing what I can change, and what I can't has been a long, difficult lesson this year.  Now to solidify any lesson and mantra, I must repeat it and repeat it until I can live it w/o even thinking about it.

Friday, 17 December 2010

(NOTE:  The next three entries were all written on Sunday, 19 December 2010, b/c I spent the weekend in Minneapolis reconnecting w/ my sister.)

Kenzie, Maddy, and I arrived at Lori and Heather's this evening.  This was the first time I've seen my sister and her family since Mom's funeral, yet we fell right into the same connection we've had all our lives as if a year hadn't transpired.  We all talked and laughed and drank wine (well, my girls and her girls didn't) until one in the morning.  I'm blessed to have a closer relationship now w/ my dad, and my relationship w/ Ron has always been solid through all imaginable and unimaginable trials.  To have reconnected w/ Lori, my only sister, is to regain part of myself.

Thursday, 16 December 2010

I'm almost afraid to say it......for fear I'll sound like a bad person.......and jinx this feeling.  I feel free.  I feel free to NOT be the perfect mother and not be the perfect housekeeper.  I feel free from judgment.  I don't know that I was ever consciously aware of Mom judging my abilities as a daughter, wife, and mother, but obviously, unconsciously I felt some.  All these thoughts came to me today while making lunch for my daughters and, of all things, cleaning the microwave.  The microwave was completely disgusting, and I didn't feel a bit guilty about having neglected it.  Instead I thought, "I know how to clean a microwave when the need arises, and that's good enough."  I gave myself permission today to NOT be perfect.

Wednesday, 15 December 2010

Today was a whirlwind of activity, and I can't exactly say where all the time went.  I gave two finals in the morning then was a grading fool for the rest of the day.  Zumba w/ Kenzie in the early evening led to chillin' on the couch w/ Maddy. 

I could say the same for this past year.......I don't know where all the time went.  Some nights were dreadfully long, but this blog helped me deal w/ all the emotions.  Some nights were just too difficult to face those emotions so I postponed them for a day.  Some nights I wished the year or mourning was over b/c I just knew all would be well by 23 December 2010.  Some nights were firsts, others were lasts.  Some nights flew by w/ the exhaustion of softball games or walking the streets of London or touring the chateaus of France.  But some nights turned into the next nights, and gradually I began to feel that I would be okay.  Because somewhere along the nights, I gave myself permission to love, honor, and miss my mother w/o regrets.

Tuesday, 14 December 2010

Last year on this date, we buried Mom.  It was a bleak and frigid day w/ wind chills that sent the temperature well below zero.  The graveside tent had blown off leaving the bare poles to frame the rows of chairs facing her grave stone.  I remember nothing of what the minister said.  I only recall feeling that my heart was freezing, and I would never again know the unconditional love of a mother for her child.

Last year on this date, I looked upon her face for the last time.  I fussed over her hair each time Dad would touch the top of her head.  I fussed just as she did each day before school as I'd sit on a kitchen chair while she brushed, combed, braided, and bobby-pinned my hair.

Last year on this date, people drove through a snowstorm to say "Good-bye" to a mother, grandmother, sister-in-law, aunt, cousin, friend, teacher, and woman who knew her mind and spoke it.  Visiting w/ my former teacher last weekend, her son, who currently sits on the city council, served one year w/ Mom.  I was proud to hear how, despite being the oldest member and the only woman, she wasn't intimidated by these younger men.  She was determined to hold the city workers accountable for their jobs, which is something the council is now realizing is a necessity. 

Last year on this date, most of her family gathered in her Sunday School room before going into the sanctuary for her service. I sat in the front row staring at the Christmas trees she had traced and cut out for her nursery students.  She was all around us that day, one year ago, and anytime I fear that feeling may be fading, I will return to this blog to relive the joy and the pain, the love and the pride.  I will not forget.

Monday, 13 December 2010

Today is the feast day of Saint Lucy, the patron saint for the eyes, which are known as the "light of the body."  The legend says that she chose to give her life and virginity to Christ so she asked to be released from her betrothal and her dowry distributed to the poor.  She reputedly took food to Christians hiding underground, and when he betrothed discovered this, he turned her in to the authorities.  December 13th marks the date when she was tortured and died.  You can read more about this legend at http://www.thebulletin.us/articles/2010/12/13/top_stories/doc4d063ea12c5a7911569565.txt. 

On this date last year, we held Mom's visitation where for three hours people came to pay honor to her.  I didn't know it at the time, but it was completely fitting that this should happen on Saint Lucy Day.  She certainly was the light of our family and a light to hundreds of small children who received their first lessons about Jesus from Lucy.  There is a Divine plan in action.

Sunday, 12 December 2010

I put my grief to the test yesterday while visiting my former teacher, and mother of one of my high school classmates, who's husband's funeral was on the 10th.  I did okay while listening to her talk of her husband's final months and days, but when she switched to talking about how wonderful my mother was, my tears welled up.  They welled up, but they didn't spill over.  Although hearing these kind words made my grief feel very raw and open, I needed to hear them.  I can't keep my sorrow locked up one year later or even ten years later.  I have to continue bring it out in the open, air it out, learn from my reaction to it, and move forward.

Saturday, 11 December 2010

Tonight's blizzard certainly reminds me more of last year.  Ron, Dad, and I did make it out to the cemetery this morning while it was just raining.  Ron made a beautiful winter/Christmas arrangement to put on Mom's gravestone.  Technically it's Dad's stone too, but hopefully I won't have to say "their gravestone" for a long time.  But I know there are days, especially now, when he is very lonely.  It's not as easy for him to get out or for others to get out to him.  It breaks my heart to hear him say that the only people he talked to in a day was the checkout clerk at the grocery store and me on the phone.  I know that if he had more than a fifth grade education and could read and write better he wouldn't have so much time to just sit.  He never believes me when I tell him he's a very smart man who knows algebra and geometry b/c that's what it takes to build and remodel rooms and staircases and do woodworking w/o any patterns.  Not being able to putz out in his shop also makes these days longer. 

After the cemetery and running some errands, we talked about the past.  Before Mom died, Dad was never one to talk about days gone by, but I think it brings him comfort now b/c Mom was a part of those days.  He told a wonderful story about how he and his cousin Paul when they were kids would ride on the wagon behind the tractor into the small town of Kesley.  They would gather rocks and throw them at the mailboxes they passed and quite good at hitting them by the time they got from the farm to the town.  He told another story of how he and Paul would catch ground squirrels and turn them in to the town grocer who would pay them a nickel.  The grocer would take them out behind the store where Dad and Paul would retrieve them and sell them to the grocer again.  I think Dad could add "shrewd businessman" to his list of talents!

I told Dad today that I'm getting a divorce.  I was worried that he'd be worried about me, but his first response was, "I figured something wasn't right."  It's funny how those closest to us see more than we realize.  He knows I can take care of myself and my daughters so there were no tears and no harsh words and no judgment.  He just wants the same thing Mom always wanted.....for me to be happy.  He also said later tonight, "Mom knows."  I added, "She also knows how unhappy I've been."  And just like that it's accepted.  Dad's a smart man!

Friday, 10 March 2010

I didn't plan it this way, but it's appropriate that today, the one-year anniversary of Mom's death, I started a new phase of my life.  I filed for divorce this afternoon.  I know this will come as a shock to many, but for those who are close to me, this has been a long-time coming.  You may question, "Why now on the anniversary of my mother's death would I choose to file for divorce?"  I know I certainly asked myself that, and I've wondered if I mistook my feelings of discontent over my marriage w/ feelings of grief over losing Mom.  But if anything, my grief should've prevented me from wanting to add another trauma to my life.  I feel just the opposite.  I feel freed.  I feel rejuvenated.  Mom's voice has been ringing inside my head for many months to "Be happy."  That's how she used to always end our phone conversations and how we'd part after visiting for the weekend.  I want to be happy, and I haven't been happy for a very long time.....much longer than this year of grieving.  No one can pick one moment or one event as the primary cause for a dissolution of marriage.  Causes build over time, and I finally found the courage to face the effects of divorce.  Maybe courage is too bold a word since I chose to do this when Mom isn't here to object, not here to hide her disappointment, not here to question what this is doing to my daughters.  I understand what this is doing to Doug and to Kenzie and Maddy.  This is a complete upheaval of their lives, and for that I am sorry.  If this year since Mom's death has taught me anything, it's that life is too short to not live it the way you want.  I'm tired of living my life for other people.  There's a great line in the movie, The Holiday, when an old, retired screenwriter says to Kate Winslet's character, "You should at least be the leading lady in your own life."  Well, I'm taking back the leading role in my life, and doing what I think is best and what I know will make me happy.  That means risking everything, but not taking risks isn't really living.  And not really living is just one step away from dieing.  I was slowly dieing from the inside-out, and I had to stop the decay.  This certainly isn't what I expected to be writing about as I anticipated this anniversary, but I think it's fitting that as I end my year of mourning, I begin the first of many years of living my life on my terms.

Thursday, 09 December 2010

Last year at this time we were shoveling out of a blizzard after having made a perilous trip to see Mom in the hospital.  When we left the hospital on this night last year, I had no idea I'd be driving back the next day to watch my mother die.  Last year at this time, I was cautiously optimistic that Mom would beat the pneumonia like she'd beat all the cancers and illnesses before.  Looking back now, I realize I was in denial already then; in fact I'd been in denial for over a year.  One of the last memories I have of Mom, when she was upright and conscious, is her patting the hospital bed wanting me to sit near her.  I did, but instead of talking about how grateful I was that she was my mother, I blabbered on about stupid, trivial goings-on in my life.  I tend to do that when I'm nervous and uncomfortable.  This is one of my regrets that we didn't have a heart-to-heart talk one last time, which actually would've been our first time.  This is something that I've tried to change in my relationship w/ my daughters so I guess I'm saying exactly what Kenzie was saying to me last night: "When I'm a mom, I'll do things differently."  I learned how to be a mom by following what my mom did, but also by going my own way too so it's only fair to let my daughter do the same when she's a mom......many years down the road.

Wednesday, 08 December 2010

Kenzie said to me tonight as we were leaving Zumba that she's going to get more involved in her kids' school activities.  You could've knocked me over w/ a feather.  I organized her AAU basketball team for two years, but b/c I didn't make bars or cookies like some of the other mothers, I wasn't involved.  She back-pedaled a little and said I was willing to do things for the arts...........gosh, you think, serving on the Patrons of the Fine Arts Board, accompanying the middle school choirs for five year, leading the campaign to save a music teacher's position.....I don't think she sees me.  She said I wasn't understanding what she had in her head but couldn't say.  What I understand is that it's not what you do but what you don't do that's remembered.  I've heard that's the same as trying to get into heaven.  God doesn't look at what you've done in your life, but what you didn't do.  Maybe I was the same way toward my mom when I was 17.  If there was anything Mom didn't do for me then, I don't remember it now.  Maybe time will cause Kenzie to judge me a little less harshly and remember the swim meets that I drove four hours to watch her swim 5 minutes, and the nights I stayed up until midnight making hats for her Mother Goose birthday party.  Every mother can quote a long list of things she did, and every teenager only remembers what every mother didn't do that every other mother did.  I'm tired, I'm hurt, and I'm cranky, and in two days I have to relive all the pain of that same night one year ago.  I'm going to bed, and pray for a good night's sleep.  I don't remember what that feels like. 

Tuesday, 07 December 2010

I did some Christmas shopping tonight and finished putting up the inside decorations.  I ordered most of the girls' presents online yesterday.  Now I need to find some time to get the outside lights put up.  I was even thinking tonight about doing some holiday baking and putting together Christmas baskets like I've done in past years.  Well, I didn't get any made last year.  I was doubting whether I'd ever get in the holiday spirit, but joy breeds joy.  Listening to holiday music, seeing other people's Christmas decorations, and helping a woman in WalMart tonight got me out of my funk.  She was vertically challenged and couldn't reach some pull chains so I got them for her, and for the first time this year said, "Merry Christmas."  Then I saw a former student and her son and wished them, "Merry Christmas."  It's like the point in How the Grinch Stole Christmas when the Grinch is just about to drop the Who's Christmas bundle over a cliff. "And what happened then...?  Well...in Who-ville they say That the Grinch's small heart Grew three sizes that day!"  Now picture me racing home w/ my packages and grinning as I prepare to carve "the roast beast!"  Well, at least chicken......I'm a pesco pollo vegetarian.

Monday, 06 December 2010

Very, very strange dream last night.  I was in a room w/ a body bag, and when the bag was unzipped my sister, Lori, was inside.  She was very pale, and I asked if she was dead.  A voice said, "No, she's just sleeping."  So I touched her hand and rubbed her cheek, and her eyes opened.  I wasn't scared.  I was ecstatic to have found my sister.  This may sound like a horribly bizarre dream, but I see it as a good omen.  Lori and I have been estranged for nearly eight months, but last Thursday we re-connected over the phone.  My girls and I are going to visit her and her family in Minneapolis in a couple of weeks.  I've missed them very, very much.  I imagine her girls have grown as much as mine have.......probably more since they're five and eight and changes are much more obvious.  I regret the time that we've lost but am overjoyed that we're not going to waste any more.  I think I've just about reached the point of accepting that "Mom-the-Gluestick" isn't here to keep our family together.  If I want to have relationships w/ my siblings, I'm going to have put forth the effort to do just that.

Sunday, 05 December 2010

If Mom was alive, she and Dad would've been here today for the girls' Christmas concert.  As it was, Dad stayed home, and I sat w/ friends to watch Kenzie and Maddy sing and Maddy play her flute.  Mom would be amazed at how much they've grown.  I didn't even recognize Maddy at first, and she was standing right next to her sister.  When did she get so tall and grown-up?  If Mom were here, Maddy would be measuring her height by standing next to Grandma.  Grandma was the measuring stick by which both girls saw how much they were growing.  Maddy hadn't quite caught up last year to Mom's height of 5'3", but she would've passed her this year.  Mom continues to be a measuring stick for how I live my life, both what she did well and how she could've improved.  No life is perfect, but each life is a building block for the next.  It's when we forget that we stand on the foundation of those who came before us that those blocks come tumbling down.

If anything good can come out of losing a loved one, I'd have to say it's that I've remembered how to be sociable.  Since I didn't have family to sit w/ at the concert today, I sat w/ a friend.  Losing Mom has taught me that family members don't have to be connected by blood.

Saturday, 04 December 2010 -- Day 349

I'm quite blah today.  I'm reaching the end of this blog, and like a ritardando at the end of a song, or a train approaching the station, I'm winding down.  Years ago when I read my great grandmother's journals, I was always amazed when she said that she didn't get much done on certain days, and then went off to list the three pies and two loaves of bread she baked; the laundry she did by hand; the meals she prepared and cleaned-up after; the sewing, ironing, etc., etc.  Mom was the same way.  When she was really sick and tired, she never complained about the pain but instead focused on all the work she didn't get done that day.  Yet, she'd go on to list how she did laundry, baked cookies, and swept the floor.  Well, Grandma Annie and Mama Lucy, I really didn't get much done today.  I just dusted and vacuumed so I can start putting up Christmas decorations tomorrow even though my heart isn't in it.

Friday, 03 December 2010 -- Day 348

I was very much out-of-sorts today.  I had no "sit in my pants," as Mom used to say.  Just when I would sit down to work on something, my mind would start to wander, and  before I knew it, my body was following.  I abaondoned ship and left my office early to go home and blow snow.  I often find that physical labor is a wonderful distraction, and I usually can work out any problem by getting my hands dirty and my neck sweaty.  Alas, today it was not to be.  While blowing the snow in front of Kenzie's garage, I didn't see the electrical cord that Doug ran from the garage's outlet to his dog's kennel.  It took several sparks before I realized what had happened, and it's amazing that I wasn't electrocuted before I could get the snow blower shut off.  Yep, the cord had been severed completely, which did make it easier to remove the half that was wound around the auger.  I think from now on when I'm out-of-sorts w/ not sit-in-my-pants, I'll just take a walk.

Thursday, 02 December 2010 -- Day 347

I dreamt last night that I found Mom and gave her a big hug.  She was wearing yellow.  She always looked good in yellow.  Once again I turned to www.dreammoods.com.  This is what it said about hugging:

"To dream that you are hugging someone, symbolizes your loving and caring nature. You are holding someone or something close to your heart. Alternatively, it may indicate your need to be more affectionate."

I know that when I started this grieving process and made note of my dreams I commented on how I was upset that I hadn't yet seen Mom in my dreams.  She's entered my dreams several times during the last few months, and now that I'm hugging her, I think it's b/c I'm ready to hold her "close to (my) heart" even though I can't hold her close in my arms.

Wednesday, 01 December 2010 -- Day 346

I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but Kenzie and I have been taking Zumba classes for about a month.  Zumba uses dance and aerobic movement set to Latin music so it's an amazing workout, it's fun, and best of all I get to spend time w/ my daughter.  This exercise has boosted my energy level, and all those endorphins really have made me happier.  Since I'm happier, I'm less focused on my loss and more focused on what I gained from being Mom's daughter.  Since I'm doing these 45-minutes classes of nonstop movement twice-a-week, I've lost weight and gained definition.  This is definitely a win-win situation.  About the only thing that would make it better would be if Mom were taking the class w/ me.  She would've loved the dance moves, and since she taught me how to dance, I guess in a way she is enjoying the class.

Tuesday, 30 November 2010 -- Day 345 (358)

I learned tonight that the best medicine for sadness, anger, and frustration is to help someone.  Oh, and wielding a hammer and crowbar help too!  Maddy and I went to Lora's tonight and tore-out the carpet in her dining room.  Hoisting furniture, yanking-up carpet, pulling out carpet staples and prying off tack strips did the trick.  Thanks for the therapy, Lora!

Monday, 29 November 2010 -- Day 344 (357)

I'm entering my final three weeks of writing in this blog, and I have mixed feelings about ending it.  At times it has helped me address feelings that otherwise would've stayed buried while at other times it has forced me to address feelings that I would've liked to have kept buried.  At times I worry that when I no longer write in this every night that I'll start to forget all the little things that I loved about being Mom's daughter.  Then at other times I think I'll be relieved that I don't have to figure out what to write about, and whether I have anything significant to communicate.  I'll try one more time.....

When Ron and I were at Dad's this past weekend, we asked if he wanted any Christmas decorations put up.  Dad didn't want to put up the tree.  I think he still feels a little guilty about not putting up the tree last year when Mom wanted to. Ron and I suggested setting out a couple of ceramic Christmas trees, but he didn't want anything.  I did manage to swap the silk tulip table arrangement for some poinsettia leaves and snowflakes.  I think I got by w/ that b/c they had been setting out all year; they were in some of the flower arrangements from the funeral.  He remained adamant, however, about NOT putting up a tree.

He called me tonight to say that he was in a "tweevil."  The young woman, "Susie," who I've written about before, told Dad he had to have a Christmas tree, and if he wouldn't do it then she would.  I admit that I was hurt that he would allow her to put up a tree, but he wouldn't let me.  I've never been good at hiding my true feelings, and Dad could tell over the phone that I was upset about him even considering allowing Susie to do what he wouldn't let his own son and daughter do.  As we talked some more, he revealed that he was afraid that if he told her that she couldn't put up a tree then she'd stop visiting him and bringing him food.  At that I had to concede, and I told him it would be okay; I wouldn't be angry if he bought a little four-foot tree for Susie to decorate.  "That's what I needed to hear," he said, and we moved on.

Sunday, 28 November 2010 -- Day 343 (356)

It was indeed a difficult holiday weekend, culminating in attending Sunday morning church service w/ Dad.  The children's choir sang, and not seeing Mom up there leading them brought the tears.  I didn't bother trying to hide them.  I've decided that showing emotion is a healthy outlet.  I'm going to try wearing my heart on my sleeve for awhile in hopes that I can better deal w/ the myriad of emotions I continue to feel.  "Showing it w/o blowing it" is my theme right now.  I definitely felt Mom's presence in church this morning.....I went, I felt, and I somewhat conquered.

Saturday, 27 November 2010 -- Day 342 (355)

They're back together, side-by-side, the flower and the humming bird. 
They're colors sometimes glow in unison then part ways.
They've been brought in from the cold to add warmth to Dad's nights.
They'll be parted when Spring returns: the flower atop Mom's grave, the bird outside Dad's window.
But for now while the winter winds howl, the flower and the humming bird are together.

Friday, 26 November 2010 -- Day 341 (354)

I'm at Dad's tonight for the last leg of the Thanksgiving weekend.........guess that's means it's the last turkey leg!  He's having a very difficult time w/ this holiday and the approaching one-year anniversary of Mom's death.  When I asked him if he thought it had become any easier to deal w/ her death, he said that he'd actually thought it had gotten worse.  In some ways this house of mourning has become a house in limbo.  This makes me question whether it's healthy to devote your life so completely to another person that when that person is gone, you find no joy in living.  Dad did mention tonight about moving her shoes from the closet to a burp tub under the bed, but when I asked if he wanted me to take them to Goodwill, he said, "Not yet."  Sometimes I think he's handling the grief and starting to move forward, like when he made a slight change to Mom's sewing room last month.  But then I see that the picture boards we made for her visitation are still propped up on the couch.  Ron has mentioned before that's it's difficult to come home b/c everything is basically as she left it so it feels like she should be coming around a corner at any moment.  I think Dad likes that feeling, but I believe it's a false sense of hope that I fear only makes him feel her loss more deeply w/ each passing day. 

Thursday, 25 November 2010 -- Day 340 (353)

Happy Thanksgiving!!  Much better day today.  We spent the day (and now the night) in Ida Grove w/ Doug's family just as we've done since 1992, except for last year, which I talked about in last night's post.  Dad spent the day w/ his sister and her family in Hampton so I was able to thoroughly enjoy this day knowing he was w/ loved ones also.  It's so important to be w/ friends and family at times when grief is guaranteed to overwhelm: holidays, birthday's, and anniversaries.

I rediscovered my love for the art of conversation today.  I say, art b/c it's a talent that I fear some are losing in this age of text messages and Facebook.  Such technology causes us to lose the nuances in facial expressions, tone of voice, gestures, and body posture. Since as much as 93% of communication comes from nonverbal messages, we' re losing a lot of meaning through these texts, emails, chat rooms, and social networking sites.  Sorry........I slipped into lecture mode for a little bit..........haven't seen students in two days..........going into withdrawal!

I'm recognizing that from the point when Mom was first given the prognosis of 2-3 years that I've been functioning in a fog, living in limbo, which all translates into not really living at all.  I'm a good communicator, well at least I used to be, and today I found that I still possess these skills, but I have to take them out and practice more in face-to-face situations.  Illness and grief have the potential to cause anti-social behavior, usually not on purpose, but they can cause us to carry this shell on our backs under which we pull in our heads at the first sign of pain.

Wednesday, 24 November 2010 -- Day 339 (352)

Very difficult day and night on this Thanksgiving Eve.  Last year at this time we were heading to my parent's house to surprise Mom.  I can still see her sitting at the table asking, "But why are you here?"  And then answering her own question by stating, "Oh.  Because this may be my last Thanksgiving."  And it was.  This weekend last year was the last time I saw Mom at home b/c the next two times I saw her were in the hospital.

She did most of the Thanksgiving meal last year both on Thursday and the following Sunday when we  usually celebrated w/ the entire family.  Most years she did it all, so the fact that she did most of it meant she wasn't feeling well.  It literally took death to slow Mom down.

Tuesday, 23 November 2010 -- Day 338(351)

 The quiche are in the oven, the pumpkin pie is on deck.  I've discovered I bake better w/ wine.............that is, drinking it, not using it.  Well, at least I had more fun this year in baking them.  We'll see what the jury says on Thursday.  Let me tell you the story of the wine that put me in this state.

For the last eight years, I've been playing piano in the Northwest Iowa Jazz Band.  I had taken this year off until I got a phone call last night from the band's leader, Steve.  The concert, scheduled for last night, had to be re-scheduled for tonight due to icy roads. The new pianist, however, couldn't make it so Steve asked if I could fill in.  Of course I said, "Yes," as long as he could get me the music sometime before the concert.  He brought it over last night...........w/ a bottle of wine to sweeten the deal.  A bottle that just-so happens to be made locally by the director of the jazz band. 

The concert went very well tonight, and after the concert one of my former students and her new husband stopped by......largely due to the promise of wine.  But they had traveled from South Carolina so they deserved it.  The wine was opened; we talked; they left; I did my baking; and now I can't feel my teeth.  What a wonderful night..........gotta check the quiche.

Monday, 22 November 2010 -- Day 337 (350)

The words aren't flowing tonight b/c I'm very distracted w/ emotions that have nothing to do w/ losing Mom.  I'm going to have to go offline to write about those b/c I'm not ready to make them public yet.

Sunday, 21 November 2010 -- Day 336 (349)

The quiet has descended.  I walk Kea now in darkness and silence, except for occasionally crunching through ice-encrusted snow.  I'm sure it was on a night similar to this when Austrian priest Joseph Mohr walked w/ his lyrics, Stille Nacht, to ask Franz Gruber to compose a melody.  Well, almost similar.....it's not Christmas Eve, but I'm aware that the approaching holidays means the approaching anniversary of Mom's death.  I'm still overcome w/ emotion anytime I think about or try to sing Silent Night, but I have hope that I'm moving toward the acceptance.  As a perfect ending to our walk, Kea spotted a doe w/ her fawn.  I kept her on a short lease and told her to still so we could watch the mama and her baby.  The fawn ate while the doe watched us watch them.....ever the alert mother.  On this stille nacht, watching the deer, I see Mom watching over me....ever alert, ever mindful, ever loving. "Sleep in heavenly peace."

Saturday, 20 November 2010 -- Day 335 (348)

I looked up and saw someone who is worse off than myself, yet he is happier b/c he has chosen to work with, rather than against, the current.

I think I mentioned several months ago a family friend who has been imprisoned for possessing adult and child pornography on his computer.  His mother called me today to ask if I'd write a character reference for him.  I didn't even hesitate in my compliance.  I know in my heart-of-hearts that he's a good kid.  Mom had personally selected him to be one of her pall bearers, and I plan to tell the judge that in my letter.  In talking w/ this kid's mother, she said that he's in good spirits and is dealing w/ things as they come.  I think that's important when dealing w/ difficult situations that we only allow our focus to be on the now and don't head down the path of what-ifs.  His imprisonment has brought him closer to God.  That's probably why he's in such good spirits.

My friend Barb forwarded me a message from her husband Steve who's teaching in Egypt.  He had recently visited Jerusalem and talked about the places he saw.  He took a boat ride on the Sea of Galilee where he saw a 2000-year-old boat that had been found in the mud.  He visited Masada and stopped along the River Jordan at the spot purported to be where Jesus was baptized.  How incredible it must be to walk where Jesus and Abraham and Moses walked.  I wonder if Steve felt a sense of peace in visiting all the Biblical icons.  Probably not since that region has been in turmoil almost from its creation.  I find it incredibly ironic that the land of prophets knows no peace, yet, even from inside a prison on the other side of the world, a young man walks w/ God and it brings him peace.

Friday, 19 November 2010 -- Day 334 (347)

Talking w/ a friend tonight about reincarnation made me wonder if I'd like it if Mom were reincarnated.  If I knew to where her soul was reborn then I'd be okay w/ it except that would mean that she hadn't yet broken the cycle and achieved Nirvana.  I just need some sign that her soul is at peace.  My faith should be strong enough to tell me it is, and maybe this is the Thomas coming out in me, but I want proof.  I want proof that her years of service to her church and her family and her community paid off, and that death didn't just end her suffering but paid for her entrance into eternity. 

For the six years that I've dealt w/ Kenzie's Crohn's Disease, Mom's cancers, my cancer and brain aneurysm I never asked, "Why?"  Not once did I question that all this should happen in my life.  And I'm still not asking for an explanation as to why I was given these bumps in the road.  I'm asking for assurance that all these bumps in the road are leading to those streets paved w/ gold behind the pearly gates.

I was raised in the Presbyterian faith, graduated from a Lutheran college, played piano for a Disciples of Christ church, and taught at a Quaker boarding school.  My life has been a quest of looking for the one way w/ the right answers to give me a life of meaning that leads to an afterlife of peace.  Maybe I've got it backward, and it's a life of peace leading to an afterlife of meaning.  Maybe I need to explore some more religions and denominations.  One thing I do know is that, for me, faith is about asking questions b/c w/o asking questions I can never find the answers.

Thursday, 18 November 2010 -- Day 333 (346)

Mom would've enjoyed this type of evening filled w/ family, friends, and community.  I enjoyed a drink w/ friends, dinner w/ my family (a rare treat lately), and the Parade of Lights down Central Avenue.  Yes, I was acting like a four-year-old, as Maddy accused me, applauding the lighted floats, begging for candy, waving at people on the floats, and joking w/ people around me.  Yet, amid all this happiness tonight, Doug's cousin lies fighting for her life in a hospital bed in Sioux Falls.  The longer I live the more I understand that to truly appreciate the good, we have to experience the bad.  There can be no happiness w/o sadness, no love w/o hate.  For this reason utopia will forever be out of reach here on earth.  It would stand to reason then that those, like Mom, who have entered heaven have no understanding of the pain and sadness we suffer as a result of their passing.  So it must further follow that for Mom's spirit to be drawn to me here on earth, I need to surround myself w/ only happiness, goodness, and love. 

Wednesday, 17 November 2010 -- Day 332 (345)

There are times when I just want to crawl in a hole and hide, hoping no one will find me.  I know it's a blessing to be needed, but I think it's also possible to be needed too much......especially when I'm putting others' needs before my own.  I don't think I could've talked to Mom about this one since she seemed to thrive on fulfilling the needs of others. 

Okay, I'm back......Maddy needed me to pick her up from youth group.  And that's exactly what I'm talking about.  You should probably just ignore me right now.......I'm tired and whiny.  I actually do a lot of what I want to do: going to zumba and purse parties and a holiday parade of homes and Coffeehouse & a wrestling meet at the college, although the latter two were mostly for my students.  For the most part, I'm living my life on my own terms.

Tuesday, 16 November 2010 -- Day 331 (344)

I don't take compliments well.  I tend to feel awkward and embarassed and have been known to avoid potential compliments altogether.  For example, when I used to play piano in church, people would come up to me afterward to tell me how much they enjoyed my playing.  Sometimes I would actually duck-out through the front of the church while people were filing out the back.  I know it appeared that I was being rude and stuck-up, but I have always found it difficult to just say, "Thank you" and leave it at that.  I always feel the need to lessen the compliment b/c I don't feel like I can take full credit.  By lessening the compliment, however, I realize that I've belittled the person.  I remember numerous times after Mom would receive a compliment on her appearance or a performance of Lucy's Kids or my kids, she would do the same thing.  And she would say to me, "I really should just say, thank you' and leave it at that." 

I also have a difficult time when people offer me sympathy.  I've always felt that if people feel sorry for me then I must be weak and helpless.....feelings I don't take kindly to.  B/c if they think I'm weak and helpless then I must have to act that way.  This line of reasoning starts the tears welling in the back of my eyes.  Again, I know they mean well, and I should just say, "Thank you," but I get so busy trying to avoid the tears and side-step the sympathy that I appear like I'm rejecting other's compassion.

Monday, 15 November 2010 -- Day 330 (343)

About 20 years ago I started using cloth bags when shopping.  Mom made my first ones, and now they're starting to get holes in them from frequent use and washing.  I used them in class today when modeling for my students a persuasive speech on reducing, reusing, and recycling.  I came close to losing it when I said, "I don't know how I'll patch them since my mom is gone, and I can't sew to save my life."  Just when I said it, I looked at a student who had such sadness and sympathy in her eyes that I took every ounce of public speaking experience to hold it together. 

I had a similar experience yesterday while talking w/ a friend about how different her relationship is w/ her mom compared to my relationship w/ mine.   Talking w/ this friend reminded me that mother's aren't always biological.  Anyone who touches our heart and guides our spirit is a mother.   I was blessed to have been related to my spiritual guide so that when I look at my hands or my face or my Bunyan, I can see her.

I've fallen into a depression again lately....the kind where I just go through the motions of living w/o embracing life.  Maybe I need to seek more help than this blog can offer.  I just want to be happy again, but I don't know how.  I just want to breathe w/o feeling guilty and not think how difficult it was for Mom to breathe near the end.  I want to cry w/o worrying that it's been too long since her passing and that I must be a wimp for still being overcome w/ an all-consuming grief at any second.  I just want to feel normal, but I think it's been too long for me to find my way back there.

Sunday, 14 November 2010 -- Day 329 (342)

It dawned on me this morning while washing dishes at a benefit for a local woman battling leukemia (yes, I was using Dawn dish washing soap), that Mom's first and and last jobs outside the home involved washing dishes.  When she was an adolescent, she and her cousin, Evelyn, washed dishes for the lady across the street.  They had to split 25 cents.  Mom's last job was working in the school cafeteria running the dishwasher.  She had to split her wage w/ the government.  Running the sprayer today, I pictured Mom in her corner of the cafeteria kitchen spraying down the lunch trays.  She was a pleasant lunch lady, and most of the kids always said "hi" when dropping off their trays.  Her former Lucy's Kids usually had a big smile to go along w/ the greeting.  Probably one of the greatest lessons I've learned from Mom is to never be too proud to wash dishes or scrub toilets to make money or help others.  She certainly did both.  I first learned how to clean toilets by helping her clean the shelter houses and bathrooms at the city park.  People do some really disgusting things in public restrooms, but cleaning them gave me a greater appreciation for any public restroom I've used since.  All this went through my mind while washing dishes this morning.  That's another reason I like manual labor......gives me time to think.

On a separate note......I felt tonight the frustration of being 150 miles from Dad.  He has his next cataract surgery on the 18th but has to start the preliminary drops tomorrow.  First, he thought he was supposed to start them on Tuesday, and then he couldn't remember which ones he was supposed to take.  After two frantic messages to Ron and a failed attempt at reaching David, I'm sorry to say that I dropped it in Ron's lap.  I tried to help Dad over the phone, but I only confused him.  At times like this, I really hate being so far away from him.  And now w/ wintry weather upon us, I worry that I can't get to him when he needs me.  I'm heading there on the 19th so I hope the weather and the roads cooperate.  I thank God that Susie (I think that's the alias I gave her) stops in several times to visit w/ Dad and bring him food.  I guess "what-goes-around" really does "come around."  Susie helps Dad, I helped Patty.

Saturday, 13 November 2010 -- Day 328 (341)

Apparently I didn't overdo it on the champagne last night since I didn't wake w/ a headache this morning.  Good thing, since Maddy and I drove home in near-blizzard conditions.  This drive reminded me of last Christmas Eve when we were trying to get to Dad's and had to turn around.  Either I'm too stubborn or too stupid b/c I kept going.  I'm just glad Maddy was along to keep me company.  We got a chance to play word games like we used to do when she and Kenzie were younger, and we go to talk and giggle.  These are the kinds of moments that become memories just like all the car rides w/ Mom where we sang silly songs, and she told us stories of the people she knew........Rosie Butts and Oscar Meyer.  Honest, she swore those were their names. 

Friday, 12 November 2010 -- Day 327 (340)

My brother got married tonight.  It was a lovely ceremony in their living room in front of the fireplace w/ it and candles burning and white roses on the mantel.  He and Dan both wore white boutonnieres that Phil made for the occasion.  The judge wore her black robes and talked gently and sincerely about the joy of two lives joining.  Afterward, we all drank champagne and discussed how happy we all are that Iowa passed same-sex marriage and what will happen if the other justices who voted for it are ousted like the three during the recent November 2nd voting.  The judge's husband, who was also present for the ceremony, is a divorce attorney.....strange combination.....she marries people, and he helps them get divorced.  Anyway, he informed us that now that Ron and Dan are legally married, they will remain so regardless of what happens w/ the law.  How frustrating it must be to have others dictate who you can marry.  Thank God we live in changing times where marriage is based on love and commitment, not gender.

Driving from my house to Ron and Dan's today was the first time I've driven that route since Mom died.  She died in Allen Memorial Hospital just a few miles from their house.  Driving conditions were oddly similar.  I was driving like a bat-out-of-hell that time too and was oblivious to my surroundings.....I know, not a good combination when driving.  At least I wasn't crying the whole way this time, but it was raining outside so that condition was pretty much a wash. 

When Ron told Dad about his wedding and that I would be driving down for it, Dad's only remark was, "Well, don't expect me to be there."  Unfortunately, even if Mom were alive right now, she would've had a similar comment.  When my sister Lori and her now-spouse, Heather, had their commitment ceremony nine years ago, Mom and Dad refused to go.  I know that friends and family will always disappoint us just as we'll always disappoint friends and family, but I was really hoping Dad would at least say, "Congratulations."  I can't be mad at him, however, for having different beliefs.  Doing so would make me a hypocrite.  If I want others to tolerate my beliefs then I must tolerate theirs as well.  Tolerance does not equate agreement.

For me, I completely agree and tolerate the marriage of my brother Ron to his friend, partner, and lover Daniel.

Thursday, 11 November 2010 -- Day 326 (339)

I've started wearing Mom's short, black leather jacket.  It's a beautiful coat, but I'd rather she was wearing it.  I found her gloves in the pockets.  I kept them there.  They're a little too small for my hands, but I'll keep them in the pockets just the same.  I like wearing something that I know has touched Mom's hands and arms and shoulders.  There's also a dime in the right pocket. I'll just keep it there too.  I like to hold onto it when I put my hand in that pocket.  The left pocket held used tissues.  Those I threw away.  I'm sentimental, but that's pushing the envelope.

Wednesday, 10 November 2010 -- Day 325 (338)

My students are doing their informative speeches.  A nontraditional student did her speech on quilting.  I knew this was her topic, but I hadn't even considered how I would respond to it. Mom tied a lot of quilts for herself, her kids and grandkids, and for others through her church.  While I listened to my student's speech, I had the tightness in my stomach and the burning in the back of my eyes that always prefaces a powerful emotional reaction.  As she showed different quilting frames, I thought of the plans that Mom had been making for this past summer to set up her quilting frame in the basement and teaching my girls how to tie quilts.  The quilt tops are finished, and I should tie them w/ the girls to carry out Mom's plans. 

In Mom's sewing room there's hundreds of quilt squares in all sizes, colors, and patterns that Mom cut out....probably during the winters while Dad was watching TV.  Someone should turn all those squares into quilt tops.  I don't know if I have it in me, both ability and stability.  In a frame, also in her sewing room, Mom kept a partial quilt top that her mom had started.  I think she found it to be a special connection that she shared w/ the mother she never knew.  I feel like I need to do something w/ all the quilt tops and squares to keep that connection w/ my mom.  Maybe that should be my project for my second year of mourning.

Tuesday, 09 November 2010 -- Day 324 (337)

In the midst of feeling like I'm cursed, I learned yesterday that my brother Ron is marrying his partner of 30+ years this Friday.  So, Ron, if you're reading this.......I'll be at your house.....Friday at 5:30.....camera in hand!  Ever since Iowa made same-sex marriage legal a couple of years ago, he and Dan have talked about getting married.  And now that Iowa voters chose to get rid of three of the Iowa Supreme Court Justices, the future of the same-sex marriage law is uncertain.  I'm not sure if this is their reasoning for tieing the knot now.  Actually, they should've been considered common-law decades ago, but I won't pursue that path here.  I'm just so happy for him.  And that happiness supercedes all bad luck. 

Monday, 08 November 2010 -- Day 323 (336)

Remember that skit on Hee Haw where they sang, "If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all.  Gloom, despair, and agony on me."  That's the way I was feeling today.  Had another "discussion" w/ Kenzie, Maddy is grounded, Dad's regretting having had cataract surgery, Doug started a new job but won't get paid until the end of the month, the boat motor blew up.....again, and Kea has fleas.  Oh, and Mom is still dead.  Very depressing day.  It was funny to listen to others' misery on the Hee Haw skit....I'm not laughing now.

Sunday, 07 November 2010 -- Day 322 (335)

Kenzie mentioned tonight that she's looking forward to Thanksgiving.  It's nice to hear that's she's anticipating something, and especially nice that's it's something that involves family.  In the past, we've gone to Doug's side of the family from the night before Thanksgiving until the day after then we'd head to my family.  We altered that routine last year since we only went to Mom and Dad's.  Kenzie's comment means she's looking forward to a return to tradition.  But it won't be a complete return.  I've asked Dad what he wants to do, but he's really avoiding making a decision.  I think Thanksgiving will be the hardest for him b/c it was the last holiday that Mom was with us.  Two weeks later she was gone.  How will I measure time after the year of this blog is done?  Most of my entries have been about times past or times to come.  Maybe when this blog is over I'll start writing about present times?

A high school friend's daughter is getting married.  Plans will be made.   Time will be counted down until "the big day."  We mark time by these kinds of events.  We all do it.  Then the wedding will be marked by anniversaries and then children will enter the picture for whom all kinds of events will be marked.  I hope they all focus on the process leading up to these events.  The journey is longer than the end result so it makes sense that we should focus on what we do to get there, not on actually reaching it.  I think there should be an event known as "Happy Next Day of Your Life."  After all, every day is the next day until it's not.  But most days get lost marking time for the next event.  Breathing is a big event.  I'm just going to look forward to my next breath.

Saturday, 06 November 2010 -- Day 321 (334)

Mom's voice is still in my head, or maybe she was actually beside me today while I was cleaning and Maddy was baking b/c I had answers to questions before I even realized what I was saying.  For example, Maddy was having difficulty spreading the chocolate chip bars on the baking sheet so I told her to use the back side of a wooden spoon.  How on earth did I know that?  After the bars were done, she wanted to frost them and use tubes of colored frosting so she could write a message.  The frosting was hard so I told her to put the tubes in a bowl of very hot water to soften them up.  It worked.  But how did I know that it would work? 

I washed a few windows today.  I usually use a Trasan rag that my mother-in-law gave me, but all of them were dirty,  Then I heard a voice in my head say, "White vinegar and ammonia will leave your windows streak-free."  Either I was really listening all those times that Mom instructed me on how to do things, or she's walking beside me helping me answer questions and solve problems.  Either way it's nice to know that I'm not going-it alone.

Friday, 05 November 2010 -- Day 320 (333)

We don't any of us go through the mourning process alone.  That's important to remember.  We help each other mourn.  Ultimately, yes, it's our gig, but I couldn't do this w/o friends and family.  And I hope that I'm helping them go through this as well.  Sometimes, however, I get so engrossed in my own grief that I forget that I have to help my daughters through this process too.  I tried again today by telling them something that Mom always used to say to me.  Before I tell this story, keep in mind that Mom never considered the word, shit, to be profanity.....to her it was a bodily function.  So today after someone left one of the bathrooms especially stinky, I was reminded of a time when I made a crass remark to my brother David after he left the basement bathroom in a similar manner.  She said to me, "Are you so sweet that your shit doesn't stink?"  So I said this to my daughters this afternoon, and then I asked, "Does that sound like something Grandma would've said."  We all laughed and agreed that it did. 

As trivial as this sounds, the moment was monumental.  Neither Kenzie or Maddy has wanted to talk much about Grandma Miller so I think if I just give them little tidbits of her periodically, they can come to terms w/ their loss in their own time.  Baby steps.  You can't walk until you're ready, and no one starts out running.  I'll teach my girls to take baby steps so in time they'll be running.

Thursday, 04 November 2010 -- Day 319 (332)

I wouldn't say I'm a slave to fashion, but I like to look nice w/o spending a lot of money to do so.  My frugality is undoubtedly part of my Dutch heritage, which I inherited from Mom.  Growing up, most of my clothes, pajamas, swimsuits were made by her.  Yes, even swimsuits.  The one I still remember was a two piece that actually covered my mid-section.  The top half hung loosely over my middle and was made out of a white eyelet material.  I'm pretty sure it was lined.  Not that a 10-year-old has much to reveal.  Mom was an extremely talented seamstress, but when you're 10, fashion is more important than frugality.  This was about the same time that the jeans w/ the double zippers were in-style.  The cool girls in my school had them so naturally I wanted a pair too....not b/c I was one of them but b/c I aspired to be one of them.  I don't remember what they cost, but whatever it was, it was too expensive so Mom made me a pair.  They looked pretty close to the store-bought style, and I wore them, but they just weren't as cool as the "real" ones.  Homemade and hand-me-downs were my style.............not much has changed.

Wednesday, 03 November 2010 -- Day 318 (331)

I've noticed lately than when people ask me, "How are you doing," I've been able to truthfully reply, "Fine, thanks."  Many times I've used this same reply simply b/c I know the person asking really doesn't want to hear how I'm actually feeling, and I don't always want to go into the truth.  It's easier just to say, "fine" and move on.  When I was growing up, my aunt Adelyn would call our house several times a week.  If I answered the phone, she'd ask me how I was doing, and I always said, "Fine."  One time she commented on that I was always so cheerful.  I think that was my first glimpse into how much our moods and attitudes can influence and affect others.  I've never been much of a complainer so it never crossed my mind to say anything else, no matter how I was really feeling. But for now it's nice that I can say, "I'm doing fine," and mean it. In American Sign Language when some asks, "How are you?"  If you want to say "Fine," you spread out your fingers and tap your thumb to your chest twice, as if to say, "My heart is whole."

Tuesday, 02 November 2010 -- Day 317 (330)

I submitted the following article for consideration to a new magazine called Voices that will come out next summer.  I don't think I'm breaking any regulations for publishing it here since it hasn't been accepted.  I've proposed this as a four-part series so if by some chance this first piece is accepted, you'll have to read the others in the magazine.  If it's not accepted, I'll publish the other three articles here at a later date.  For now, this is part one of A Life With "Ologists." 


 A Life with “Ologists”


Part One

By Mari Miller Burns





Stop me if you’ve heard this one. What do a gynecologist, oncologist, dermatologist, ophthalmologist, cardiologist, neurologist, urologist, pulmonologist, and gastroenterologist have in common? Me. I have had the pleasure of seeing each one of these specialists either for myself, my mother, or my daughter over the last 42 years.

We’ll start w/ my mom. She was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in 1968 when I was four and she was 38. Enter the gynecologist and oncologist. She had a complete hysterectomy, which she came through fine, but after she returned home, a blood clot travelled from her leg to her lung sending her back to the hospital. All total she was in the hospital for about four weeks. My main recollection during this time was confusion as to why I couldn’t see her. At that time, children weren’t allowed to visit patients on the floors, even if it was a parent. I was shuffled among family and friends while Dad worked during the day and visited Mom in the hospital at night. I remember falling asleep most nights on someone’s couch only to wake in my own bed the next morning. No one told me where Mom was, or what was happening to her. No one tried to reassure me that she would be okay and would be home soon. Maybe they didn’t think she would and didn’t want to get my hopes up. I think anything would’ve been better than my silent confusion. My sister was 10, but no one had bothered to tell her anything either. When I was finally allowed to see her, it was just a few days before she was released to go home. All I remember of that time is standing beside her bed sobbing because I had at last found her, and I couldn’t even sit on her lap or give her a hug.

At that time we had no health insurance, few people did, or at least it wasn’t something I recall hearing about. Maybe others did, and we were just too poor. Dad had started working for the city the year I was born, but either they didn’t provide health insurance, or cancer wasn’t covered. Mom made arrangements with the doctors and the hospital to make monthly payments. She always told me, “Even if you can only pay a few dollars each month, at least they know you’re trying.” I know friends, family, and our community helped out with monetary donations, and when I started school in 1969, my sister and I were given free lunch tickets. I always thought it was cool that I could trade-in my crinkled, used lunch ticket, and the school’s secretary would give me a crisp, new one. My sister was horrified. I guess 11-year-olds have more pride than five-year-olds.

The biggest impact Mom’s first cancer had on me was the difficulty I faced starting Kindergarten. I didn’t want to go. I was afraid that Mom would be gone again by the time school was out. Even though I only went to school every-other-day, I dreaded the days that she would walk me to school. On each of those days she’d leave me crying at the door of my classroom. She told me years later that she cried all the way home too, but my crying didn’t stop after she left. I cried for hours. I remember my teacher taking me in the back room where we kept our coats and telling me that I had to stop carrying on. It didn’t help. Finally, she asked my mom permission to spank me to get me to stop crying. Mom agreed. I only recall one spanking so I guess it worked, but I think for the wrong reasons. I stopped crying because I feared the spanking more than I feared Mom going away again. I can only wonder how that episode would’ve played out if someone had just sat my little five-year-old-self down and talked about what was going on with my mom and my worries and my fears.

If someone had talked to me, maybe I wouldn’t have felt like I had to be my mother’s protector. Since the blood clot had travelled from her leg, the doctors told her she was not to cross her legs. I don’t know how I knew this, or if any one charged me with this duty, but I was vigilante in making sure Mom didn’t cross her legs. I can recall times sitting at her feet and uncrossing her crossed leg while I listened to her talk about how she had to swallow radioactive gold and then lie on a table, turning every 15 minutes. I had no idea what radioactive gold was, but it sounded rich, and maybe my sister wouldn’t be embarrassed any more about getting free lunch tickets. The irony of that gold was that it’s probably what led to the leukemia 40 years later, but that’s for another story.

Monday, 01 November 2010 -- Day 316 (329)

I was out of line w/ last night's post and would like to post a retraction.  I shouldn't have been so hard on Dad.  After all, when I wasn't feeling well, I wanted Mom so it's only fair that he should be more needy too.  He saw his local eye doctor today, and she gave him very positive feedback so that eased his mind some.  There's not a more lonesome feeling on this earth than to be sick and feel there's no one to care for you.

Sunday, 31 October 2010 -- Day 315 (328)

We went to church w/ Dad this morning. The children's sermon was about Zacchaeus. Of course all the kids knew it b/c Mom had taught them both the Bible story and the song: "Zacchaeus was a wee, little man. A wee, little man was he.  He climbed up in a Sycamore tree for the Lord he wanted to see." I could see her doing the hand motions as she led the kids during music time.  Yep, that brought the tears. It brought them again just now recalling it.


I love visiting Dad, but leaving him is so very hard, especially now that I have to leave him alone w/ no one to help him w/ his eye drops.  Before I left I had to check the basement television set to make sure no buttons had been switched that wouldn't allow him to watch videos and DVD's down there.  He had a video, dated 14 April 2001, that we used to make sure everything was set up properly.  In the video, we were all there at Mom and Dad's for the Easter weekend, and I was actually videotaping so that meant that occasionally we could see Mom.  She was watching her grandchildren and great grandchildren dance to a Wiggles video.  The smile on her face was huge, and even after all the other adults left the room, she stayed to watch them.  She truly loved children.....hers and everyone else's. 

Saturday, 30 October 2010 -- Day 314 (327)

It was Beggar's Night in Aplington.  Maddy, Doug, and I each took turns handing out candy at Dad's.  This was always Mom's job in past years.  Dad would sit and watch for the trick-or-treaters, while Mom was elsewhere in the house doing stuff....she rarely had much sit-in-her-pants.  When he saw some coming to the door, he'd holler out, and she'd go hand out the candy.  She loved seeing all the kids in their costumes, and she knew most of them.  All her Sunday School kids had to stop by to show her their costumes.  Us being here to night was partly to ease the transition of yet another tradition, and also I wanted to be here to help Dad w/ the drops for his eyes.  He had cataract surgery on Thursday and has to put multiple drops in his eyes multiple times throughout the day.  His hands shake quite a bit, so he doesn't feel comfortable doing it himself.  Ron had been doing this since Monday so I came to take the weekend shift, but Dad's going to have to do it on his own tomorrow night when I'm gone.  I'm beginning to think Aunt Irene was right when she said women make better widows than men make widowers. 

While playing cards tonight, Dad referred to me as Lucy.  I was sitting in her chair and keeping score as she always did so I guess it just slipped.  He knew his mistake immediately, and it shook him up a little after he realized it.  I am getting a little concerned that he's becoming more confused and forgetful about simple things.  He has a remote control plug that can be put on his portable heater, but this afternoon he couldn't figure out how to hook it up.  This is something he's done for years, and he had all the parts, but it just wasn't clicking in his head how the heater hooked into the remote control plug and then into the outlet.  Dad is amazingly mechanically inclined so this was really atypical.  I'm hoping his eye surgery still has him a little loopy and that's the cause. 

Friday, 29 October 2010 -- Day 313 (326)

Driving to Dad's tonight, I was wondering what my life will be like in five years.   Maddy will be done w/ her studies at Iowa Lakes Community College and moving out of the house to transfer to another college.  Kenzie will  be graduating from college and possibly starting grad school.  Up until now I've had a definite plan and direction to my life.  I've been a daughter, a student, a teacher, a mom, and a wife so I asked myself what I wanted to be next, and where I wanted to be doing it.  The answer I came up w/ is, "What does it matter?  Mom isn't here and Dad probably won't be in five years.  So what happens when I stop being a daughter?"  I know I need to live for now, but it's just out-of-character for me not to have at least a five-year plan.  I'm realizing that I never built this part of my life into my plan.  I never thought what my life would be like when my parents are gone and my children are grown.  The thing is, however, that I've never wanted to plan for this part, and I'm still not looking forward to it.  Yes, this is denial.  Recognizing it and putting a name to it doesn't make it any easier.

Thursday, 28 October 2010 -- Day 312 (325)

The other night I mentioned that I've been shocked at how grieving has affected my sleep.  It also shocks me that my grief can rear up so unexpectedly.  Kenzie and I went through her baby boxes looking for t-shirts that she wants on her graduation quilt.  In looking through one box, we came across her first Easter dress, pink w/ white polka dots and frilly, lace trim.  Seeing that dress again after 16 years caught me off guard.  The tears were spilling, and my chest was heaving before I knew what hit me.  Mom made that dress for Kenzie.  She was so much a part of my daughters' childhoods that I saw Kenzie and Maddy wearing each one of those outfits w/ Mom holding them on the swing, in a kitchen chair, or on the patio.  A little, pink, polka-dot dress did all that.  It takes a lot of love sewn in to have that affect.

Wednesday, 27 October 2010 -- Day 311 (324)

The last two nights I've dreamt that each of my grand nephews has been asleep, and not just asleep but hibernating on a storage shelf.  My daughter Maddy is there w/ me, and we try to wake them, but they're sleeping sound.  She picks them up and their arms and legs just flop like rag dolls, but eventually they wake up.  And that's the end of the dream.  Dreammoods.com says that seeing someone else sleeping in my dream means there's a situation that's alluding me.  The fact that these children don't know that I'm watching them could mean that I have some knowledge or talent that I haven't yet realized.  Seeing Maddy in my dreams means there's something in my life I'm trying to nurture.  I guess it's quite obvious then that I know something, and I want it to grow, but I just haven't told myself what it is.  I hate it when I do that. 

While searching for the meanings of this dream, I found an interpretation about a parent dreaming that a grown child is young again.  That reminded me that when I was in my early 20's, shortly after my divorce and living in Texas, Mom told me that when she dreamed about me, I was always a little girl.  Dream Moods says this meant she was still seeing me as dependent and that she didn't feel needed and important.  Why didn't I see that back then?  I remember that she had asked me if I wanted her to come down to Austin to help me while I was going through the divorce.  I told her that wasn't necessary b/c it would just be too hard to see her go back home again.  Obviously I should've let her come down.  She needed me to need her, and I blew her off.  How could I have been so incredibly selfish?  And what makes it worse is that I didn't even realize it until now, at a time when there's nothing I can do to make amends w/ her.  Yes, I can promise to be a better mother, wife, sister, daughter to Dad, and friend, but that doesn't let Mom know that I needed her then just as much as I need her now.  Maybe this is what has been alluding me.

Tuesday, 26 October 2010 -- Day 310 (323)

I gave blood today.  While the blood extraction specialist was cleaning the crook of my arm w/ iodine and a very light touch, I started to giggle.  Yes, literally giggle while sitting on the extraction table.  She couldn't stop b/c she needed my arm to be sterile, and I couldn't stop b/c once I start to giggle I'm like a roller coaster that keeps going to the end of the ride.  One lady in my extraction pod said that she'd never had so much fun while giving blood.  I've noticed that I've been giggling more lately.  I've been giggling more while wrestling w/ my daughters and while sitting at the dinner table w/ my family.  Just being silly and giggling.  It feels good.

Mom used to tell this story about the first time she gave blood.  The extraction specialist told her to squeeze the ball whenever she breathed.  After awhile, Mom didn't think she was breathing quickly enough so she started squeezing more frequently and pumping away.  As you might guess, when she went to stand up she got light headed and started to faint.  Dad, who had been giving blood right next to her, saw her start to go down, and tried to catch her, which in turn caused him to almost faint.  She always giggled when telling that story and thinking about the sight of them.  Mom wasn't able to give blood very often, but she was always there helping at the blood drives....smiling, not giggling.

Monday, 25 October 2010 -- Day 309 (322)

Having never mourned the loss of someone close, I've had no idea what to expect on a daily basis.  I never would have fathomed I'd have such difficulty sleeping.  When Mom was sick,  my nightly prayers were pleas to heal her, and I always made a conscious effort to say, "please."  I think too many times we ask God for things, and we forget our manners.  Lately, however, I've tried in my nightly prayers to only focus on the "thank you's."  I'm trying to handle the pleas more on my own.  I have a quote that I keep in my office.  Last year I put it on the wall behind my desk so I'd be reminded of it every day.  This year I put it in my closet.  Maybe I need to get it back out.  It says, "Sometimes God calms the storm, and sometimes He lets the storm rage and calms the child."  Mourning is about accepting that the storm is going to rage around me, and I can't do anything about it.  Accepting that Mom is gone for always, and accepting that I will have times when I can't sleep, or don't feel like eating, or have no desire for conversation.  I'm noticing though that if I keep my prayers focused on appreciation rather than appeals, my last thoughts before drifting off are not of Mom.  And then I seem to sleep better. 

Sunday, 24 October 2010 -- Day 308 (321)

Kenzie returned home safely last night from her first trip away by herself.  She drove to SDSU in Brookings, SD Friday after school and stayed w/ her cousin in the dorms.  It was a wonderful experience for her as she continues to do more to strike out on her own.  I'm actually pretty proud of myself in that I wasn't calling or texting her every five minutes.  I wish Mom was here so I could ask her how she dealt w/ this time in child rearing.  It had to be incredibly difficult to see Ron move to Los Angeles, David to Alabama, Lori to Houston, and me to Austin....each when we were in our early 20's.  I do know that in the 80's before the era of cell phones, we made arrangements to talk on Sunday nights.  I remember waiting anxiously by the phone and don't ever recall thinking it was a chore to have to talk to my parents.  Perhaps time has faded any false feelings, but I think that's a gift the passage of time renders.  We forget the faults and foibles.  I hope those who know me will be so forgiving when I'm gone......better yet, I hope they can forgive me my flaws while I'm still here.

The last time I was home to see Dad, we looked through their lockbox.  This is an old one that is kept in a closet, not in the bank.  Amongst all the copies of legal documents was the first letter I wrote to Mom and Dad when I went off to college. In it I didn't talk about anything particularly sentimental, but she kept it for 28 years.  After I read it, Dad took it and put it right back into the lockbox.  He doesn't want to change anything inside the house.  When he or Ron or I dust and vacuum, we put everything right back the way it was.  Mom kept my room exactly the way I left it when I went to college, and it stayed that way for 10 years after.  My siblings called it The Shrine.  Maybe that's part of how Mom dealt w/ me going to college and leaving her w/ an empty nest.  She kept the nest in tact just like Dad is doing now.

Saturday, 23 October 2010 -- Day 307 (320)

I should clarify something about last night's post.  My inspiration for the story was some of the sayings and songs I remember Mom using.  I find myself using them all the time but take for granted that others don't know what I mean.  Probably the expression that I associate w/ her the most is, "a lick and a promise," in relation to any task that she only had time to do halfway.  She'd do the task quickly then promise to do it twice as good next time.

Since I teach communication, I'm always fascinated by how people say things and the different meanings that could be assigned.  We need to recall and record all these expressions from our parents and grandparents to help put their lives and times into perspective.  I worry w/ this texting generation that all they'll have to pass down is "lol" and "prly" and "idk." (The spellcheck has just short-circuited b/c it doesn't recognize any of these.)

Friday, 22 October 2010 -- Day 306 (319)

Sometimes story ideas just come to me, and I have to get them down before they're lost.  This is what happened when I sat down at the computer two hours ago, and the story below is the result of the last 120 minutes.  Pictures would really make this story come alive so if there's anyone out there who's an illustrator....let me know!

A Lick and a Promise


by

Mari Miller Burns



Lucy was spending the day with her grandmother. It was Wednesday, and she always stayed with her grandmother on Wednesday because she only went to preschool on days that started with a “T.” Since this day started with a “W,” she was spending it with Grammy.

“Let’s go, Lucy,” sang Grammy. “We need to run to the store.”

“Do we really have to run all the way to the store, Grammy?” asked Lucy.

“No, my dear. That’s just an expression.”

“What’s a spression?”

“E-X-P-R-E-S-S-I-O-N. That just means it’s one way to say something,” Grammy explained. “Now let’s put on our coats.”

Grammy always sang the same song each time they had to bundle up for colder weather.

“’Zip up you jacket, put on your cap. Mister South Wind is taking a nap. Mister North Wind will nip at your nose and freeze your fingers and your toes.’”

“Did Mister South Wind really have to take naps like she did?” Lucy wondered. She thought he probably snored if he did.

When Grammy sang the word nip, she’d tweak Lucy’s nose, and that made her think Mister North Wind was probably too nice to turn her fingers and toes into icicles.

At the store, Lucy smiled at all the chocolate bars and suckers and jaw breakers. She looked over at her hand wrapped in Grammy’s hand, followed it all the way up to Grammy’s face and whispered, “I wish I could have all the candy in the world.”

The man behind the counter said, “If wishes were fishes, we’d all have a fry.”

Grammy laughed. Lucy looked confused. She’d wanted candy, not fishes.

Just then a sweet smiling lady came over to Lucy and handed her a licorice whip. “Go ahead, Child, it won’t bite,” said Sweet Smile.

“That’s silly,” thought Lucy. “The licorice can’t bite me. That’s what I want to do to the licorice.” She looked cautiously at the candy just to make sure it didn’t have any teeth then she looked to Grammy for a sign that it was okay to take it.

As Grammy nodded, she reminded Lucy, “What do you say?”

“Thank you,” chirped Lucy and sat on a banana box by the meat counter while Grammy visited with Sweet Smile.

As Lucy listened, she heard Sweet Smile say, “Well if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black.”

Lucy looked up from her licorice. “How could a pot talk?” she wondered. The thought made Lucy giggle, and the giggle made Lucy gag.

Grammy rushed over, pulled Lucy’s hands above her head and said, “That must have gone down your Sunday throat, Little Lucy.”

“But, Grammy,” sputtered Lucy. “It’s Wednesday.”

“I know, Sweetie. That’s just an expression. I think we’d better be going.”

After lunch it was time for Lucy’s nap. Grammy always sang the same song:

” I love you, a bushel and a peck,

a bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck,

a hug around the neck and a barrel and a peep,

barrel and a peep and I’m talkin in my sleep,

about you…. about you….

I love you, a bushel and a peck,

you bet your pretty neck I do!”

Lucy knew a bushel was a basket because that’s what Papa always told her she needed when she tried to shuffle the Old Maid cards. But how could Grammy love her like a basket?

One time she heard Papa ask Grammy for a peck on the cheek, then saw her give him a kiss. So Grammy loved her like a basket with a kiss on the check.

She knew all about hugs around the neck. Grammy had told her she gave the best of those.

She knew what a barrel was because that’s where Grammy kept her rain water, but what did that have to do with a baby chick saying, “peep”?

Lucy didn’t think she talked in her sleep, but she never really knew because that’s where her eyes got heavy and she always missed the peck on the cheek Grammy gave her when the song was done.

After Lucy’s nap, Grammy had cookies and milk waiting on the kitchen table.

“Let me just give this floor a lick and a promise,” Grammy said as Lucy munched on her Snickerdoodle. “Then we’ll go rake up some leaves so you can jump in them.”

Lucy wondered why Grammy would lick the floor and then make it a promise. “What are you going to promise it, Grammy?” Lucy asked.

Grammy just snickered and put the broom away. “That’s just another expression, Honey.”

“You sure use a lot of spressions, Grammy. I guess that’s why you’re so sprecial.”

Thursday, 21 October 2010 -- Day 305 (318)

Making CoCo Wheats this morning for breakfast reminded me of Mom's CoCo Wheats when I was growing up.  She always made us hot breakfasts once school started each fall, a tradition that I've always continued w/ my girls.  I've mentioned before that Mom was an amazing cook, but her CoCo Wheats were terrible.  They were so lumpy and dry that I had to add milk until all flavor was lost.  The thought of those lumpy CoCo Wheats made me smile while stirring them on the stove this morning.  Not b/c of the sweet memory but b/c this was something that I was better at than Mom.  Is it normal for a daughter to feel in competition w/ her mother?  Even w/ her memory? 

I've always compared my cooking, housekeeping, mothering, community service, and work ethic to Mom's.  And when I felt that she was edging ahead in the mothering or homemaking departments, I would rationalize that she wasn't a full-time employee outside the home while being a full-time mom.  She only ever worked part-time jobs and that wasn't until I was in elementary school.  I've been working full-time jobs since I was 20 and been a full-time mom on top of that since I was 29.  What am I saying?  It was never a competition for her.  She always conceded that she never had to contend w/ two, full-time jobs, but I never wanted her concession.  And I sure as hell don't like winning by default b/c she's dropped out of the competition. 

Wednesday, 20 October 2010 -- Day 304 (317)

Dad's excited about going to the Amish country tomorrow.  This has been an annual trip that he and Mom made w/ my Aunt Irene, Aunt Jean, and cousins Myron and Carol.  Last year Mom was w/ them.  She loved those types of outings, day trips w/ friends or family to see new sights or revisit old ones.  Shortly after Mom passed last year, I was concerned Dad wouldn't want to continue these trips and traditions.  I know they're hard for him, but staying home alone is even harder.  He's discovering he's stronger than he ever imagined.  Mom was always the strong one so he never really had to be. 

There were times, years ago, that I would think about Dad being gone and Mom being left alone.  I don't want to say that I looked forward to that time, but I thought it would give Mom and me a chance to travel and spend time, just the two of us.  I am glad that I've had the chance to get closer to Dad.  When Mom was alive, he'd talk on the phone to me for a few minutes and then would excuse himself to go watch TV while Mom and I continued to talk.  Now, some nights we talk for 30-45 minutes.  I never thought this possible a year ago, but then there's a lot of things I never thought possible a year ago.

Tuesday, 19 October 2010 -- Day 303 (316)

I had to watch It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.  I bought the DVD several years ago so I can watch it multiple times leading up to Halloween.  Linus is definitely my favorite.  His innocence and unyielding faith inspire me. 

Such an amazing night...full moon, crisp air, clear sky.  I don't know which star is located just below the moon tonight, but it's so brilliant it makes the moon even brighter.  What a beautiful relationship that something so small, rather than being outdone or out shown by the moon, enhances it.  Makes me think that my infinitely small life life has something to contribute to the universe.  Maybe that's the meaning of life, that we make all other life around us that much brighter and better just by being close.  That was certainly the meaning of Mom's life. 

I was also thinking tonight how the last time I wrote about being blissfully happy, the bottom fell out of my life.  I'm tired of being afraid to be happy, worrying that the happiness is short-lived.  I'd rather have fleeting moments of happiness to sustain me through the sad times than worry when the sad times will return.  They will return, and I'll make it through.  But it would be really nice if I could have seven-weeks of bliss and one day of sadness.  The hope that this is possible keeps me going.

Monday, 18 October 2010 -- Day 302 (315)

Last night I dreamt that I was unpacking boxes and organizing a house.  I don't even have to look that one up to know that I'm feeling in greater control.  I'm caught up w/ my grading and ready to submit midterm grades.  I only need to get the girls' curtains hung and the inside of my house will be put back together.  I'm in a good place.  Now I can start getting the outside ready for winter.

I played the piano tonight.  I mean really played it.  For me.  I wasn't accompanying anyone or being a rhythm instrument.  I was playing Chopin and Bach and Mozart and Mendelssohn and Rimsky-Korsakoff for me.  I haven't played  most of these pieces in over a year b/c I haven't felt inspired to do so.  Playing the piano was probably what Mom loved for me to do the most.  When I lived in Texas, I made a recording of myself playing all kinds of songs: sacred, secular, classical, country, pop and sent it to her.  She would set the tape recorder on the piano bench in the living room and listen to me play while she was in the kitchen cooking or doing dishes.  She said it made her feel like I was right there in the next room.  I wish there was a way I could play a recording now of her rattling around in my kitchen. 

I have the bedroom suit that Mom and Dad had when I was growing up.  Even now as I open the drawers to the dresser and bureau, the clanging of the handles against the drawers brings me back to the days when I slept in the bedroom just above their room.  And I hear the muffled sounds of Mom and Dad through my bedroom floor as they talk about their days and say goodnight.  I don't ever want to lose those sounds or sights or smells.  I hope reading this blog again in years to come will help me recall them all.

Sunday, 17 October 2010 -- Day 301 (314)

I woke up w/ a sty on my eye.  I have no idea what exactly a sty is, but it must be some type of infection.  And thanks to Mom's home remedy, I got rid of it.  I boiled water, poured it over a tea bag, then wrapped the teabag around a teaspoon, and put it on the sty to draw out the infection.  It worked, like always, just like Mom taught me.  One of the things that scares me is not having Mom around to give me all those suggestions for what worked for her in the past and all the home remedies her mother taught her.

P.S. I had a very lonely image today.....Ron and I sitting at the table on Mon & Dad's four-season porch filling out thank-you's for Dad's funeral.  When we did that after Mom's funeral, Dad opened all the cards then handed them to us to record them and write the thank-you's.  Who will be there when Dad's gone?

Saturday, 16 October 2010 -- Day 300 (313)

Sixty-five more days.  Sixty-five more entries.  One thousand, five hundred sixty hours.  When I look back at where I started 313 days ago when Mom died, I didn't think I could possibly make it through one minute w/o her.  Then one minute turned to one hour, and I was driving Dad's van back to their house.  One hour turned to one day and planning her funeral.  One day turned to one week, and I was staying w/ Dad to help him adjust.  One week turned to one month, and I was throwing myself back into teaching.  One of Mom's favorite religious songs just came to mind, in fact it was a song I had selected for her funeral until we found her selections.  I think Kris Kristofferson wrote it, but Mom always listened to the Cristy Lane recording: "One day at a time, Sweet Jesus.  That's all I'm asking of you.  .......  Lord, help me today.  Show me the way.  One day at a time."

Friday, 15 October 2010 -- Day 299 (312)

I got up this morning and made cupcakes.  I heard Mom's voice in my head last night as I was falling asleep, "You can get up a little earlier and make them."   I just made white frosting so now Maddy and her gal pals can make them any color they want.  They'll be home from the football game any minute so I'd better finish this before the chaos returns.

It still hits me, that sinking feeling that catches in my throat and punches its way down into my gut.  Mom is gone.  It scares me when that happens b/c not only does the reality return, but I worry that the feeling comes upon me so suddenly b/c I haven't thought about her enough today.  And tonight while walking Kea through the leaves I thought about the song Mom used to teach her Sunday school kids at this time of the year.  "Brown leaves crunching when we talk. Air that is frosty when we talk."  If I'm really quiet in these moments before the teenage topsy-turviness, I can almost hear her singing it.

Thursday, 14 October 2010 -- Day 298 (311)

I will have six teenage girls in my house tomorrow night.  Maddy's having a sleepover.  We went to WalMart this afternoon to get supplies, and tonight Maddy wanted me to bake cupcakes or a cake, but I've lost my motivation.  I never had many slumber parties, as we called them back then, but I remember a couple of boy/girl parties.  I only got one birthday party w/ my friends when I was 10.  All other birthdays were celebrated w/ family members and maybe just one friend.  I don't recall minding it that much, and I do recall several times that stand out in my memory.  For one of my birthdays, my friend, Pam, spent the night.  Bodysuits were popular back then so we took off our pants and pretended to be gymnasts doing somersaults across my double bed.  With my friend, Brenda, we talked and talked, but after awhile I said we had to turn out the light b/c I was afraid it would cost my parents too much money to have the light burning.  My friend, Deb, stayed w/ me one week while my parents went on vacation w/ some friends.  My bedroom floor was lost under all the dirty clothes that piled up.  Thinking back now that took a lot of trust for my parents and Deb's parents to allow two high school seniors to spend a week home alone.  I'd like to think that I would have that kind of trust w/ my daughters.  Doug wouldn't.

Mom probably would've baked those cupcakes, but I'm going to bed.