Wednesday, 31 March 2010 -- Day 101 (114)

I talked on the first about this month coming in like a lamb, and at the time it seemed like it was. Despite still having two feet of snow on the ground on March 1st, the day was sunny and calm. Well, it may be unprecedented, but March is going out like a lamb too in the truest sense of the word. It was sunny, warm, slightly windy, and no snow! A day for shorts and flip flops and Frisbees. We used to call flip flops, thongs, but I've learned to use the popular slang so as not to confuse or reveal too much of my apparel. The only flip flops I ever owned were the rubber kind where the strap part always broke through the hole. It was so frustrating, especially if you were on your bike w/ the spiky pedals. Mostly I wore tennis shoes or sandals, and I certainly wouldn't have been allowed to wear flip flops on Easter Sunday. Easter Sunday was for white, patent-leather shoes, w/ white lace-top socks, white gloves, white purse, white hat, and a new dress and cape that Mom would make every year. I loved those capes. They were the kind where you put your arms through the holes in the front and then there was some type of button, usually w/ a chain attached to it, to close it. I remember capes in prints and plaids, blues and greens and yellows. I loved those capes so much that when my daughters were younger, I asked Mom to make them each one for Easter. Theirs were red w/ gold buttons, and they loved them just as much as I had, even using them as their Hogwarts capes when the Harry Potter books first came out.

Back to those flip flops. My girls wear them w/ jeans, shorts, skirts, dresses......Kenzie even has a silver-sparkly pair that she's wearing w/ her prom dress. I know Mom would find this incredulous, but then she'd laugh and say something like, "Well, the times they are a-changing." She won't be here for Kenzie's first prom. Mom loved things like that, probably b/c she never got to go to prom when she was in high school. She and Dad did go many years ago when the local high school held a prom for adults. I don't remember all the details, but Mom and Dad had their picture taken. She was wearing the yellow dress she made for herself for my first wedding, only she'd cut it off so it wasn't floor-length. That means it must have been in the mid-to-late-eighties. I know she was tickled to finally get to go to the prom w/ her yellow, arm-band corsage and her yellow, sling-back pumps. She was definitely not wearing flip-flops.

Tuesday, 30 March 2010 -- Day 100 (113)

This is my 100th post. Some may think that's 100 too many. Television shows seem to make a big deal out of the 100th episode. For me it's just one more day without Mom. It had to have been hard for her. She spent three-fourths of her life without a mom. How did she do it? I've only been battling the motherless void for 113 days, and she lived it for 60 years. I wonder if she felt as lost as I do most days. If she did, she never let on. I wonder when I say my prayers tonight, if God could patch me through to Mom. I'd sure love to talk to her. Just talk about whatever pops into our heads. Right about now we'd be talking about the upcoming Easter holiday...meal plans, who's bringing the egg dye kit, making sure she's got an angel food cake mix and coconut and green food coloring and jelly beans, wondering what I can bring. It's all different now. Ron and Dad are coming here for Easter. My other siblings are choosing to be elsewhere. Mom was definitely the glue that held this family together, and she did it all without a mom to teach her how.

Monday, 29 March 2010 -- Day 99 (112)

It's my brother Ron's birthday today. I won't reveal which one this is, we'll just suffice it to say that he's older than I, although he delights in telling the story of the hospital chaplain who thought he was the youngest. We were all gathered, Mom, Dad, and us four kids, before my dad's open-heart surgery when the chaplain came in to chat and pray. He wondered at the order of the four of us kids, placing me as the oldest and Ron as the youngest. I'm still convinced Ron paid him to say that!!

I admire my brother's youthful outlook and positive attitude....both of which he inherited from Mom. Ron has fibromyalgia, which means he endures daily pain of which I can't imagine, but every time I talk to him, he's upbeat. Every doctor's appointment, procedure, and surgery that Mom endured he was right there, regardless of how he may have been feeling. That's truly a selfless love, and I know Mom and Dad appreciated it more than their loves and thanks could communicate. Thank you, Dear Brother, for your love and support, and I wish you a year of healing and health and happiness. How many weeks till we leave for Europe??!!

Sunday, 28 March 2010 -- Day 98 (111)

I talked w/ Dad earlier this evening, and he said he found an old, wallet-size picture of Mom on the floor in the basement near the treadmill. He has no idea how it got there or where it came from. His first instinct is that someone was in the house so he's taken to locking the doors each time he leaves; a task normally reserved for bedtime and overnight trips. My first instinct when he told me about it was that Mom's spirit was in the house and placed it there for a reason. I don't even know if Dad believes in ghosts so I didn't verbalize these thoughts. We chalked it up as a "mystery" and left it at that.....at least I did for now.

Walking the dog tonight I encountered another mystery.......where did all the snow go in an apparently speedy fashion? It seems like just last week I was still walking the dog down the sidewalk through tunnels of snow, yet even now my memory of all that snow is fading. I have to really search my memory to recall that the snow was a high as the side tables on the swing that sets on the cement slab in the middle of the lawn. I'm afraid my memory of Mom will be as fleeting, and that each day I'll have to work harder and search deeper to recall that she came up to my shoulders, and her kneecaps were knobby from years of mopping on her knees, and her right index finger (or was it her left) had two little bumps on it that she used to put ink dots on so they looked like boobies, and how her hair used to be black like Liz Taylor's until she stopped dying it and then it was a beautiful silver. I can't let her melt away, forgetting how she would gently call my name from the bottom of the stairway to wake me for school and church, even years after I'd grown and moved away and returned home for weekends. Mysteries are meant to be solved, memories to be sustained, and hard work is required for both.

Saturday, 27 March 2010 -- Day 97 (110)

My fast track students presented their persuasive speeches this morning....well most of them were informative, but one of them hit a little close to home. She talked about making our final wishes known to our friends and family. She said she didn't want a funeral for people to say, "How good she looked," b/c she wouldn't look good, she'd look dead. It just hit me wrong b/c Mom didn't look good, and I wasn't happy w/ the way she looked....they didn't give her a smile. And then I thought how we almost gave Mom a funeral she didn't want, if it hadn't been for my sister finding Mom's final wishes. Writing down your final wishes only works if you let someone know you've written them down. I guess Mom had faith that someone would find them, or she just figured if we didn't, she'd still be just as dead and what would it matter. My student said funerals aren't important, but I have to disagree. Funerals, like cemeteries, are for the living to have closure, but I have to agree that such closure shouldn't come w/ a $10,000 price tag.

I did learn something interesting from that student's speech in that there are only certain places where cremated ashes can be spread, and you have to contact the DNR to find out where they are. Now honestly, how will they know if my family takes my ashes and lets them fly in the wind from the top of a lighthouse? They can just say they were cleaning the fireplace. Yeah, that could work. So I guess I just made my final wishes known: toss my ashes off a lighthouse and the rest you can do as you please in whatever way helps you grieve and/or celebrate.

Friday, 26 March 2010 -- Day 96 (109)

I had the house to myself for a few hours this evening so after yet another hectic week, I put in one of my other "feel-good" movies, Pride and Prejudice. Jane Austen is my absolute favorite author b/c she mocks the constraints of her contemporary society. Austen's works give us a true look at her time, and I find that refreshing even over 200 years later. This particular novel and movie are my favorite, although Persuasion runs a close second, b/c of the obvious snobbery based on a person's station in life. There is much pettiness and triviality even today, but every once in awhile my breath catches b/c something monumental happens. Last night sitting at Avenue Q is a perfect example. Before the performance a local man went onstage to acknowledge and thank the people who had made the evening possible. The first people he recognized were himself and his husband. Right there in Mason City, Iowa, on the campus of North Iowa Area Community College a man could proudly announce the contribution he and his husband had made to their contemporary culture. It gave me hope that the pride and prejudice that pervades our society, much as it did in Jane Austen's, is starting to break down.

Thursday, 25 March 2010 -- Day 95 (108)

We're going to pretend like I wrote this last night at about 10:00 right after I got done seeing the musical,Avenue Q, w/ Lora and one of our students, Louisa. That's about the time I was driving home from Mason City. It was an amazing production w/ characters to whom I could relate (even the puppet ones); singing that was phenomenal by actors playing multiple roles sometimes simultaneously; blocking that was intricately timed to coordinate two people sometimes maneuvering one puppet; the spectacle of a large floating puppet head, and a set that looked like a pop-up book w/ different windows and compartments opening and closing. No, Louisa, you cannot use what I just wrote as part of your reaction paper for our theatre class.

This day and this night reminded me of the beauty and joy that can be found in life through music, theatre, movement, and time spent w/ friends.

Wednesday, 24 March 2010 -- Day 94 (107)

My daughter Maddy went to school w/ me today.....she was my guest speaker. She asked me a couple of weeks ago if she could give an informative speech to my students, not for a school assignment but b/c she wanted to. I know.....my students were amazed too that an 8th grader would volunteer to give a speech to college students. Maddy was absolutely fantastic w/ her poise and preparation, and she gave me some excellent examples to use as I lectured to my students on how to include supporting materials in their speeches. She presented her seven-minute informative speech about car accidents to my three classes and set the bar, raised the gauntlet for my students to follow. They were both shocked at how well this 13-year-old could give a speech and dismayed at how they would have much work ahead of them to come close to equaling her.

Anyway, what I really wanted to talk about tonight is the wonderful day I got to spend w/ my daughter. I took her out for lunch, the least I could do in lieu of a speaker's fee. When we returned from lunch, we walked up the long sidewalk from the parking lot to the college door in a manner similar to how Mom and I used to walk when we were being silly. I tried to walk in-step w/ Maddy while she tried to get out-of-step w/ me. The result is a lot of skipping, shuffling, and uproarious laughter. Anywhere Mom and I would walk, we'd play this game until we were oblivious of the blocks we'd covered and sad when our destination was reached. I hope someday Maddy will walk this way w/ her child and will think of me and the day she came to work w/ me to give speeches.

Tuesday, 23 March 2010 -- Day 93 (106)

My name is pronounced Mary but spelled M-A-R-I. This made it absolutely impossible to find those leather name bracelets that were popular in the 1970's. Maybe I whined enough or maybe Mom felt guilty for giving me an other-than-normally-spelled name, but one Easter when I was 13 or 14 she gave me a silver bracelet w/ my name engraved on it. It cost much more than a leather one, but all I could think of was that it wasn't like the ones the other kids my age had. What an idiot I was, and I can only hope I didn't say something stupid and ungrateful. If I did, Mom never let on. I still have that silver bracelet. I'm wearing it right now, which means it survived a lot longer than those leather ones that usually pulled apart around the snap.

Mom enjoyed giving gifts at Easter. They were different than Christmas gifts b/c I usually only got one thing, but it was a really nice one thing, and it was usually jewelry. I got out the Easter decorations tonight, and it wasn't until I was cleaning and decorating that I remembered that my silver name bracelet was an Easter gift all those years ago. How lucky I am to have had a mom who knew how to make special times even more memorable.

Monday, 22 March 2010 -- Day 92 (105)

In the swoop of a school board vote, one school nurse is now w/o a job. Just like that....one minute she's employed by the district, the next minute she's unemployed. Sitting in on this board meeting, I'm reminded of death, w/ the board members playing God. I know, I know....I'd promised to turn over a new leaf and focus on life rather than death. It was just so surreal to sit there tonight, listening to the god's decide the fate of who kept their jobs and who would start reading the want-ads tomorrow morning. The fate of a music teacher also hung in the balance, which is why I was there making my feeble pleas to spare her life. This discussion took longer than deciding the nurse's fate, w/ the room more still, enduring longer silences, grasping the weight of killing a music teacher.



I don't envy them this task anymore than I envy God's plan for who lives and who dies. "W/ great power comes great responsibility." I think that comes from the first Spider Man movie. I hope the gods take their power very seriously. I would hate to think that they make life and death, employed and unemployed decisions on a whim. Surely God wouldn't take my mom away from me w/o thinking this through. I could live to be 90, which would mean I'd have spent the first half of my life w/ a mom and the last half of it w/o her. Would a god just decide to end a life or a job just to prove she could? If so, then the randomness of it seems covertly unjust, but if not, then the planning of it seems overtly malicious. Either way it stinks. I have to believe that if a door closes, somewhere a window opens if for no other reason than to let in some fresh air.

Sunday, 21 March 2010 -- Day 91 (104)

All my thoughts yesterday about life worked b/c last night I dreamt that Mom came back to life. She was in the same hospital bed in which she breathed her last, and even after 104 days she began to breathe again and opened her eyes. I recall such a warm and wonderful feeling to think that the past 104 days had only been a bad dream. Then somehow a little boy entered the hospital room, and all my attention shifted from her to him. How could I do that? I had her back, and I got distracted. But for those few brief moments, she was w/ me again and life was good. Maybe instead of lying awake at night, I should be anxious to get to sleep so I can be w/ her.

Saturday, 20 March 2010 -- Day 90 (103)

I was determined when I awoke this morning, this first day of Spring, that I was going to find and focus on life. I found it in the most precious place by holding a baby, making her giggle, feeding her and rocking her to sleep. This is life in its most pure state. Holding baby Abby I remembered how quickly this beginning stage of life passes, and that reminded me why life is so important. These last few days I've struggled again w/ the futility of life b/c of the inevitability of death. Death waits for us all, the mighty equalizer, and that pisses me off. But I realized in the moment of holding Abby I had been focusing too much on the big picture....you know the one, it starts w/ birth and ends w/ death. Once Abby helped me realize that all the little pictures are more important, I began to see all kinds of life re-emerging. I have tulips and hyacinths busting through. Some of the trees are budding, and daily the snow loses its battle w/ the sun. I know this b/c the snowmobile that belongs to the boy down the street sits on a smaller slice of snow each time I walk by.

I found what I was looking for....in a baby, a bud, and a battle just waiting to spring to life.

Friday, 20 March 2010 -- Day 89 (102)

Maddy had dance class pictures this afternoon, and it didn't hit me until I was standing there in the basement of the Presbyterian Church organizing her stuff that most years Mom was here to help me. I'm afraid in looking back that I never appreciated her enough. I always thanked her, but I never really, really thanked her....if that makes sense. She was the one who made the costume alterations, helped the girls w/ their hair and makeup, and genuinely adored being in the moment. Looking back it all seems a blur b/c I was always flitting around doing God knows what and certainly not being in the moment. I'm tired of flitting around. I'm tired of making all the plans and then being too tired to enjoy them. Since I just used the word "tired" three times in two sentences, I'm obviously just plain tired. Oh, yea, and I'm tired of being tired. Are you tired of me yet?

Thursday, 18 March 2010 -- Day 88 (101)

I saw my first Robin today. There is hope! My grandmother always said that the Robin has to be snowed on three times before Spring actually comes. Not sure if there's any meteorological reasoning behind it, but it seems to ring true most years. So in honor of hope and warmer weather and b/c I taught a fast track all day, I watched one of my favorite "feel good" movies, Under the Tuscan Sun. There's a continuing scene where Francesca looks down from her balcony to see if the old man who always brings flowers to a nook in the wall will return her greeting. Tonight seeing him do this repeatedly made me cry. Normally I just think, "How sweet," but tonight I saw my dad in that old man. Dad went to the cemetery for the first time today as I mentioned in last night's post. The dirt had sunk down so much that my brother said he feared he could peer down into the grave and see the vault. Dad was upset about this when I talked to him tonight, and he had made his complaints known to City Hall and to the Cemetery Board of the City Council, of which Mom was a member. I doubt they can or will do anything at this point, but hearing my father's passion in tending to Mom's grave nearly broke my heart. This is the eternal love that Francesca has been seeking; the kind where a man leaves flowers in a wall or fusses over dirt b/c it's the only way he has left to outwardly show his affection. The kind that when she finally sits quietly and contentedly, the lady bugs land.

Wednesday, 17 March 2010 -- Day 87 (100)

While reading my newest American Heritage magazine (Spring 2010, Vol. 60, Number 1), I came across an Abraham Lincoln quote, "To ease another's heartache is to forget one's own" (p. 15). On this 100th day since Mom's passing, I renew my pledge to help ease the pain of others and in so doing lessen mine. For the main purpose of this blog is to heal.

Tuesday, 16 March 2010 -- Day 86 (99)

Dad and Ron will probably go to the cemetery for the first time tomorrow. It's fitting since it will be 100 days since Mom passed away. How will I endure the 100's of days I have left without her.

When the girls were in elementary school, they celebrated the 100th day of school by bringing in 100 of something they could count, like pennies or Cheerio's or marshmallows. I've already counted over 100 tears and 100 prayers for healing and strength. I replay her voice in my head 100 times so I won't forget the sound of her voice. And after the 100th day tomorrow, it will be 101 then 102 and on and on. What are we counting on or counting toward? Landmark events to help us measure time.....birth, baptism, confirmation, graduation, marriage, family, death.

Monday, 15 March 2010 -- Day 85 (98)

After 10 1/2 hours at the college, I emerged at six o'clock this evening to an entirely different world than the one I left at seven-thirty this morning. Huge patches of grass are now visible. I feel like I missed it; missed the melting. I know there's plenty of snow left, but this is such an amazing time of the year as the earth reinvents itself. I feel like if I miss too much of it I won't emerge from the deep freeze. Mom told me numerous times that she felt like she missed much of our growing-up b/c she was always busy taking care of the house. It amazed her in later years how she wasted so much time on trivial matters such as ironing t-shirts and underwear and sheets and pillow cases. She wished she would've spent more time playing w/ us, and she missed it. It's gone. My youth. My mom. My playtime. I miss them all.

The snow has gone missing
Someone should report it.
The police can file it
The meteorologist can track it,
But my boot won't find it
Unless I look for it in a puddle
Or in the oozing, glopping mud.

Sunday, 14 March 2010 -- Day 84 (97)

All the stress and overextension of myself has given me a very bad cold. Note to self: take more time to relax and enjoy my friends and family right after I finish teaching this fast track class at the end of the month; turn in my midterm grades; grade my online students' speeches; write an editorial for the paper to not reduce the music teaching staff; make an appointment for Kenzie to start her Humera shots; make an appointment for Maddy to start tennis lessons; and make an appointment for the dog's hair cut.

Right now I'm going to take the Scarlett O'Hara approach and "worry about all that tomorrow."

Saturday, 13 March 2010 -- Day 83 (96)

I think part of why I hustle from one activity to the next and shuffle among work, family, community, and personal events is so I don't have to feel. If I keep my mind and body active to the point of exhaustion, I can collapse into bed, which is where I'm headed right now.

Friday, 12 March 2010 -- Day 82 (95)

This long, snowy winter has kept me from thinking about Mom's body being buried in the cemetery. I just got off the phone w/ Dad, who said he might go out there tomorrow since quite a bit of the snow is gone. Sitting here now, I had a vision of tending her grave once the grass is grown over it and then lying on the ground, knowing she's there six feet below. That thought saddens me, yet it comforts. Up until the time that I became a mother at age 29, I sat on my mom's lap on a regular basis, not an easy feat since I'm 5'7, and she was 5'2. It was a quiet time for just the two of us, much the same I'm sure as it was when I was smaller. I like the thought of sitting on the ground by her grave and imagining I'm sitting on her lap to tell her what's happening in my life. A cemetery really is a place for the living, for it's the living who go there to tend, to remember, to find solace, to weep, and to cherish life. A cemetery provides us an anchor to the last known place of a loved one's body. We can't be close to them in heaven so we seek the only closeness we can, a physical one at a place where we can touch and sit.

Thursday, 11 March 2010 -- Day 81 (94)

Mom loved music. She played the coronet in the school band until she became a baton twirler. She loved to sing and dance, but mostly she loved to listen to her children and grandchildren. She always encouraged us to be in school choir, band, and musicals. My brother, Ron, was the first of us children to follow in Mom's footsteps, being selected to be a drummer in the high school marching band when he was only in fifth grade. My sister followed by also being a drummer, and when I was old enough I became a percussionist as well. Ron has a beautiful voice that helped him win the lead in high school musicals and as a member of many choirs and ensembles. My sister sang in choir, and I accompanied all the high school choirs from the time I was a freshman. I continued to play in concert and pit bands in college and to sing in the college choir. Even now I play in the community jazz band. I think back at all the times when company came to visit, and Mom asked/told me to play something for them. She always bragged about my musical talents, which is probably why I'm still playing to this day. As long as I've got music, I've got Mom.

I'm still accompanying, which is where I was tonight, playing for the middle school choirs. Tonight was truly a moving experience listening to kids from grades 5 through 12 sing and dance and gain self confidence. Mom would've loved seeing me at the piano and both my daughters performing. Maddy sang a solo and sang w/ the 7th/8th grade choir. Kenzie sang and danced in the show choir and in varsity choir. The finale had all the students singing a medley from the musical Rent. It literally brought tears to my eyes to see 200 students singing as if there was no greater joy in the world. That's when I thought of Mom. She knew the power of music to stimulate and to soothe.



My sister started piano lessons when she was eight. I don't remember how many years she took lessons, but I know I couldn't wait until I turned eight so I could start them too. We never had a lot of money for extras, but Mom always found the money to pay for lessons and buy books. And practicing my lessons always got me out of helping w/ the dishes; that in itself would make anyone strive to be a virtuoso. Thanks to Mom's foresight and devotion, the piano has brought me places I never would've seen and provided a supplement to my income. When I was in my early 20's, living in Austin, TX, and working in a music store, I bought Mom some play-by-ear tapes. I wanted to give her the same gift she gave me. I came across the tapes one of the last times I was back home, still in the same envelope. She had worked up a few of the lessons, and always said she needed to find time to work on some more. I used to play piano for a church when I lived in Texas, and she got to hear me each summer they visited me. I've played in churches since then, but not since she died. I've been asked but can't bring myself to do it. Tonight was hard enough. This was my first performance since she passed away....another one of those first's.

Music was something that Mom and I could do together. She and I sang in the church choir my freshman year of high school, and then for the next three years I accompanied that choir along w/ the junior choir and Mom's Sunday School class, known now as "Lucy's Kids." She wanted me to major in music in college, but I felt there were only two directions I could go w/ a music degree: teach or perform. I didn't want to do the former and didn't feel I was talented enough to do the latter. Look at me now.....I'm a teacher, and I perform. Have I mentioned how smart Mom was?

Wednesday, 10 March 2010 -- Day 80 (93)

My daughter, Maddy, was home sick from school again today. Sitting on the couch w/ her watching Snow White, I realized just as the witch transforms herself into the old hag, who will trick the little princess w/ the apple, that she looks like Marty Feldman. You know him, he was Igor in Young Frankenstein; very unmistakable with his bulging eyes. I wonder if he was the model for the witch's disguise. The dwarf Happy looks like Santa Claus. Never noticed that before. My girls used to love all the Disney animated movies, which is probably why they return to them when they don't feel well. Comfort movies are just like comfort foods. Snow White was the first book that Kenzie memorized. I remember standing in the doorway of the bathroom of our previous home w/ Mom behind the video camera, as she most often was, recording Kenzie "reading" a book at the age of two. She had the page turns down and everything. I still haven't found the courage to watch any of those videos, but it's encouraging that simple memories can comfort me and that a Disney movie can help them break through.

Tuesday, 09 March 2010 -- Day 79 (92)

I was still feeling a little "punk" this morning, but after a couple of hours burying myself in work, I emerged feeling a little less tight in the tummy.

In talking w/ Dad tonight, he informed me about the death of a longtime friend of my brother Ron's, so when I finished talking to Dad I called my brother. Tip, whose real name is Leonard (a fact I just learned tonight after knowing him for 25 years), passed away last night from natural causes that were apparently exacerbated by cancer. I know Mom's doctor told her last year that it wouldn't be the cancer that would kill her but some infection, and I guess that's what happened to Tip as well. Ron and I talked about how both Mom and Tip were both ready to go b/c neither wanted to become a burden. I know Dad and Tip's partner, Larry, would both agree that they'd rather have them back than even think about any burdens. A truly selfless love is caring more about the well-being of another than about yourself.

I wonder, does it ever come back? That part of you that dies with your loved one? Does the feeling ever return to that part of your heart that's dissolved? When my second daughter was born my love doubled rather than divided. How does it work when someone dies? Is the love subtracted without the addition of that loved one? I don't want anyone to take Mom's place in my heart. Just b/c she's gone doesn't mean I've got extra love that needs to find a home.

Monday, 08 March 2010 -- Day 78 (91)

Feelin' kinda punk. I have no idea where that expression comes from, if it's old slang or a colloquialism. I do know that Mom used to say it whenever she wasn't feeling one hundred percent. The feeling where you're not sick enough to stay home in bed, but not really well enough to accomplish much.

Sunday, 07 March 2010 -- Day 77 (90)

Sitting w/ Dad in church today, I noticed him give a silent head nod to a gentleman sitting behind us. That man lost his wife a few month's before Mom passed away. The look that passed b/w the two of them was of complete understanding of the abject pain they were each feeling. Then I looked over to our right, and I saw a man who lost his wife last year too. Three men forming a widower's triangle, all widowed in the same year. All three looked pale, thin, and haggard.

I continued to peruse the congregation and noticed the widows of the church. I wouldn't say they were vibrant, but they looked much more at peace w/ their situations. Perhaps b/c they had been widowed longer and had accepted their fates, or maybe it's true what I've heard so many women say. "Women can handle be widowed easier than a man." I still don't know exactly what that means, but maybe women are naturally more accustomed to accept what life gives us. History certainly proves that women haven't always been given a voice to vote or own property or work outside the home. We've had to accept b/c we had no other choice. Looks like in this instance, playing the hand we're dealt makes coping w/ loss a little easier. I hope the three men get to that point of peace and acceptance too.

Saturday, 06 March 2010 -- Day 76 (89)

I had to hem the pair of slacks that I'm going to wear to church tomorrow. This is a challenge for me. Put a tennis racket in my hand or a piano beneath my fingers, I can do pretty well, but a needle and thread baffles me. I went up to Mom's sewing room, which, like most of the house, is exactly as she left it. The scraps from the burnt orange skirt she was hemming at Thanksgiving are right where she left them. I used the needle that still held the remainder of the burnt orange thread she used. There's no escaping she's gone or dreaming she'll come back. When I'm in my own home, it's possible to forget for awhile, but for Dad the emptiness is always here. He's never been one to venture far from home, and if it wasn't for Mom, he may very well have ended up like his mother and never left Butler County. He usually goes out for a few hours several days a week, but the void is always here when he returns. It's beginning to wear him down. I've tried several times to convince him to come to my house for Easter weekend or at least on the weekend my daughter goes to her first Prom later next month. All he says is, "I'll think about it." Not as many people come to visit him anymore. I don't know if it's b/c there are so many reminders of Mom in this house, but I had hoped w/ the warmer weather that more people would take just a few minutes to drop in and visit. It doesn't take long to make someone's day. He's feeling very alone. Each time I come back for a weekend, he has something more to add about what he wants for his funeral. He's ready to go whenever God calls him, and I think he's praying for a call any day now.

All this from hemming a pair of slacks, and I didn't even do a descent job.

Friday, 05 March 2010 -- Day 75

It's now been 88 days since Mom passed away. Some days I feel like she only left us yesterday, and other days I feel as if she's been gone for years. I'm at my Dad's as I write tonight, having come from Kenzie's doctor appointment in Rochester. For those who may be wondering, we're going to start her on Humira shots if the insurance company can be convinced...yea, there's a lot wrong w/ that statement. I know we'd be a lot worse off w/o insurance, but it's frustrating to think that insurance professionals can override medical professionals on matters of health and well-being.

Dad was more upset tonight than he's been since the initial shock of Mom's death and the numbness that set-in after the funeral. Maybe like the icicles that are melting and the snow that is receding, the numbness is wearing off and the feeling has come rushing back to his extremities. If you've ever suffered even slight frostbite, you understand the pain involved when the numbness wears off and feeling returns. I think the impetus tonight may have been when I asked him if Kenzie could use some of Mom's old sweatpants to sleep in. When I went in to his bedroom to check on what he'd found, he handed me the pants and then told me to take whatever clothes of Mom's I wanted. I asked him if he wanted me to go through everything so he wouldn't have see them whenever he opened the closet. He definitely wants to keep whatever I don't want. It seems to be a double-edged sword: having her things around reminds him of her, but having her things around also reminds him that she's gone. That pair of shoes that I've mentioned in other posts is still here by the computer just where she took them off 89 days ago.

During the last couple of months, Dad will tear-up when we talk about Mom, but tonight he was sobbing as he hugged me. He misses her so much. For the last 10 years they had literally been inseparable, not being apart from each other for more than a couple of hours at a time. I wonder which is better: to love others w/ limitations so when they're gone we don't miss them as much, or to love others w/o boundaries so a part of us goes w/ them when they're gone. I think I've spent a lot of my life trying not to care too much so I wouldn't have to suffer the pain of loss, but all that has left me w/ is loss. I guess I never believed it's "better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all." But I'm beginning to remember what Mom always believed, if we don't care then what's the point. We're just going through the motions, and that's not living. I know Dad would say that 62 years and 11 months of love is better than the pain he's feeling , but missing her so much makes that hard to see right now.

Thursday, 04 March 2010 -- Day 74

It's only fitting that on the day after my birthday, I should talk about wrinkles. Specifically, the three worry lines above the bridge of my nose b/w my eyebrows that have been steadily getting deeper and deeper over the last six years. I'll admit that in June of 2004, I had much to be concerned about as I recovered from a hysterectomy, a brain aneurysm, and kidney cancer during a six-month period. I can remember that June, standing in my kitchen. Mom had come up to help and care for me. As we stood in the kitchen, she took her thumb and rubbed up and down over those worry lines as if she could rub my pain and concern away. I know what it's like to see a daughter hurting and afraid. I'll probably see that look tomorrow when I take my daughter to Mayo Clinic again to see her doctor to figure out why the medicine no longer seems to be keeping the Crohn's at bay. No matter how much pain and worry I'm feeling, seeing the pain and worry of my child is a thousand times worse. Wish Mom was here right now to rub my worry lines.

Wednesday, 03 march 2010 -- Day 73

Today is my birthday. I'm now 46. Mom used to always be the first one to call me in the morning to serenade me w/ "Happy Birthday." This was the first time in 46 years that Mom didn't sing to me or wish me a Happy Birthday or send me a card. I guess it really hit me today that I'm a motherless child. My husband and children offered birthday greetings first thing this morning, but there was no singing. That's where I started this morning, and then something wonderful happened......I went to work. My dear friend, Lora, greeted me w/ a gift full of lots of delightful goodies. She had created one of those care packages that had me squealing in delight w/ each new surprise I removed from the box. Students in my first class gave me birthday wishes proving they had been listening to me last week when I subtly pointed out the date of my birth was quickly approaching. Then my sister called, and as soon as I saw her name appear on my cell phone, I prepared myself for the singing. Just like Mom, she serenades me every year. This year I pinched myself to keep from crying b/c by now I was determined to make this a completely blissful birthday. And it has been an amazing birthday, much happier than I had hoped, thanks to emails and cards and Facebook comments from friends and family. Aunt Irene, who will be 90 in two months, even sent me a card. I used to get them from her and her family every year when I was young, but it's the first card I recall receiving in my adulthood. I think she knew that I wouldn't be getting a card from Mom and didn't want me to think I'd been forgotten. Forgotten.......not in the slightest. Makes me wonder what I've done to deserve so many loving friends and family members. When I entered my afternoon class, there was a gift bag waiting on the back table where I sit when watching speeches, which is what I did today. Again a student had actually been listening to me and heeded my not-so-subtle hints. God bless them, everyone.

My evening has been filled w/ more cards and gifts. My husband made me a cake, made dinner, cleaned up the kitchen, and gave me a gift card to a local nursery, which I hope I'll actually get to use at some point this year. My daughter Maddy gave me a beautiful eternity circle necklace. In the box was a card that said: "A mother's love is forever, A precious gift to treasure, Warmth on which you can depend, Like this sparkling circle, it has no end." It's so special b/c it came from my baby and b/c it made me think of my own mother's eternal love, a love that I depended on for 45 years, a love that from now on will be in memory and not in action. My daughter Kenzie gave me the pictures of my mom that I had asked her for a couple of weeks ago and to which I referenced in an earlier blog. I'm going to get frames for them, but it's still very difficult to look at them. Weird how I can look at the older pictures of her, but the recent ones just rip me up.

Well, that's been my 46th birthday, my first birthday without Mom, but a birthday filled with love and support and kindness from many friends and family members. Thank you to all. Thanks, Mom, for bringing me into this world, on this day, 46 years ago.

P.S. After posting the first part of this at 8:50 this evening, I checked the voice mail on my cell phone that had been charging since about 5:00 this evening. On it were four messages: one from my brother, Ron, two from my dad, and one from my longtime friend, Darla. It's fitting that my birthday should end as I had hoped it would start....w/ singing. My brother, who had called me yesterday to say he wanted to buy my birthday present this summer while we're in Europe, serenaded me. My dad's first attempt at a message left him in a coughing fit so that he had to hang up. When he called back, he gave me birthday wishes in his sing-song pattern, which is the closest he comes to singing. That right there meant more to me than I can relay. My friend, who had already posted birthday wishes on my Facebook wall and had sent me a card and gift (of which I used some of the anti-aging night cream!), left me a birthday voice message as well. The speech teacher is speechless. Good night.

Tuesday, 02 March 2010 -- Day 72

I believe our Save the Music campaign at the school board's work session tonight was a success. We won't know for sure until next week when they vote, but the dozen or so or us who spoke made a very big impact. As I was sitting near the back listening to others and waiting for my turn, I felt a very strong sense of community. We were all there for the betterment of our educational system regardless of if we were fighting to save music or mathematics or foreign language.

My community of 7000 isn't my hometown, but I still feel committed to it much the same way my mom was committed to the only town she ever lived in. I guess that's not exactly true. I think the family she grew up w/ briefly lived in a nearby town for awhile, but that was before she started school. There's something to be said for being in the same community your entire life to weather the crises and rejoice in the triumphs. It takes an enormous amount of strength to grow where you're planted. It takes courage to stay and cut-out a life that swaps youth for responsibility. Sometimes I think I took the easy way out by moving away.

Mom always went into community projects w/ passion and fervor. That woman could organize cancer drives and blood drives and city name signs for each end of town, complete w/ lights that she helped install. All that, and still cook and clean and sew and manage the household account. Right about now I'm thinking of the old commercial, don't even remember the product, but the jingle was, "She can bring home the bacon. Fry it up in a pan. And never, never let you forget you're a man. 'Cause she's a woman." Mom was a woman's woman..........Super Woman!

Monday, 01 March 2010 -- Day 71

The expressions: "In like a lamb, out like a lion" or "In like a lion, out like a lamb," always remind me of Mom so on this first of March, I again had numerous thoughts of Mom throughout the day. I love starting a new month on a Monday. Maybe it's the OCD coming out in me, but the first day of the month starting on the first day of the work week (please no religious comments here) makes everything much more organized and logical. Right now if I can streamline my life in any way, it's a good day. This first day of the week on the first day of March came in like a lamb. Good thing....it's about the only thing in my life that's calm right now.