Friday, 30 April 2010 -- Day 131 (144)

Dad and Ron made it here safe and sound. It's getting a little easier to be together and accept that Mom isn't w/ us. We're rediscovering each other. Dad is actually less grumpy, which sounds terrible, but I think he realizes that he needs to be more affable now so people will want to visit and talk to him. It's sad, in a way, that he wasn't more agreeable when Mom was alive, but I think he felt he would always have her even if others turned against him. Unfortunately those closest to us don't always get to see our best side, yet they love us no matter what.

Maddy's dance recital dress rehearsal was tonight, and for the first time (yes, another first), Mom wasn't here to help get her dressed and ready. Not the Maddy needs it since she'll be 14 tomorrow, but Mom was always here to fix costumes and do hair and just be a comforting presence since this was always a harrowing time. I remember Maddy's first recital when she was four. She hated her costume b/c the sequins scratched her tummy. Mom sewed in felt to make it softer, but Maddy still cried and screamed about that stupid costume. I didn't keep that costume, even though it was her first, b/c it held too many bad memories. I guess I'm older and wiser now. I've finally learned that everything doesn't have to be perfect. But Mom always made everything look so easy, and I felt like I needed to be just like her. Now I'm okay w/ ordering chicken from Godfather's for dinner rather than preparing a home-cooked meal. I'm okay w/ relinquishing more control over Maddy's appearance in her make-up and costume rather than applying it myself. I'm okay.

Thursday, 29 April 2010 -- Day 130 (143)

After six hours on the road, five hours at St. Mary's Hospital in Rochester, and two hours of shopping, I'm exhausted. The preliminary report on Mackenzie looks good. I won't go into too much detail here since Crohn's Disease deals a part of the anatomy that isn't discussed in polite company, but we'll know more after the biopsy comes back tomorrow. The doctor seems to think a little steroid therapy will solve the problem....not that this is to be taken lightly, but it's a whole lot better than another bowel resection.

Dealing w/ the stress and anxiety over Mackenzie's condition and worrying how Madison was going to get to and from school today left me little time to think of Mom. But I did think of her a little as I vacuumed the floors just now....company's comin' tomorrow, you know!

Wednesday, 28 April 2010 -- Day 129 (142)

People, including ourselves, will let us down and not live up to our expectations. But if we expect these people, including ourselves, to let us down, they will, every time. Kenzie is experiencing this right now w/ her boyfriend, or rather ex-boyfriend. I've been experiencing it a little w/ Mom. I don't know that I'm actually angry w/ her, but I've found that I don't want to look at her pictures as much. I have one of my favorite pictures of her on the file cabinet in my office, and each morning when I turn on the light above it, I usually say, "Good morning, Mom." This last week, however, I haven't wanted to look at that picture. Maybe it's b/c the pictures make me sad, and I'm tired of being sad, so I'm taking it out on Mom for making me sad. Is that completely warped?

Sometimes our bodies let us down too. Kenzie's experiencing this right now as well w/ her Crohn's Disease. The newest medicine (Humira) that she's been on for the last eight weeks hasn't been working. As a result, she has to have a colonoscopy tomorrow to determine what else is going on. This will be her seventh one in six years. She amazes me w/ her attitude. Yes, there are times when she gets a little depressed and frustrated, but she always understands what has to be done and stays strong. She reminds me a lot of Mom in this regard. Mom never bemoaned her cancers or asked why all this had to happen to her. Instead she faced her illnesses w/ positive determination. God knows her body let her down and her treatments didn't always live up to her expectations, but she kept an upbeat attitude. Most people commented after she passed that they didn't realize just how sick she was b/c she was always so positive.

Tuesday, 27 April 2010 -- Day 128 (141)

About three weeks ago a Mama Robin built her nest on our upper deck behind my potted Ficus tree. Then about two weeks ago, I noticed four eggs. Since then she has faithfully and diligently, in rain and hail and high winds, sat on that nest, leaving it a few times each day to feed herself, but only if the sun is out to keep the eggs warm in her absence. Occasionally I'll notice that she stands on the rim of the nest, and, w/ her beak, turns the eggs then sits atop them puffing out her body and feathers to entirely cover the opening of the nest. It's in her nature, whether she understands why or not, to protect her babies.

Today is my sister's birthday, and w/ this day marks the first birthday that each of us, the children of Lucy Miller, has celebrated w/o a mother. David's birthday was actually on the day of Mom's funeral in December; Ron and mine were in March; and Lori's today. Those four Robin's eggs remind me of the four of us. For 62 years Mom faithfully and diligently cared and looked after us even after we left the nest. It was definitely in her nature, and she certainly understood why, to protect her babies till death did us part.

Monday, 26 April 2010 -- Day 127 (140)

The Northwest Iowa Jazz Band that I play in had our spring concert tonight. It's always a lot of fun rehearsing and performing w/ this group that I've been w/ now for nine years. We've been through a lot together beyond just playing music: weddings, divorces, personal and professional successes, illnesses, death, and a lot of 4th of July Flight Breakfasts. Our former bass player, Tom, passed away from a brain tumor about three years ago. His widow still comes to all our concerts, and of course she was there tonight. Just before I went on stage, I tapped her on the shoulder to tell her that I'd been thinking about Tom today. After every concert he would tell me they needed to mic my piano b/c he could never hear me, even though as part of the rhythm section we were pretty close together. Well, I wasn't miked again tonight, but somehow my piano seemed louder than it ever has. My husband noticed it too. I think Tom was giving me a boost.

Sunday, 25 2010 -- Day 126 (139)

Mackenzie's Post Prom Party at the high school actually turned out to be a lot of fun. I wasn't sure I could stay awake that long. However, watching the kids ride the mechanical bull, which is the game that I helped w/, and watching the hypnotist make high school juniors and seniors pretend to be aliens and Elvis and brainless was a riot! I haven't laughed that hard in a very long time. It felt good, and even though I only got about four hours of sleep, they were four deep, uninterrupted hours. How wonderful to be able to share this special day and evening w/ my daughter, and more importantly to have her want to share it w/ me.

My daughter Madison shares a love of sewing that my mother possessed, and a love that eluded me. Thanks to Mom I had plenty of suits, dresses, shorts, and blouses while growing up, as a poor undergrad, and even poorer graduate student. Maddy asked me again today if she could have a sewing machine. I've told her repeatedly that if she asked Papa (my dad), he'd probably let her have Grandma's machine. Today, I heard Maddy in her room calling my mother-in-law, who is a collector of stuff, and anytime we need something she usually has three. When Maddy asked her about a sewing machine, Grandma Burns has four and will gladly part w/ one. I asked Maddy why she didn't want Grandma Miller's, and she just looked at me w/ sad eyes and said she couldn't. She's sewn on that machine before making quilts and clothes during her weeks staying w/ Papa and Grandma Miller so I thought she'd want it for nostalgia, but I guess sometimes nostalgia is just too powerful. Through choked-back-tears, I hugged Maddy and told her that Grandma Miller would want her to have the sewing machine and would be glad to know it was getting used. Mom had little time for things that didn't get used. Maddy still wants to get a sewing machine from her other grandmother, one w/o any sentimental value. I know how hard it is to type on a computer w/ tears in my eyes so I can only imagine what it would be like for her to sew through tears on her grandmother's machine.

So what do mechanical bulls and sewing machines have in common? Today, they showed me the importance of sharing important events and simple moments b/c they are both equal in our memories.

Saturday, 24 April 2010 -- Day 125 (138)

Tonight is prom.....it has arrived at last. Mackenzie looks so beautiful. All her planning and preparation have paid off. I hope all the pictures we took this afternoon and this evening will do her justice. Despite my joy at seeing my baby all grown up and sparkling, I have an underlying feeling of moroseness b/c I can't share all this w/ Mom. I know she would've enjoyed the Grand March, seeing all the beautiful dresses and delighting in seeing how Mackenzie and all her childhood friends have grown up. I would've pointed out the girls and boys who came to different birthday parties and who were in various dance recitals and on little league teams w/ Mackenzie. But Grand March is over, and I need to try to get some sleep before post-prom begins at midnight. I'll try to write more tomorrow night when Prom 2010 has passed.

Friday, 23 April 2010 -- Day 124 (137)

After a crazy day of listening to speeches in both my face-to-face classes and my online class and helping decorate for the post-prom party at the high school, I needed to disappear for a couple of hours. It's not truly disappearing since my family knew where I was, but it was wonderful to just melt into a crowd w/ a tub of popcorn and a root beer and just be entertained. I don't think I ever went to a movie w/ Mom. Mom and Dad used to take my older brothers, who are 14 and 16 years older than I, to the movies every Saturday night. Back then the movie theatre was only 10 miles away, but when I was older that one closed and the closest one was 25 miles away. That, and the higher price of movie tickets are probably why we never went when my sister and I came along. Most of my memories of Saturday nights when I was younger was taking a bath then eating a Hershey's candy bar while lying on my stomach in front of the TV to watch Lawrence Welk. Yep, instead of King Kong on the big screen, I got the Champagne Orchestra on the boob tube. The first words I remember reading were "The End" at the conclusion of movies, and, yes, the words were in black and white. I guess movies have always been a part of my life.

Thursday, 22 April 2010 -- Day 123 (136)

I mowed lawn this afternoon. Sure enough when I got near my neighbor Bill's house, he came out to chat when he heard me stop the mower. Bill's wife died a couple of years ago, and I know that he's lonely. He told me shortly after she passed that what he missed most was just talking about his daily activities w/ someone. So I stood and talked w/ him awhile, but the entire time I was thinking to myself how I needed to get the mowing finished so I could go w/ Maddy to 1) buy tickets for her dance recital next Saturday, and 2) go to the high school to sign-off on her four-year plan for high school classes. But before I could do all that, I had to fix the handle on the mower b/c a nut had just fallen off, which is why I stopped the mower in the first place. Finally, I told him I had to find a nut and bolt to fix the handle so I left him, midway through his story about his recent health issues. After a half-hour searching for the right size bolt, I finally got the handle put back together and continued mowing for another 30 minutes (my lawn takes about two hours to mow) when along came Bill walking down my sidewalk, obviously wanting to show me something. I stopped the mower again to look at the framed picture of him and his first great, great grandchild. So I stood and talked w/ him some more. Somehow I managed to send him enough nonverbal signals to end the conversation fairly quickly and returned to my mowing. Then when I was about 15 minutes from finishing, the handle came apart again. The nut and bolt somewhere in my lawn. I didn't stop. I didn't look over my shoulder. I just kept mowing, loose handle and all.

All this made me think of Mom, imagine that. She always took the time to talk to people. She used to joke about how our neighbor, Mabel, always waited to hang her clothes out on the line until she saw Mom out there hanging up ours. Then they'd stand and talk for what seemed to me like hours. Mom used to clean the shelter houses in the city park, and she handled all the reservations. When people would come to pay, they'd usually stay and visit awhile, and she always talked w/ them as if there was nothing else she had to do. Occasionally she might say, "Well, I need to peel potatoes," but it was never a lie. She really did have to get dinner started. And she never grumbled or complained afterward about people taking up too much of her time. I wish that attitude came naturally to me, but I continuously have to remind myself to stand and talk to a neighbor. Because someday I could be that lonely neighbor wanting to share the latest picture of my great, great granddaughter.

Wednesday, 21 April 2010 -- Day 122 (135)

Mackenzie turned 17 today. My first-born is 17. She said she had a great birthday. I surprised her w/ flowers while she was in her college class today. I asked a work study student to deliver them to her, and I knew exactly when she got them b/c I got a text from her that said, "You're in big trouble, Mother." Tonight we went out for dinner, Doug, Maddy, Kenzie, her boyfriend (Ethan), and me. Ethan gave her two red roses, a really cute short outfit, and a sweet card. She was beaming. We came back to the house for cake and cards. After that we looked at pictures of Kenzie's birthdays-past, and of course Mom was present in all of them. I relied on her so much to make the girls' birthdays special; I hope she knew how much it meant to us to have her help. We looked at some of Kenzie's baby pictures too, and Mom was beaming whenever she held her. She truly delighted in her grandchildren, and I hope whenever Mackenzie looks at these pictures that she remembers that warmth and devotion.

I just can't figure out how it's possible for Kenzie to be 17 when I can still remember being that age. Time really does pass in the blink of an eye. Last night in bed my back was hurting, and Mom's voice flashed inside my head to tuck my knees into my stomach, curve my back, and drop my head toward my chest. I remember one night when I was probably around 10, and Mom told me to do this b/c my back was hurting. It amazed me how when I awoke the next morning the back ache was gone. Last night catapulted me back 36 years....lying on my right side while Mom knelt beside my bed instructing me on how to relieve the strain on my back. How did she know to do that? Did the mom she grew up w/ teach her that? Who's going to continue to teach me how to be a good mom?

I used to wish time would go faster or that I could be like Samantha from Bewitched or Jeanie from I Dream of Jeanie and just wiggle my nose and snap my fingers or cross my arms and nod my head to get myself from one point in time to another. Time has a way of making witches and genies out of all of us. When I closed my eyes last night and listened to Mom's voice once again instruct me, I felt 10-years-old and when I opened them 36 years were gone....just like that....in the blink of an eye. It helps to reminisce and go through old pictures to solidify all those memories. Because even if we can't distinguish whether we remember the moment due to the events or to the pictures of the events, we always remember the feelings associated w/ those memories and moments. I'm a time traveller: last night I was 10; today I'm 46; this evening I was 29. Birthdays give us numbers by which to recall events so we can say, "When I turned 17, I got flowers, jewelry, clothes, and money and to eat out w/ my family and play cards and remember." Kenzie just told me, "Thanks for a wonderful birthday." Time will fly by for her too, and before she knows it, her daughter will be 17. I hope I'm around to see that.

Tuesday, 20 April 2010 -- Day 121 (134)

How can an animated movie make me cry? Kenzie has to watch the first part of the animated movie, UP, and it's sadly reminiscent of where my dad is at right now, minus the construction going around all sides of his house. And Dad isn't quite so grumpy as Carl to send a little Wilderness Scout on a Snipe hunt or injure a man w/ a cane. But he's lonely and doesn't know what to do when his wife Ellie passes away until he remembers a promise he made to her years ago. For years Carl and Ellie would save up to take a trip to Paradise Cove, but something always took precedence a new tire or a broken leg. So just when they're about to take Carl to a retirement village, he turns his house into giant hot air balloon. Carl continually talks to a picture of Ellie telling her, "Don't worry, Ellie," we'll get there." Mom always wanted to travel on Amtrak and ride in an airplane, and thanks to the help and planning of my brother Ron, she got to do both. You're never too old for adventure, and it's never too late to keep your promises.

Monday, 19 April 2010 -- Day 120 (133)

Mom was right.......as usual. She said that taking good care of your teeth was most important, and she emphasized this even more after her bicycle accident when she was in her mid-50's. She was just about home when the bike pedal caught on the grass of the parking, stopping the bike in its tracks and sending her flying over the handle-bars. She knocked out a couple of teeth and had to have a partial plate. She always hated that and repeatedly reminded me that her Aunt Ella had her own teeth until the day she died b/c she took immaculate care of them. Turns out Mom and Aunt Ella were brilliant and far ahead of their time. Research coming out of Rochester University in the area of cosmetic face-lifts is showing that the bones in the face deteriorate just like other bones in the body. X-rays of people from a variety of age groups, including the elderly, show that people who no longer have their own teeth show an even more rapid deterioration of the jaw line. This means the plastic surgeon has to do more extensive building up and injecting of fat to prevent the face-lift from looking like a piece of deer skin drawn taut across a rib cage. Not that I ever plan on getting a face-life, but don't worry, Mom, I brush morning and night, although I need to start flossing more.

Sunday, 18 April 2010 -- Day 119 (132)

Kenzie has been preparing for Prom for the last couple of months borrowing a dress, buying accessories and tickets and flowers; making appointments for nails, hair, and makeup. She's spending more time and money on this than I did for both my wedding dresses and prom dresses. I bought each of my prom dresses for about $50. I bought my first wedding dress from JC Penney's for about $100, and Mom made my second wedding dress. I did my own hair and makeup for everything. Kenzie has bought tanning minutes. I used the good old-fashioned sun and went to my senior prom looking like a lobster. My first wedding was more expensive w/ the flowers and bridesmaid's dresses, reception, band, etc., but my second wedding only involved my parents, Doug's parents, and the Justice of the Peace. We were married on a peninsula so we didn't even have to rent a church.

I have greatly enjoyed this process w/ Mackenzie, but I miss sharing it all w/ Mom. I like to think that she's w/ us when we go shopping and picking out flowers and shoes and all the accessories, and that she'll be there on Saturday, the 24th to watch the Grand March of pretty dresses and tuxedos as her fifth grandchild enjoys this rite of passage.

Saturday, 17 April 2010 -- Day 118 (131)

I pretended Mom was alive for just a few minutes today. I spent the day at Ruthven-Ayreshire High School accompanying vocal and instrumental students for their contest. I was waiting to warm-up some of the vocal students so I sat talking w/ an older lady. We talked about retirement, and I mentioned how we all thought Dad would drive Mom crazy when he retired. I was really tempted just to keep going w/ the slight deception, but in a short time, I felt the need to clarify that Dad has been retired for almost 20 years, and that Mom passed away in December. Will I eventually start saying, "last December" then, "a year ago," and then, "14 months," and so on? Makes me think of how I first defined my daughters' age when they were infants: "4 months," a year," "14 months," and so on and so on. Symmetry?

Friday, 16 April 2010 -- Day 117 (130)

The other night I dreamt I was in a box w/ two small windows through which I could see that I was on an airport runway. The box was moving down the runway, gathering speed, but I had no controls by which to steer it or slow it down. I was heading toward a wooden ramp, the kind they use for water skiing jumps, but I was helpless to stop the box or veer out of the way. I collided w/ the ramp and then felt very warm, and I knew that the box was on fire. I awoke but not out of fear or pain. I just had to go to the bathroom.

I don't need to look this one up on my favorite dream interpretation website to know that I'm feeling out of control. I frequently get dreams like this around this hectic time of the school year. Usually, however, I'm in an actual car, in the driver's seat with the seat laid all the way back, and I struggle to pull myself up using the steering wheel so I can see where I'm going. But my body is so heavy that I can only lift myself up momentarily to see where I'm going before my body falls back down against the seat. Another major difference is that in these dreams, I don't crash into anything. I think the reason I crashed while in the box was b/c I didn't have a GPS or a Tom Tom.....that would be Mom. She was my guidance system, and w/o her I crash and burn.

Thursday, 15 April 2010 -- Day 116 (129)

New research has come out of the University of Iowa regarding memory and emotion. Doctoral student Justin Feinstein has shown how persons, suffering from a specific type of amnesia that inhibits short-term memory retention, can retain the emotional connection to an event even after they've forgotten the event. He showed them clips from such movies as When Harry Met Sally and Forrest Gump then asked them questions pertaining to the movies and what feelings they were experiencing after the clips were over. Even though they couldn't recall the movies they watched, they still maintained feelings of sadness or happiness from how the clips made them feel. He concludes that even though a memory leaves, the emotion associated w/ the event is retained for a little longer. In a interview w/ him on Iowa Public Radio today, he elaborated that the feeling of sadness was retained for 30 minutes while the happy feeling remained for about 15 minutes. I find that immensely relevant for me as I'm going through this grieving process, and perhaps this also explains why the happy memories of Mom are fleeting while the sadness lingers longer. I'm hoping this will change as time goes by. Kind of like when you break-up w/ someone over something you didn't like about him, but as time passes you forget what you didn't like and only remember the stuff you did like.

Feinstein was also trying to determine if by removing a memory, can the suffering associated w/ the memory also be removed? This could prove helpful for persons suffering from such problems as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Remove the memory of the event that caused the suffering and cure the disorder. I have to disagree w/ this. I don't think any memory, good or bad, happy or sad, should be removed. We have to learn to work through all of them, and if we only keep the memories that leave us feeling happy then we are no longer human. We'll be like the woman who perpetually uses Botox and eventually loses the ability to show ANY emotion. Even though recalling memories of Mom makes me sad, I don't want those memories to be removed. Sorting through all my memories of her serves a purpose b/c at the end of grief is enrichment. For example, last night's post took a lot out of me emotionally, but I feel stronger and more complete as a result. I may have mentioned this before, but in the study of theatre, we call that catharsis, an emotional purging that leaves an audience feeling refreshed when the production is over. I think grief is about sorting through our memories, remembering how we felt during those times so that we can retain them. Sometimes these posts make us cry and sometimes make us laugh, but in the end we all come out better for having gone through it.

Wednesday, 14 April 2010 -- Day 115 (128)

I guess b/c my girls have both had sinus infections these last two weeks, I'm reminded of some of my childhood illnesses. I had a lot of ear infections. Nowadays doctors would put tubes in the ears, but back then Mom would warm up mineral oil in a pan of water on the stove, test a few drops on her wrist, put three drops in one ear followed by a small piece of cotton. I'd have to lie w/ that ear facing up so the oil could work its way down into my ear canal. I can still feel the dull ache accented by sharp pains as it trickled down. Then it was time to repeat the whole process w/ the other ear. I would be allowed to chew two baby aspirin, and then I'd lie there on that brown sectional sofa tracing the satin-stitched flowers w/ my finger. I'd fall asleep and upon awakening the pain would be gone. Dr. Miller cured me again. Whenever I'd scrape my knee, she'd grab the peroxide, a cotton ball, and a Band-Aid, and say w/ her intercom voice, "Paging, Dr. Miller. Paging, Dr. Miller. Dr. Miller, please report to the bathroom."

Whenever I had a stomach ache, I'd creep quietly downstairs to my parent's bedroom and hover silently at the foot of their bed on Mom's side. Within seconds she would sense my presence and softly speak my name and ask, "Mari, what's wrong?" To which I would let out a bellowing "Waaahhh. My tummy hurts," and she'd take me to the bathroom, hold my hair back while I threw-up, and then give me a glass of water to rinse out my mouth. Understand that I had to pass the bathroom to get to their bedroom, but I always had to get to her first. Undoubtedly there were times when I caused her more work b/c I should've stopped at the bathroom first, but she never yelled or harrumphed in disgust. Always patient. Always understanding.

She was always there for me when I was sick, even when I was older, but I feel like I let her down b/c I wasn't there as much to help her when she was sick. It's expected that the roles become reversed and that grown children will care for elderly, ill parents. Even at 79 and sick w/ multiple cancers, she rarely seemed elderly or ill. The one time I do recall thinking just how sick she was, was at my Uncle Ervin's funeral, who passed away just a few weeks before Mom. Mom was always a classy dresser, but at his funeral her blouse was disheveled so I fussed over her like a mother fixing a child's collar. She didn't feel well enough to go out to the cemetery so I asked my sister-in-law to stay w/ her. I wish I would've stayed back instead b/c the next time I fussed over her was when she lay dying in a hospital bed and again when she lay in her casket. At the church on the day of Mom's funeral, Dad kept placing his hand on her forehead and matting down her hair so each time I'd go and fluff it up again. I'd never before touched a dead body, but I had to do it. And at that time I remember thinking back to a co-worker's funeral that I had attended two years prior and how her daughter fussed over the cloth that was draped over the casket. That single act of a daughter making sure her mother was presentable for her final journey into the sanctuary left me stunned, until I found myself hovering over my own mother, this time at her head rather than her feet. But there was no soft voice to gently call my name and ask me what was wrong. It was my turn to care for her.

Tuesday, 13 April 2010 -- Day 114 (127)

Well, I started tonight's blog an hour ago, but I was having writer's block just staring at a white screen. After awhile the white screen reminded me of ice cream so we had to go to Dairy Queen. I had a twist cone b/c a vanilla one reminded me too much of the blank screen waiting for me at home. Then when we got home I was feeling guilty about the cone so I took Kea, the dog, for a walk to burn off the ice cream. I love to walk, and I love ice cream. I think that's a healthy, symbiotic relationship. When Mom was alive and healthy, she used to walk two miles every morning. She enjoyed the exercise as well as the solitude and time to think. Her dad loved to walk too for all the same reasons. Me too, but I also love to walk w/ others or w/ a dog. Walking outside is so much more exciting than walking on a treadmill or even an elliptical. Walking inside tonight wouldn't have allowed Kea to find the frog trying to cross the road. She didn't hurt it, but she did try to pounce on it w/ her front paws. This is why we tend to call her Kea the Cat. Don't worry no animals were harmed in the writing of this blog or on this walk. The ice cream and the walk worked........my writer's block is gone. I think it went straight to my hips.

Monday, 12 April 2010 -- Day 113 (126)

What a wonder the thunder! I love spring thunderstorms. They make me happy. They make me wish I could've stayed in bed all day today. That's where I'm headed now. I hope there's a thunderstorm to put me to sleep.

Sunday, 11 April 2010 -- Day 112 (125)

Today was a day of watching my daughters play volleyball, my students play softball then playing tennis w/ Maddy and shopping w/ Kenzie. I know, I know....after yesterday's blog about accumulating stuff, I had the audacity to go shopping again. But Kenzie has been having boyfriend problems so when she said she needed to go buy something and invited me along, I couldn't refuse. She has a job now so she's making her own money, and if she wants to do some therapeutic shopping that's certainly her choice. Yes, I bought a new purse even after just buying one a week ago, but I didn't have to find a place to store the "old" one since Kenzie said she would gladly borrow it for awhile. All this talk of purses reminds me that I was the one to go through Mom's purse after she died, a purse that I gave her. Again, more stuff.

Maddy is going to be a very good tennis player.....she has a good eye for the entire court. I'm looking forward to working and playing w/ her this summer and for many, many more summers to come. I hope she remembers that I went easy on her now when she's young and still learning the game and will take it easy on me when I'm older and slower. We didn't have tennis courts in my hometown so playing tennis when I was growing up was a difficult feat. I used to hit the tennis ball w/ my small, wooden racket against the garage door back when it was two, wooden doors that opened like an actual door. The wooden piece where the doors met always made the tennis ball go in weird directions if I hit it there directly. That certainly helped my reaction time to get the ball before it landed in the neighbor's garden. After Mom and Dad got a new garage door, I had to play against the side of the house. I guess that means I've played on a grass court! Years later when my hometown got tennis courts, Mom, Lori, and I went down to play. We always joked that whoever wanted to win let Mom play on the other team. We'd do the same thing playing foosball. Mom's wrist action wasn't the best so about the only way for me to beat my sister was to have Mom play on her side. She didn't really care about winning or losing, she just loved spending time w/ us.

Saturday, 10 April 2010 -- Day 111 (124)

Great day shopping w/ a great friend and spending time w/ great daughters! Why do we accumulate so much stuff? All we're doing is forcing those great friends and family members to go through all that stuff and figure out what to do w/ it when we're gone. Dad still has most of Mom's clothes; my aunt Irene took some. Dad has asked Kenzie, Maddy, and me if we want any of her shoes or makeup. The shoes are too small for us, and I did take some finger nail polish and some eye cream. He doesn't necessarily want to get rid of Mom's stuff, but he wants someone to get some use out of it. That's the thing about stuff, it has to get used or it serves no purpose. We come into this world naked and that's how we leave it so why do we think stuff gives us purpose? Its pleasure is typically temporary, but is that bad? To have fun, even of the transitory type, is a worthy objective. I've been accumulating a lot of words w/ these 111 blog posts, and I hope someone's getting some use out of them. I'm just glad I don't have to find a place to store them all....my closet is already overflowing.

Friday, 09 April 2010 -- Day 110 (123)

I got to play piano today for some great high school kids who are preparing for the vocal and instrument solo and ensemble contest next weekend. Today was the third time I'd practiced w/ some of them, and it's been incredibly rewarding to see how much they've improved w/ just some positive reinforcement and practice. Some are more naturally talented than others, but the ones who lack the natural ability are usually the ones who are trying extra hard. And, most importantly, they keep coming back, which speaks volumes for their tenacity. They know they don't have the same abilities as others, but they keep trying. My favorite students, and the ones I remember most, have always been the flawed ones, struggling by trying to improve, and that's what I find most admirable.

I also got to spend more one-on-one time w/ Maddy this afternoon, talking, wrestling and snuggling. I love these days! She's a great kid, and I love seeing her develop into a young woman, confident and determined. I just plain love kids, which is why my day ended and started so nicely. In one of my morning classes, a student brought her 10-month-old son, Zeke, to class as a model for her speech on how to change a diaper. Of course, I had to hold him before class got started. You just can't be in a bad or sad mood when you're holding a sweet baby. I guess, now that I think about it, my day actually started out kind of crappy as I learned that a friend and co-worker's sister was recently diagnosed w/ leukemia. She and I talked and cried and laughed in, of all places, the copy room. Fortunately Zeke came after all this, and a happy baby trumps cancer every time.

Thursday, 08 April 2010 -- Day 109 (122)

The Japanese believe that when you try to a new food, you add seven days to your life. Yesterday, I added another seven to mine by trying Vegemite. One of my students is from Australia and did his speech on the history, uses, and nutritional value of Vegemite. He had a big tub of it as a visual aid, and at the end he had samples of the stuff on pieces of bread. Now I'm not sure if the Japanese will grant me the full seven days since one bite was all I could stomach. It literally looked like a black stool sample spread on bread and had a salty taste similar to soy sauce. Ever since his speech, the Men at Work song, Down Under, has been going through my head. You know the line, "He just smiled and gave me a Vegemite sandwich." And Joel was smiling as he watched us Americans try this, probably b/c he knew our reactions. I'm just happy that after nearly 30 years this line finally makes sense, and I can say I've tried one.

If we are patient, eventually we get the answers we are seeking. I remember hearing Mom use the word cauterize when I was probably seven or eight, and thinking to myself that someday I was going to know what that word meant. I don't know when exactly I figured it out or looked it up, but I know was curious so I made a mental note. Mom probably made me look it up.....she was always doing that. She'd never tell us how to spell a word; we always had to look it up. I'm glad she did. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but my curious nature added seven days to my life.

Wednesday, 07 April 2010 -- Day 108 (121)

Prince Siddhartha Gautama left his wife, newborn son, and his father's palace to live the life of an ascetic in hopes of discovering the basis of suffering (desire). He renounced all worldly pleasures eating only one grain of rice each day and drinking his own urine (the ultimate in a zero carbon footprint). Not discovering the source of suffering, he changed paths and indulged himself in every possible pleasure, but he still learned nothing. Finally, while sitting beneath a Bodhi tree, he saw all his past lives and understood that from which all desires stemmed......from within, and that the middle path b/w under- and over-indulgence is best. For this he became the Awakened One, the Buddha. I think Siddhartha the man was very selfish in leaving his family to go on a quest for enlightenment, but he believed that only by losing everything could everything be gained. I hear that! The Buddha believed that we all can achieve this Awakening, and each of us has Buddha within us.

I think this awakening happens every day. Each morning begins our youth as we feel strong and alert. The afternoon is our middle age when we fully apply ourselves, our skills, and our knowledge. The evening is when we rest our tired minds and bodies and reflect upon the joys and sorrows, successes and failures. Buddhism allows for failure as long as we continually strive to do better. I think if I'm a better person today than I was yesterday, and that I'll be an even better person tomorrow than I was today, then this lifetime in a day was a success. Finally, we sleep and rejuvenate ourselves to be reborn the next day, and the cycle continues, but w/o carrying over the baggage of the previous day/life. Yes, there will be both sadness and happiness, but as long as I learn from it and do not succumb to too much of either, the cycle won't spiral out of control. We must start each day naked and fresh and new, looking forward to all the possibilities w/ a glad, positive heart. Live a lifetime in each day, knowing that when I get to the end of it, I've done all I can do, and everything I need to do it is within me.

Tuesday, 06 April 2010 -- Day 107 (120)

Tonight is the night I start to think happy thoughts, and if I do maybe Tinkerbell will come and sprinkle pixie dust so I can fly to NeverLand. Okay, maybe that was a little over-the-top, and others will be wondering what I'm on. What I'm on right now is a positive trip to find the good times in my life. And the first thought that came to mind was a nickname Mom's cousin from California gave me when I was a little girl. She called me Bubbles, not b/c she saw in me a future stripper, but b/c I was always giggling and full of energy. Please, dear followers and readers, don't torture me w/ this newly-found, potentially-framing information, but I'm going to work on bringing Bubbles back. I'm going to laugh long and loud and do so unashamedly. If we're supposed to dance like no one is watching then we should laugh like we mean it, and not the little nasal snicker or the tongue-in-the-teeth, tsst, or the short foghorn blast. I'm talking belly bellowing that brings tears to my eyes. My best happy thoughts are my daughters. I've loved every part of being their mother from pregnancy to the terrible-two's to the tweenie years to the teens and to whatever tomorrow brings. Mom loved being a mom........me too!

Monday, 05 April 2010 -- Day 106 (119)

I am so full of it. Who am I kidding? Last night I wrote about facing grief on my terms. Well, that's a bunch of crap. There are no terms, mine or otherwise. I didn't think after 119 days I could still break down so completely, but last night I was once again sobbing. Thank God my husband was home to hold me, otherwise I think I would have literally ripped in two. After I regained some semblance of composure, I thought about the one time I remember seeing my mother grieve openly. It was 1973, Fountain, CO, at Roby Ranch, the home of my grandfather, who had just passed away. I've already mentioned how Mom wasn't raised by him, but after she married my dad they corresponded, and he usually came out by bus to visit us every Christmas. He died suddenly of a heart attack that year while walking down the streets of Colorado Springs so Mom didn't get the chance to say, "Good-bye," like we did w/ her. She stood in her father's living room sobbing as she looked through his belongings. I was nine, and I remember wanting to go to her to comfort her, but Dad stopped me and told me she needed some time to herself. I hope it's what she wanted and not what he thought she needed, but I think I needed to openly grieve w/ her. If our parents teach us how to deal w/ other difficulties, then they should also teach us how to mourn....that it's okay to cry the minute we lose someone as well as the next day, the next month, the next year, and every day, month, and year after that.

Six years ago after having a brain aneurysm coiled and part of my left kidney removed due to a malignant tumor (I think I've mentioned all this before), I had some type of an "episode" that sent me to intensive care w/ electrodes on my head and monitors all around. At that point we were all really scared and unsure if I'd make it so when my daughters came into the room and saw me like that, they started to cry, which made me cry, or maybe I started, which caused them to follow suit. Mom was on my left side w/ the girls, and my sister was on the right side of my bed. Mom told me not to cry that I needed to be strong for my daughters. My sister disagreed w/ her, and said that I shouldn't be afraid to let my children see me cry. I think Mom always felt, from the time she was a little girl, that she had to be tough and strong, and that openly crying was a sign of weakness. I think her motto was, "Big girls don't cry" so I grew up thinking the same. I'm not suggesting crying my way through life, but I wonder if I cried less in private and more openly w/ my family that I'd be less stressed and therefore less likely to have these meltdowns. But then again, I did start tonight's post saying that I'm full of crap so what do I know?

I guess what I do know is that I'm starting to have more hours of happiness than I do of sadness, and maybe I should start writing more about that. You know, the happiness-breeds-happiness concept. I guess I've felt like if I talked about the happy parts of my life, I'd somehow seem like I wasn't in mourning. I still wonder when people see me laughing and having fun if they think I'm doing my mother an injustice. Mom was a happy person, at least she gave every outward appearance of it since I rarely saw her cry, so I know she'd want me to be happy. In fact, now that I think of it, that's how she usually ended every telephone conversation when I was first living on my own. I need to take her advice. "Be happy, Mari."

Sunday, 04 April 2010 -- Day 105 (118)

Once I got in bed last night, a wave of sadness came crashing over me. The intensity I'm sure was due in part to my fatigue, but also to Mom's obvious absence in every conversation, card game, outing and food preparation this weekend. The hardest thing to do right now is to just keep going: one foot in front of the other, one more holiday to make our loss that much more apparent. People have told me that the pain subsides w/ time, but the loss is always there. I must hold fast to my belief that dealing w/ this now is better than pretending and ignoring because the pain I feel now will only be magnified if I choose to forget. Pain and loss are just like any problem: if you don't face them now they'll come find you later, and then it will be on their terms, and they don't fight fair.

"Here comes Peter Cottontail, hopping down the bunny trail." I just heard Mom's voice singing this song in my head. I've never known any more than that line. There's undoubtedly more to the song, but that's the only part that's stuck. I miss her so very, very much right now. She made everything brighter and happier. I can go through the motions, but at the end of the day all I've proven is that I can make it through the day. Maybe that's good enough for now.

P.S. After I published this, I checked my email and found a message from a young woman in Turkey. She found my blog after doing an Internet search about Under the Tuscan Sun. She felt my sadness across thousands of miles and took the time to send me an email to make me feel happier. There is good in the world, and it comes from one person extending compassion to another. Thank you.

Saturday, 03 April 2010 -- Day 104 (117)

I'm starting this post at 11:54 p.m. after another bittersweet day. Dad and Ron arrived this morning at around 11:00 a.m. I was so very excited to see them, yet this was the first time they'd been here since last 4th of July when we picnicked at the lake. Mom had been w/ us then, so frail that she barely left her lawn chair, but she did join us for a boat ride. So hugging Ron and Dad at their arrival brought the tears, especially when my husband said I sounded just like Mom's gleeful voice calling out to us whenever we arrived to visit her.

After an eventful afternoon and evening, I still had preparations to make for tomorrow's Easter dinner so after Dad and Ron went to bed.........I went to work. Now, Mom would've gotten up early in the morning to finish up her salads, etc., but I have to have it all done before I go to bed. I'll sleep much better. The two salads I made were both recipes that Mom gave me years ago. The strawberry-rice salad had a note written on the back of the recipe card w/ the salutation, "Dear Mari," then her variation on the salad, and signed, "Enjoy. Love, Mom." I know we will, Mom, but it would all taste much better if you were here helping me. The cauliflower-pea salad also had a note on the back once again reminding me not to overcook the peas. Thanks, Mom. It turned out great......again! Well, I've got Easter baskets to fill. Good night, or rather good morning. Twas the night before Easter and all through the house, everyone was sleeping except the Easter Bunny's Helper.

Friday, 02 April 2010 -- Day 103 (116)

My back is aching........what a wonderful feeling. I actually got to do some physical labor today....outside and inside my house. I didn't think about anything except raking and moving furniture and cleaning. I've always been one to over-analyze situations (a collective, "No kidding" can be heard right about now), so it was refreshing today to give my brain the day off and let my body take over. I probably won't be able to get out of bed tomorrow, but knowing company's comin' tomorrow will be my motivator.

Thursday, 01 April 2010 -- Day 102 (115)

I left windows open this afternoon while Kenzie and I went shopping. When we returned this evening, the house had that amazingly fresh smell that is enhanced after a long winter of stuffiness. It's the smell of renewal and rebirth, and in this smell I recognized the elusive emotion that I've been struggling to name these last few days......guilt. These last few days of sunshine, warmth, and freshness were the days that Mom loved the most. These are the days when she would also have had her house opened up, bedding airing on the line, and mattresses spread across two saw horses. I have a picture of me as an infant sitting in the middle of one of these mattresses, placed there and photographed by Mom, to give me an airing out as well. I'm feeling guilty b/c I get to enjoy these smells and the miracle of life and she doesn't. I know her rewards in heaven are much more beautiful than the balmy breeze buzzing through my blinds right now, but that doesn't assuage my guilt for breathing. I didn't feel guilty w/ three feet of snow on the ground b/c, although Mom loved the sparkle of newly fallen snow, she was all about spring and summer....planting and growing and tending. The breeze is telling me now that rain is on the way, and I'd better close these windows. Just....one........more........breath. Could I have mine w/o guilt, please?