Tuesday, 31 August 2010 -- Day 254 (267)

I remember the day I told Mom I was pregnant w/ Maddy.  It was about the end of August, 15 years ago.  She and Dad had come to our house for the weekend, probably to help w/ some project.  Most of their visits when Doug and I were first married were for working weekends or babysitting weekends so Doug and I could work.  I thought I would really surprise her w/ my news, but it turned out that she'd already figured it out.  When I asked her how she knew, she said she noticed that I hadn't tucked in my shirt so she figured something was up, or in this case out.  I never could get anything passed her!

I talked to Dad tonight.  He filled all his prescriptions even though he doesn't know what most of them are for.  He also bought a BIG bottle of baby aspirin.....500 tablets.  I took this as a good sign.  But I was obviously still in the mindset of fear b/c when he started to tell me something about the van, the first thing I thought of was him sitting in it in the garage w/ it running.  As I listened closer to his story, I realized he was talking about something completely different.  Normally he keeps his van parked in the garage, but today he left it out in front of the house b/c he had a haircut appointment.  He said as he sat on the front porch looking at the van, it looked like Mom was sitting in the passenger side just like she always did.  He had a difficult time telling me this story b/c he became very emotional, which then caused me to become emotional.  I could see her sitting there too.  It was just like she was there waiting to go w/ him to his appointment.  I told Dad just that, hoping he would find comfort in thinking that Mom was still riding along.  I want to see her there in the passenger side b/c the last year or so, she was so weak and tired that on longer trips she would sleep in the back seat.  Leukemia does that, makes you really tired.

A 36-year-old man from near my hometown died of leukemia last week.  He went into the hospital and three days later he was gone.  He left a wife and three young children.  As much I mourn Mom's loss, we at least had forewarning that she was sick, and even though we were in denial for much of the time, we knew her time w/ us was limited.  This poor, young woman had no warning.  We are all stunned b/c we think of cancer as being a long, debilitating ordeal.  Maybe it was easier to have it all happen so quickly before he had to go through surgery, chemo, radiation, and hundreds of hours spent at doctor appointments.  I'm pretty sure if Dad were diagnosed w/ cancer right now, he'd refuse any kind of medical treatment.  I wouldn't blame him.  Sometimes I think the treatments are worse than the disease.  Mom fought the disease for as long as she could, but she also knew when it was time to give up the fight.  Nothing ever got passed her.

Monday, 30 August 2010 -- Day 253 (266)

In 100 days Mom will have been gone a year.  I talked about her in an impromptu speech that I modeled for my students today.  I was a little uncertain after first bringing her up as to whether or not I could make it through.  A student gave me the quote from Joe Dirt, "Life's a garden, dig it."  I brought up how I shared a love of gardening w/ Mom, and I did choke up a little when I mentioned how I thought that the reason my mum came back was b/c of her. I would consider this progress; I just don't know what I'm progressing toward.

Sunday, 29 August 2010 -- Day 252 (265)

Just when I thought Dad could bend and not break, he hits me w/ this comment this morning at breakfast while sorting out his pills, "I've thought about just not taking them."  I will admit that I've wondered what keeps Dad from joining Mom, but hearing him actually say that he might do something to make that happen puts words to my fears.  I do believe in my heart-of-hearts that he would never do anything to cause his own demise b/c he knows he would never see Mom again.  But taking your own life and not taking life-sustaining medicines may be looked upon differently.  I could be interpreting his comment completely wrong, and I can't say for sure b/c I was too afraid to ask him what he meant by that.  God, you'd think I'd learned my lesson about not always voicing my thoughts and feelings to Mom.  I did remind him to fill his prescriptions tomorrow, and he said he would.  There was definitely a metamessage, a message that's implied within another message, here that I want him to be around for awhile longer. 

Each time I visit him, however, he talks more about matters relating to after his death.  He was concerned about his life insurance policy so I had to check to make sure that, after Mom's death, we kids are listed as his beneficiaries.  We also talked about him selling the house to the four of us kids for a dollar, if that's allowed, so the house won't be part of the estate.  He has his 85th birthday coming up on the 18th of September.  I asked him what he wanted, and the first comment out of his mouth was, "Maybe I won't be around by then."  Okay, all these little things are starting to add up to a big thing so I'm definitely going to have to talk to him about my fears.  There was one sign of looking toward the future.  We talked about seeding over one of Mom's flower beds by the garage next spring b/c it's just too sad to see it like it is now, full of weeds.

For any of you reading this blog who know my dad, please send him a card or give him a call.  I don't think he's adjusting as well as I've been deluding myself into thinking.  I've been so engrossed in my own grief that I haven't been paying attention as to how he's handling his.  Today I wore one of Mom's dresses that I took about a year or so before she died b/c she was going to give it to Goodwill.   Dad didn't know this. Once I was dressed in it this morning for church, Dad recognized it immediately as being one of Mom's.  I'm not so sure now if it was wise for me to wear it in front of him.  He's given me permission several times to take any of her clothes, but I don't think he was prepared for the shock of actually seeing me in something of hers.  I think Maddy is making some progress toward dealing w/ Mom's death.  She agreed to take some of her colored, plastic bracelets.  None of us has watched any of the many videos that she took when my girls were growing up.  She wouldn't be in them, but we'd be able to hear her voice.  I plan to have them showing during Kenzie's high school graduation party next May so I'd better work up the nerve in the next few months.

Saturday, 28 August 2010 -- Day 251 (264)

Driving down to Dad's today, I again saw on the bank of a creek this enormous tree that had blown over a couple of years ago.  Each time I pass it I expect it to be showing signs of death and decay, but even today it looks green and lush.  There's obviously enough of the root structure still in tact and absorbing moisture from the creek.  It's actually looking more like a giant bush now.  The obvious lessons here are: 1) grow where you're planted, 2) make the best of any difficult situation, and 3) even when we start out as one thing, we may very well become another, equally beautiful, equally useful, entity.

Dad reminds me of this tree.  He has lost his grandparents, parents, four siblings, a wife, a granddaughter, and countless aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends.  Yet despite being blown over by all this, he has learned to adapt and keep growing.  The house looks exactly the way it did when Mom was alive, and Dad has learned to cook, clean, and do laundry to keep it that way.  He says he regrets more than ever his sixth-grade education b/c it limits his ability to write out checks, but even that has caused him to reach deep in asking for assistance from family and friends.  Dad has always been the type who rarely asked for help......probably where I learned it.

BTW.....I brought the flower-shaped solar light that I found several weeks ago.  It's really cool in that, after absorbing the sun's rays all day, it turns different colors while glowing at night.....kinda like a perpetual fireworks display.  We can't take it out to Mom's grave yet b/c the road to the cemetery isn't easily accessible while a bridge is being repaired.  So the light is stuck in Mom's front flower bed amongst her budding Mums, lighting up her garden.  Dad thinks its pretty cool so I might have to get another one shaped like a hummingbird for him.

Friday, 27 August 2010 -- Day 250 (263)

Parents and educators are very similar.  We try to give our kids the knowledge and skills that will allow them to figure out any problem and situation.  We provide them the tools now to handle whatever comes their way in the future.  Here's a very simple example.  Remember those brownies I was making last night.  Well, one pan got a little overly done around the edges.  I managed to salvage the inside part, but I didn't want to throw the outsides pieces away.  I remembered a trick Mom taught me about softening up brown sugar when it starts to crystallize, and I hypothesized that it might work to soften up the brownie edges.too  I put the edges in a Ziploc bag w/ a piece of bread this morning, and now that I'm home at lunch, the pieces were softer.  It worked.  Mom gave me a basic tool (slice of bread to soften crystallized foods)  that I was able to apply to another problem beyond the original one (soften brownie edges the same way as brown sugar).  When we learn the basic lessons, we can then apply them to other situations for the rests of our lives.  Through those lessons then our parents and teachers will always be w/ us.

Thursday, 26 August 2010 -- Day 249 (262)

I think it has helped to get to bed at a reasonable time by doing this blog earlier, but it's not happening tonight.  After watching seven games of my daughters' volleyball teams and baking two pans of brownies for tomorrow night's tailgater, it's nearly after 10:30 at night.  This would've been just another typical day for Mom after washing, cleaning, cooking, mending, and making birthday treats for me to take to school or hand washing my softball uniform.  My great grandmother's journals were all about her typical daily activities, and it still amazes me how a woman in the late 19th and early 20th centuries never had time for herself b/c she was always doing for others. Not much changed w/ Mom in the late 20th and early 21st centuries.  I still believe that she kept a journal; I just haven't found it.  My sister gave her one for Christmas many years ago, and I thought one time she told me that she had filled it up.  Or maybe she said she needed to start writing to fill it up.  Why didn't I listen better then?  I keep thinking that tucked behind some casserole dish stored in a closet or some Christmas decoration stored in a drawer, her journal will be hiding, waiting to reveal all the secrets and feelings she was never able to verbalize to us.  There were so many times when she wished she had asked her dad more questions about her mother.  She never did, and when he died all his stories went w/ him.  I fell into the same trap b/c I didn't heed her warning.  I teach my students that 45% of our time is spent listening, yet most of us want to spend 100% of our time talking and that keeps us from listening well.  Take time to listen, it's the cheapest gift you can give.

Wednesday, 25 August 2010 -- Day 248 (261)

I hate not being able to sleep.  I don't know how Ron used to function by only being able to sleep for four hours at a time.  I thought getting out my feelings in this blog would keep me from bottling everything up.  You know, the whole "sleep like the dead."  Those who have a clear conscience have no problem sleeping.  Well, I think this blog has been backfiring on me.  I had an epiphany the other night that this blog make actual be the reason for my sucky sleep patterns. I usually write just before going to bed, right after I churn up all my feelings.  It's no wonder I can't fall asleep.  My head and heart are still running wild.  Yesterday, I decided to test this hypothesis by writing early so I could get to bed earlier.  Last night I slept wonderfully.  So, I'm going to try this again tonight.  Write.  Do something less taxing on my emotions.  Go to bed. 

Tuesday, 24 August 2010 -- Day 247 (260)

The leaves from the Walnut trees having been falling for a couple of weeks now, and many on the ground have alread turned brown and dried up.  Walking Kea today, I thought about a song Mom used to teach her Sunday School children as well as my children.  It goes:

"Brown leaves crunching when we walk. Air that is (something) when we talk."  I obviously don't remember it all, but imagine little three-year-olds marching in-place pretending to crunch dried leaves.  That was me today w/ a little less exuberance.

We had a storm pass through last night so it's much cooler today w/ a deliciously fresh southwesterly breeze.  It was cool enough to wear a sweater while walking Kea this noon, which made me think of another song Mom used to teach us:

"Zip up your jacket, put on your cap.  Mister Southwind is taking a nap.  Mister Northwind will nip at your nose, and freeze your fingers and your toes." 

Autumn is only about a month away, and w/ it we'll be entering the last season for the first time w/o Mom.  I hope I can always picture her in every season of the year through every season of her life.

Monday, 23 August 2010 -- Day 246 (259)

I wink at the moon for it knows my secret.
Its full, round face illuminates my tear.
Its brightness vanquishes the ache in my heart,
From wishing you were here.
There are no stars for wishing,
And it wouldn't be fair, I fear.
For wishing would keep you here with me
And not with your Father dear.

I sometimes hear your voice amid
the falling and waking hours.
I sometimes see you standing among
the growing and dieing flowers.
I sometimes smell your fragrance afresh
in warm summer showers.
I sometimes feel your touch atop
my hand to instill your powers.

The moon knows all this from a tear and a wink
How I hate that you're missing my life.
Is that selfish?  Am I on the brink?
Well, I'm tired of playing the brave heart
With a quick smile and a faster blink
Because it's too far past the mourning time
For public signs of grief, so I must shrink
From the pain that only the moon knows.

I loathe the cancers that robbed you of life
From being a mother, grandmother, and wife.
I want to scream at the moon like a blaring fife
But instead I wink at the moon so I don't feel the knife
Thrust toward the depths of my strife.
My mother is dead, and the moon hears my bewailing
It sees my wink and sends my secret sailing
Toward the morning sun where promise is railing.

Sunday, 22 August 2010 -- Day 245 (258)

In talking to Dad tonight he mentioned how he found a piece of pie on his back porch today when he got home from church.  No note.  No name.  Just a piece of apple pie from a friend.  I am so grateful to the people of my hometown who think of Dad.  I should do the same for my neighbor, Bill, whose wife died about two years ago.  My excuses are, "I'm too busy," or "He has family here in town to help him."  The fact is most of the people who bring Dad food are just as busy or busier than I am, and my brother, David, lives right there in town.  I do talk to Bill whenever I'm mowing my yard and he comes outside, but that's not enough.

I was watching a show on Iowa Public Television today about a woman who had a radio show and a newspaper column back in the 1950's.  They talked about how people always brought over food to a house where someone had died.  We still follow this tradition, but usually that thoughtfulness wanes in the days after the death and the funeral.  Fortunately, these old and new friends have a deep regard for Mom to continue to look after Dad.  I think they care a lot for him too.

Saturday, 21 August 2010 -- Day 244 (257)

My friend, Barb, gave me some flower seeds last fall.  I think they're called a Moon Flower.  Anyway the plant has numerous blossoms on it, and during these past few full moon evenings, one blossom opens up.  One, just one, for one night and then it's done.  But it's a big, beautiful, white, bell-shaped flower of which I've never seen anything w/ which to compare.  The blossoms have been forming for about three weeks, and now, one by one, each  blooms in turn.  This reminds me of the story of the Thornbird that flies thousands of miles looking for a certain tree, and upon finding it, thrusts its breast onto a thorn and as it dies sings the most beautiful song of its life.  Life really is fleeting.   We sing our songs and bloom where we're planted, and then it's over.  All that's left is for someone to say, "Gosh, that was a lovely song," or "Wow, that was an amazing flower."  Life isn't measured by the amount of time we're around, but how much we impact those around us.  For about 30,000 days Mom was on this earth, and I want my children and grandchildren and great grandchildren to always know the impact she had on those around her.

Friday, 20 August 2010 -- Day 243 (256)

I know a mother and a grandmother can't be around for every change and big event, but I always thought Mom would still be around to see my daughters graduate from high school and college and still be around to see them get married.  Mom only got to see half of her grandchildren graduate and see only three of them married w/ children.  On the night Mom died, Doug and the girls were driving down to the hospital.  When I told Maddy that we were taking out Grandma's breathing tube, she screamed at me, "She said she would be here to see me graduate.  She promised."  Why couldn't she keep that promise?  Was it so necessary that she join God in heaven again right now?  Did he take her back b/c we weren't appreciating her enough here?  I want a do-over.

Thursday, 19 August, 2010 -- Day 242 (255)

I decorated my girls' school lockers yesterday afternoon for their volleyball season.  I felt like a cheerleader again.  We never decorated players' lockers, but we did spend considerable amounts of time making posters to hang in the hallways.  So as I created and cut and taped, I smiled, realizing how much happier I was doing this for my daughters than I ever was doing it for my peers.  Not sure if I ever mentioned this, but Mom was a cheerleader too until she got married at 16 and quit school after her junior year.  I just now realized that she would've finished her junior year of high school as a married woman since Mom and Dad were married 16 January 1947.  It all makes sense now.  She used to tell me how Dad didn't want her to be a cheerleader anymore after they got married.  She should've been still been a cheerleader for the basketball season.  How strange to have heard Mom mention this for most of my life and for it to just now sink in.  I must be the ultimate in dense.  I guess I've never really taken the time to put all the details of Mom's life in perspective.  If it wasn't for this blog, I'm not sure that I ever would.

Wednesday, 18 August 2010 -- Day 241 (254)

I realized today that my clothing choices have come full circle, and Mom influenced most of them.  In my childhood I liked to clomp around in red high heels driving my pedal car w/ a pencil hanging out of my mouth for my cigarette.  In my adolescence and teens, I had shoes galore and earrings to match every outfit.  Mom had a big influence on these formative years when it came to the way I dressed.  We shared clothes, shoes, and jewelry.  I have a picture of her on my refrigerator from the mid-1980's when her bracelets and earrings perfecting matched her blouse and skirt.  She was a sharp dresser.  Once I was on my own, I still loved clothes and shoes, but I was limited to whatever Mom would make me and any shoes that I could pick up cheap.  Once I hit grad school, I went through a hippie phase wearing loose fitting gunny-sack-type jumpers.  I owned two pairs of shoes at that time....one black and one brown.  These were the years that I was working at Scattergood Friends School and protesting the first Gulf War.  I lived a minimalist lifestyle.  Mom and I didn't have a lot of common clothing choices during these years, but when it came time for me to do my student teaching, she hooked me up again w/ suits and dresses.  It wasn't until I met Doug that I started wearing shorter skirts, more figure-flattering clothing.  Didn't even realize I had a figure.  Dad has a picture of Mom wearing short shorts and high heels.  She had amazing legs.  Dad liked her in short shorts much like Doug likes me to show some leg. 

My clothing and shoes and jewelry have been steadily increasing over the last five years.  Doug built us a walk-in closet about that time, and I've been working diligently to take up 3/4's of it.  Mom used to call herself the Imelda Marcos of the West, which would make me Imelda, Jr.  Mackenzie has influenced many of my accessory purchases lately.  I bought four-inch, wedge sandals thanks to her.  W/ red toe-nail polish, my feet look just like Mom's.....Bunyan and all.  I wanted an orange purse earlier this summer, and Kenzie convinced me to buy it.  Twice I looked at this really sharp pair of camel colored pumps, and after tiring of listening to my waffling, Kenzie talked me into them.  She has good taste so I'm learning to listen to her suggestions more.  So here I am, back in high heels, driving my red Escape, and it's been 19 years since I quit smoking. 

Tuesday, 17 August 2010 -- Day 240 (253)

While at HyVee this afternoon, I talked w/ Karen, my neighbor down the street.   Her garden was selected  Garden of the Month by the city garden club, and she had three Chrysanthemum plants in her cart. I commented on the difficulty I've always had getting my Mums to come back each year, but this year I finally had one plant return.  She said that she's never had any Mums make it through the winter so I told her about Mom's beautiful Mums and how they return every year.  Karen said that we live too far north for the Mums to survive our winters, and that Mom's Mums, being 150 miles to the south, would make it.  I'm definitely not a master gardener so the only explanation for my Mum plant returning, after years of failure, can be that Mom's green thumb blessed my garden. 

Monday, 16 August 2010 -- Day 239 (252)

I’ve noticed lately that when I think of Mom, I think of her when she was about the age I am now. I was in the 6th grade when she was 46. Those were happy times, 34 years ago. Mom was in her prime. During these past seven months, however, the only way I could envision her was ravaged by cancer, but recalling memories of Mom in this blog has helped me to remember her in happier, healthier times. Maybe that’s part of working through the grieving process by regressing through time to a point where we can remember a loved one w/ a smile rather than a tear. When they pass, they remain in that just-before-death state. Then as the months pass, those left behind begin to make peace w/ the passing, and we enter a time warp where we go back, back, back to happier days. Guess that makes this a new twist on "Back to the Future."

Sunday, 15 August 2010 -- Day 238 (251)

(NOTE:  We had Internet problems so my posts for 15-16 August were written on the dates but posted on the 17th.)

I’m afraid to be who I once was. The person I was before when Mom was alive doesn’t seem to exist, or she’s hiding really, really well. I can’t be the Super Mom I used to be b/c that’s who I was when she was alive. Maybe I never was, but she always made me feel like I was. She even told me once that she wasn’t sure she could do what I do. How’s that for moral support and unconditional love. Lately I don’t want to keep a clean house and cook meals b/c that’s who I was when Mom was here. I don’t know who to be w/o her. Since the point at which the reality of her death sank in, I’ve been trying to figure out the person I’m going to be. Maybe that’s why I’ve been living more for the moment b/c I don’t know how to look toward a future w/o Mom. I don’t know who to be w/o being Lucy’s daughter. I know the logical answer is that I’m still Lucy’s daughter. Maybe I need to make a bracelet that says, “WWLD”…. “What Would Lucy Do.” Then I could feel like she’s always w/ me, and then I could go back to a more familiar existence. I’m just afraid to be who I once was, and I’m struggling to figure out who I am. God, I feel like I’m 15 again. If I was 15, Mom would still be alive.

Saturday 14 August 2010 -- Day 237 (250)

The cicadas or katydids (I'm not sure which is which or if they're the same thing) are singing up a storm.......maybe even literally. It's beautiful to hear them from inside my house and not just when walking the dog at night. Yes, that means my windows are open after weeks of having on the central air. Yippee!! This time of the year is so full of life. Driving home from Menard's today w/ Doug, I looked, I mean really looked at all the shades of green in the fields. Everything is full and lush. This is how Iowa is meant to be, alive and growing. In just a couple of months the fields will be stripped bare. I hate that. I know harvest is necessary to continue life, but the earth is left naked afterward. Then when the snow comes, there is stillness.....no katydids.

I did a little Internet research on the differences among katydids, cicadas, and locusts. I don't understand it all, but I did discover that there IS a difference b/w katydids and cicadas although they both sing at night. So I'm still not sure what I'm listening to right now, but I love the rhythmic pulse. The main reason I went searching on the Net was to find out about the connection b/w the katydids and the first frost. One site I found on weather superstitions said that the first song of the katydid means the first frost will be in six weeks. I'm going to interpret that to mean the first time I was able to listen to them w/ my windows open. I also found the superstition that Dad and Aunt Irene always say, "Rain before seven, clear by eleven." I'm not sure if it can really be considered a superstition or even a myth b/c it generally seems to ring true.

I found another website w/ FAQ's about locusts, grasshoppers, cicadas, and katydids. One question was, "Are cicadas June bugs?" I could've told them the answer to that one. No, June bugs are those giant, black bugs that come out in June, and Cicadas are like grasshoppers that come out in late summer. Duh!! My first experience w/ a June bug was as a little girl, who, after having my bedroom light on for a long time, turned it off only to hear something hitting the screen of my window. I ran downstairs to tell Mom that something was outside my window, trying to get in. She came up to my room, sat on my bed, listened for a short while, then upon hearing the bumping against my screen, knew immediately that it was June bug. She told me he had been attracted to my light. I liked that, but I still think they're big, ugly bugs. But the katydid, ah the katydid, what exactly is it that Katy did? She reminded me of a summer night a really long time ago when I had a mom to protect and instruct me.

Friday, 13 August 2010 -- Day 236 (249)

It's Friday, the 13th, and a black cat crossed my path tonight while riding in the car w/ Maddy. Well, it didn't exactly cross my path, it rather darted out of the way while I gingerly arced my car in the opposite direction. It was eating something in the middle of the road that looked like dry cereal from a Styrofoam bowl. There's bound to be some culture somewhere that thinks this is a sign of good luck so right now I'm claiming that cultural heritage.

I'm one of those people who says she's not superstitious while secretly being superstitious. Not the "don't open an umbrella inside" or "never walk under a ladder" kind of superstitious, but the kind who believes that whatever you do on New Year's Eve will be a sign of the year to come. Or that whatever you dream about on your first night in a new home will come true. These superstitions never hold true, yet I hold onto them. They're probably something Mom passed down to me, and I definitely want to hold onto her.

Thursday, 12 August 2010 -- Day 235 (248)

I don't seem to look forward to events like I used to. Usually at this time of year I'd be looking forward to football and volleyball games, cooler weather, and changing my seasonal decorations. Mom always had decorations for all the seasons and holidays, or did I start the decorating trend. It's funny how our lives can so intricately meld w/ another's that we're not sure where one starts and the other ends.

It's usually the dog days of summer that get me thinking about the cooler, less humid days of autumn. I'm not sure what exactly is causing my lac-a-daisical (sp?) attitude. Maybe it's b/c of Mom's death, or maybe b/c it's Mackenzie's senior year of high school, and I know she's about to have her last, first day of public school in a couple of weeks. But even as she has her last volleyball season and her last year of show choir, she's about to have a lot of first's as well. Education is a microcosm of life. We begin, and we end so we can begin something new. It might even be that I've finally stopped living so much for the future and started living for the now. It feels good to live more in the present, but there are times that I get caught off-guard or unprepared. I find myself preparing less for encounters and relying more on my ability to adapt and wing-it. I used to plan out potential conversations. I don't do that as much anymore. I think this is a good thing. I'll keep you posted.

Wednesday, 11 August 2010 -- Day 234 (247)

It's there at the bottom of my tennis bag. That's where I always keep it, but I haven't needed it much this summer. Tonight, sweat dripping while playing tennis w/ Maddy, I remembered it was there at the bottom of my bag. Mom helped Maddy make it for me a couple of summers ago when Maddy stayed w/ her and Dad for a week. A week at Grandma Miller's always involved trips to the library, Vacation Bible School, swimming, and a sewing project. The sewing project that now sat in the bottom of my tennis bag involved sewing some red, white, and blue, fabric tennis rackets onto a white terry cloth towel. Tonight was the first time I used this towel since Mom passed away. It was fitting that Maddy was w/ me so she could point out which of the tennis rackets Mom sewed on first to show her how to do it. I never knew that until tonight sitting on a bench at the tennis court w/ my Maddy May. I realized that Mom was sitting there w/ us too. W/o her we wouldn't have been there sitting on that bench, and we wouldn't have anything w/ which to wipe our faces.

Tuesday, 10 August 2010 -- Day 233 (246)

I usually have the best intentions of writing in this blog earlier in the evening so I can get to bed earlier. Somehow it never happens. Some days I feel like I really have something insightful to share. Today isn't one of them. I've been staring at this screen for about an hour, but my brain feels as empty as this page. Maybe committing to writing in this blog every day was a stupid idea. But as they say in one of my favorite movies, Under the Tuscan Sun, "The world is filled w/ stupid ideas. Take one and run w/ it." I actually have had a crazy idea about publishing a memoir based on this blog. I was toying w/ titles like Looking for Elusive Lucy or Looking for Lucy. Right now that idea not only sounds stupid but also a lot of work.

Monday, 09 August 2010 -- Day 232 (245)

Kenzie was supposed to have a sigmoidoscopy today, and even though she's not feeling completely well, she decided she didn't want it. I also cancelled the MRI that was scheduled for Wednesday. Doug and I have decided that it's important now for her to voice an opinion about her health care. She must be part of the decision-making process so she feels she has some semblance of control. I know one of the most maddening aspects of having health issues is feeling that your body has let you down and it's controlling how you live. I felt it w/ my kidney cancer and brain aneurysm, and I know Mom felt it w/ all her cancers. Right now I think it's more important for Kenzie's mental health that she not have these medical procedures so she can focus on beginning her senior year of volleyball, her senior pictures, and all the other the senior firsts and public school lasts.

Sunday, 08 August 2010 -- Day 231 (244)

Maddy comes home early tomorrow morning, probably around 3:00 a.m. I'm going to sleep on the couch so I can hear her when she gets in. I have to be close to welcome her home. "I'm so happy when we're all in the same time zone." This is one of Meryl Streep's lines from the movie, It's Complicated. I'm glad to be returning to a more normal, stay-at-home lifestyle. It's nice to finally start feeling like my life is normal, although very little in the last 244 days has been like it's always been. I'm always telling my students to step out of their comfort zones, but I'm learning that sometimes all that means is that you're uncomfortable. This is another concept from the aforementioned movie. (Can you tell I just watched it tonight?) I've been forced out of my comfort zone and into a motherless lifestyle. I'm still not comfortable w/ it, but in relinquishing some of the control over these feelings, I'm getting better at being more open w/ others who want to be a part of my life. My life has been complicated these last eight months. Some days I take a step forward toward healing, and the next day it's three steps backward. I guess that's normal.

Saturday, 07 August 2010 -- Day 230 (243)

Doug and I stayed w/ friends last night in Norwalk so we could watch Kenzie's volleyball scrimmages in Des Moines this morning. After the scrimmages, Doug played golf w/ an old buddy while Kenzie and I took a drive down memory lane. We returned to the two houses that we lived in during the first six years of her life. The one is run down and overgrown, and it was sad to see it in such a state when it appears so differently in my memory. I almost wish we hadn't seen it like that so I could forever remember it my way. This was also a precious opportunity to go back to some of our old haunts such as the park, the library, her first school, her preschool, etc. to see what she remembered. As we drove past the small mound of grass by the water tower she said, "That's the hill we used to sled down? It seemed so much bigger." It was also fun for me to say, "This is the park I used to take you to when you were two," and "This is the church that had the dead cricket in the doorway that freaked you out," and "Every time we walked by this house, you had to walk atop the retaining wall." She had no recollection of these, but I could show her how much I enjoyed spending time w/ her even before she had any recollection of those times. The more we drove around, the more the memories flashed. "This is where we got that kitten on the 4th of July, and it always scratched us so we had to give it back," and "There used to be mulberry bushes there."

I never took these trips down memory lane w/ Mom. There was no need. We lived in the same house my entire life. Not many people can say their parents lived in the same house for 60 years, but I can. Walking through that house is like walking through my childhood. Mom mentioned numerous times over the years, when certain houses in town would go up for sale, that she wouldn't mind living there. Each time I would shoot down the idea by saying, "You can't buy another house. It wouldn't be home." What a stupid, selfish brat I was. Mom always wanted a bigger house w/ a bigger kitchen and a dining room, and all I said was, "I couldn't bear the thought of someone else living in our house." A home isn't a house; a home is a family. And family would've remained no matter where they lived. Now what's left is a house that no longer feels like home.

I'm glad that for both Kenzie and me the house on Memory Lane brings thoughts of love and warmth from family not from doors and windows and plaster and concrete.

Friday, 06 August 2010 -- Day 229 (242)

I'm finding that it's getting easier to mention Mom's passing in passing, but I still can't go into much personal detail about our relationship when talking face-to-face. For example, I've shared w/ my fast track students that my mom passed away last December, but I can't go beyond that. For example, in class we talk about nonverbal communication, in general, and haptics (touch), in specific. We talk about the importance of the location, duration, and intensity of the touch as well as touch deprivation. Touch and lack of touch indicates much about a relationship. In past semesters and years, I shared w/ my students how I always used to sit on my mom's lap up until the point that I became a mother myself. Even as a woman in my late 20's, I enjoyed sitting on Mom's lap despite having 5 inches and 30 pounds on her. Anyway, I'm still not at a point where I can talk about this. I'm guessing that since just five months ago I wasn't even able to tell people she had passed away w/o tearing up, eventually I'll get to the point where I can share more of the stories about our relationship w/o that catch in my throat.

Thursday, 05 August 2010 -- Day 228 (241)

I stopped at WalMart after class today to get some cards and a flash drive. As usual there was a screaming child and a negligent parent. Ignoring a child screaming, "I'm tired. But I'm tired," was impossible for everyone in the store so I don't understand how the mother could casually walk the aisles pushing an empty cart. I think WalMart is a magnet for irresponsible parents. An elderly man in front of me at the checkout was so stooped over he could barely see to sign his name on the credit card machine. He reminded me of Grandma Ruth. She's getting so hunched over that talking to her requires kneeling down in front of her. She's ready to die. She wants to die. She has always been a proud woman, and being in such a state is humiliating for her. Aging is an irrational joke. It debilitates us when we have the most knowledge and time and the least opportunity to use them. Mom was ready for death, but I know she would've liked more time.

Wednesday, 04 August 2010 -- Day 227 (240)

The humidity has zapped my energy. I graded all day and prepared for class tomorrow, which also wiped me out. I have a quiet house. Maddy is in Ohio. Kenzie is in Des Moines. I've got to teach all day tomorrow. I'm going to bed.

Tuesday, 03 August 2010 -- Day 226 (239)

Maddy left for Ohio this afternoon to attend the wedding of a former babysitting who has become more of a family member than a former student of mine. Last night was a tough one for Maddy. She couldn't fall asleep b/c she was anxious about being 16 hours from home. I told her, among other things, that night time is always the worst time for missing and worrying about loved ones. I knew she'd feel better in the morning, but I stayed w/ her and fell asleep w/ her. Today everything was fine, and she was gung-ho to go.

Three years ago when Kenzie went to a leadership conference in Baltimore, I gave her a journal where I filled the first several pages w/ stories, remembrances, pictures, and advice. The idea then was for her to fill the remaining pages w/ her thoughts and experiences. I did the same for Maddy to take w/ her on this trip to Ohio. I had to get up at 5:00 this morning to finish it before I left for work. Mom was always doing things like that for me. It was the first semester of my freshman year of high school. I was in the fall musical, Rock Hop, and I needed a poodle skirt. As w/ all of my costumes, Mom made it. Lying in bed one night, I heard her sewing machine whirring away as she worked to finish my skirt before dress rehearsal. I remember wondering at the time if I'd be able to stay up all hours doing such things for my child one day. Just like most things, we question if we'll be able to do something, and we don't really know if we can until we're faced w/ it. I questioned if I'd be able to cope w/ the death of a parent. At times I'm not sure how well I am, but I'm still here, and I'm still trying.

Monday, 02 August 2010 -- Day 225 (238)

Every once in a while I catch glimpses of my old life. Today when driving home from the fast track I'm teaching, I felt almost giddy thinking about how well this first day of class went. Days like today remind me why I became a teacher. Having students who are excited to learn what I have to teach is stimulating. I've had a two-month break from teaching so part of my excitement comes from feeling revitalized. I'm out of shape for teaching eight solid hours so I'm tired, but even through the fatigue I had a moment where I remembered why I do what I do. I teach this same fast track every year, and last year when I taught it I had just returned from a family vacation in Mexico, and Mom was still alive. Just for that moment I felt like I did last year when everything and everyone in my life was in order. Many parts of my world are out of orbit now, but for just one split second I felt whole.

Sunday, 01 August 2010 -- Day 224 (237)

I'm officially back in the swing of things. I did laundry, mowed lawn, and prepared for my fast track class that starts tomorrow.

Mom never worked on Sunday. She saw this day of the week as a day for church and rest. Sunday's were the day when we'd usually get in the car and go "visiting." We never knew where we'd end up, but Dad usually had a plan and a route. These were the days before Internet and iPods and Blackberries so riding in the car meant looking out the window and guessing where we were going. Whoever we were visiting didn't worry about entertaining us kids w/ toys or games. We made our own games or we listened to the grownups. This was important training to teach us how to interact w/ others, and I worry that my daughters are missing out on this lesson. They don't even have to drive in a car to go visiting.

I'm really starting to sound like my mother! I don't mind.