Trying

When I ask myself, "what would mom want?" I am unsure of the answer.  I don't think this is a scenario she ever envisioned.  She worried about us and was always thinking about how to be helpful to other people - her family, her friends, those who worked for her.   I don't think she imagined not being in our lives.

The only thing I can think of is that she wouldn't want a part of us to die too.  It's felt that way; like the person I was is gone too, or badly damaged.  I have no spark, no sass, no funny left right now and I don't know how to reclaim any of it.  All I can do now is try - try to be the mom I was or need to be, the wife David needs, the friend she would be, the strong person that she believed in.

As soon as I finish this, I will turn off Desperate Housewives, clean up, do some laundry, and go have lunch with my daughters.  All I can do right now is try, and then try harder.  I know she believed in me, despite my failures and setbacks, and I don't want that faith to be misplaced.

Mom, I love you so much and I hope that somehow, you'll put your hand on my shoulder and push me a little (or put your foot on my butt and give it a kick when necessary).

I miss you every minute, pretty lady.  Stay close, please.

Feathers Brush My Heart

I'm reading a book called Feathers Brush My Heart, stories from women who have lost their mothers and their experiences afterwards of signs from their mom.  I look for signs every day.  I had one unusual experience the other day - who knows.  A bird flew into the glass door; I heard that telltale thunk sound.  It happens a few times a year and I didn't investigate immediately.  About 15 minutes later, I went outside for a cigarette (I know, I know - quit date is targeted for April 17th).  I looked down and in the snowbank by the door, I saw a bird's quivering tail, that's all.  It was buried in the snow and all that was showing was its tail and feet.  I got a shovel that we've been using to scrape ice from the deck and scooped it out, snow and all, thinking that it would do what most birds do: die shortly.  I gently dumped the bird out on the grass and as the snow fell away, it flew off.  I've never seen that happen - ever.

My sister told me that recently mom shared that she had been having dreams she was flying.  Not in an airplane, but flying on her own.  She told Kelsey that she LOVED the dreams, that it was so much fun!  It's a wonderful gift for a person who was once deathly afraid of flying.  Mom overcame a flying phobia years ago and got to visit so many exciting places.  She visited places like Guam and many South American countries for business - when there, she had to travel with an armed driver because of the kidnapping threat.  I think she found it pretty thrilling.  Mom and John traveled abroad a lot with friends and family.  Their last big trip was Italy and Greece.  

One thing I appreciate and love about my mom is that she truly was an optimist; not in the Pollyanna sense that all people are wonderful and every day is super-duper groovy.  But she believed that things could and would always improve and that no matter how dark and scary life sometimes could be, that the lows didn't stay low.  She was truly fearless, and when she WAS scared, she just picked herself up and went headlong into things until she wasn't afraid anymore.  She was just SO STRONG in so many ways.

Tomorrow the kids and I travel to Florida.  We booked these tickets eight days before mom died.  I'm happy to be in her place among her things, but am scared of how sad that might feel.  Most of the time, this still feels completely unreal and absurd.  How can someone we love this fiercely not be here?  I feel her presence and her memory in every second of the day.