An Invincible Summer - A Woman's Journey

Sometimes when I laugh, a real laugh, not a big ol’ belly laugh but a tickled to the core laugh, I sound just like my mother. And it’s interesting that while being delighted and pleased that I hear her inside me, I also ache just a little. 

Working was all I could do for awhile. I didn't sleep or eat. I certainly wasn't parenting or reaching out to friends. It was a dark time and I just couldn't find a door or even a cracked window. But I could work and work I did.  I took a client call, a gal I've know very surfacy for decades. She's educated, wise and witty. We talked once every 4 or 5 years, discuss a solution to a problem, and say our goodbyes. This time was different. Maybe she could tell by the tone of my voice. I'm not sure how she knew. but with her sweet, southern drawl she said, "So tell me dear, how ya doin?" I held my breath for a moment, trying to quell the coming downpour, trying to steel myself against the tide. She said something else, with a caring tone, I can't even remember what it was.  I told her I was doing ok. "Come on honey, what's on your heart?", she says. I didn't mean to say it, it was so unexpected. I didn't say my husband's an ad...

Today is my Mom's birthday. She would have been 85. Almost 13 years ago we sat in the hospital waiting for the moment for her to be released from her earthly pain. Ovarian cancer is a brutal bitch that, while spending years quietly taking over cell after cell, when finally making itself known, makes sure that you don't spend another waking moment without the knowledge it is there. I am so thankful for having my family to go through that moment together. In that tiny hospital room, with my beautiful mom struggling for each ragged breath, and her thoughts being somewhere else (or was she still thinking....who knows the mysteries of death), there was 9 or 10 of us. We sat and spoke of our love for her and wondered if we knew how to do life without her. I still wonder that sometimes. How do you figure out life without the glue that holds it together? Well, we've done it, of course. Kept going.....but it changed things. The glue has loosened and the parts don't fit th...

I am reading a book called Motherless Daughters. So far, I find it is touching parts of me that I have tidily put away. I wasn't a child when I lost my mother but the child inside of me still needed her. That part that couldn't quite grow up, that piece that didn't trust the world or herself. I think of some of my friends who lost their mothers young or whose mothers were not able to be mothers for whatever reason and I ache for them even though, a few in particular, are incredibly strong women; far more well adapted for this world than I am. I remember my sister telling me that when a friend asked her about her family, she, without any forethought and with utter surprise, said, "I am an orphan". She was 55 and 57 when my parents died. I still miss my mom, 10 years on, but through counseling and ACA and healing, I don't sit in it and feel like I need her to come save me, hold me and comfort me in my pain. Now I miss her dear friendship and one of the few ...

There was a short break in rain yesterday and off the to the golf course we went. It was stunning! I spent some time pretending I was neighbors with my friend  Bill  (a talented photographer in Ireland), as all I could see was green everywhere I looked. The air was crisp and wind was light, so that this fair weather girl, so long as I wore a jacket, was pretty comfortable.We had a blast even though my game is not so great after breaking my wrist. Ah well, I'll get there.  Earlier, I had texted my girls to let them know that I had had the most amazing morning at work (info to follow). Then I got this while golfing: Now I know that being 22 and still living at home is probably not my girls ideal. She's got about 9 more months of school and then some time to get on her feet before she can fly again. But I love that she looks for the positive and I love that we have a pretty darn good relationship. It was a good mom day and a really wonderful day with the B...

“Elsa sits in granny’s wardrobe. It smells of granny. The whole house smells of Granny. There something special about a Granny’s house, even if ten or twenty or thirty years go by you never forget how it smells “. From My Grandmother Asked Me To Tell You She' Sorry My girl and I had a sweet conversation one day. She was laying in bed and feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin when she texted me about how much it reminded her of being at grandmas house. Gigi has a great memory. My mom got sick when Gigi was pretty young but before that they spent a ton of time together as my mom had been her caregiver for her first few years. They played and shopped and watched Dharma and Gregg together. It was wonderful bonding time. Gigi and I spoke later of the day of my moms death. We shared my moms last breaths with many loved ones. It was a privilege but it was heartbreaking. I was lost...I couldn't breathe right. Afterwards, I knew I couldn’t go home right away. Gigi and I stopped...

30 years ago, this very moment, I was experiencing a whole bunch of firsts. First time for: being in the hospital (except for my own birth) having surgery being put under anesthesia having my pubes shaved meeting the biggest part of my heart in human form I remember being so nervous. Feeling out of control. Having to trust practical strangers with so much. Wondering what kind of mom I would be, what kind of parents we would be. If I knew then what I know now.....I would have cried. Cried for that man who was a good father, who tried so hard, but, in the end, could not hold it all together. I loved him and I remember clearly, despite the fact of being on loads of drugs for the planned C-section, how he held that girl and wept from pure joy. He held her close, just below his chin, as his tear flowed. But I digress.... This girl, who made me Mom, is precious and lovely. I've known her from her very first breath and, yet, there are times where I feel I hardly know...

Today is my dad's birthday.  He's been gone for a good number of years now, maybe 8; how I miss his gentle spirit. Once he got sober he became a friend. That took time as he had abandoned my mom while she still had 5 of her 6 still at home. It was something he regretted even on his deathbed. Today also marks 10 years since we all said good bye the our wonderful mother. I miss her terribly. I can still hear her voice, recall the feel of her skin, remember the baby soft white hair that had come back wavy after chemo. I can smell her house and bring up the sound of her Christmas tree (she liked the Hallmark ornaments that moved). I recall the comfort of her unconditional love....sanctuary. Does sanctuary exist anywhere else? I think it does when we grow to love ourselves like a parent, with forgiveness and empathy, patience and kindness. Today I am grateful for the two lovely, broken and flawed people that helped to make me what I am. I would love to spend an afternoon sit...

Memories I cherish. Middle and high school was not especially happy for me. We were dealing with the abandonment by our father, were fairly poor, had to leave the only home I had ever known and found ourselves a family of 3 that had once been 8. We did not have a driver until I turned 16 (my mom did not learned to drive until she was 52) and were at the mercy of family members to get us to wherever the bus would not. For quite awhile, my poor mother would take 3 buses to work at a fire restoration company. She would get a group of workers together, go to a home that had had a fire, then she and her team would pack the house from top to bottom. She basically moved every single day and then took 3 buses home again. Lordy my heart ached for her. She often came home, blackened with ash and soot, then head straight for the bathroom. Once she got settled in the tub, I would come and sit on the pot and we would chat; sometimes a lot and sometimes a little, depending on how tired she was....

I am #5 of 6 kids and I use the term "kids" loosely. My oldest sister is 63 and my younger brother is 51. We are a tight knit group except for one. My brother John, who is 55, has been the black sheep since day one. He has been in and out of our lives and when he is in, it is usually difficult or strained at best. Our mom instilled inside of each of us an intense loyalty. She never verbalized it but it is there just the same. All four of us girls are very close and we adore our "baby" brother. And even though we love him, John is another story.  He was the one that ran with the "bad" crowd in school. He was the one that my teachers would scowl about when they heard my last name on the first day of school. He and my mom were escorted by a police officer to sign him up for the military before he came of age....it was that or juvie. Thinned skinned and negative, he has lived with nearly every one of us for a period of time, here and there. Because...

Who will I be when the last one walks out the door? Who am I now? How will I act when I am no longer responsible for anybody, when no one looks up to me for guidance or support? I love being a mom. I loved being a mom of young children and of teenagers and of young adults.  But as the last one packs, will I change? I think I will. I've never got a chance to live footloose and fancy free. I started working full time when I was 16, met my husband when I was 17 got married at 22 and started a family. At first, that was challenging yet so rewarding. When we got a grasp on things there was a lovely rhythm. And despite the fact that I failed in some ways, I was good, quite good, in others. I tried hard to be a good mom. Financially I was and am rock solid. I don't believe in debt and am not into taking risks. For the most part I'm conservative in my personal values but believe that the freedoms that many men and women died to protect mean that others should NOT have to l...

The house continues to empty out into the garage. Belongings put into boxes...most going to storage for the next 4 or 5 weeks. I wonder.....do I really need these things if I can live without them for next month or so? Some yes, some no. I look forward to sorting these boxes out and doing a 2nd garage sale in less than 2 months. Lifting the weight of STUFF off of my shoulders. I watched a TED talk that talked about minimalism. I may try a modified version of it. Packing up your entire belongings and getting rid of everything you were not forced to unpack in the following 30 days. That's a bit extreme for me, as it doesn't account for the little treasures children bestowed upon their lucky recipients that jogs beautiful memories.  Or the last Christmas gift from Mom before she died...whether I liked it or not. Still too precious to give up....at least for now. I have a loved one that would be considered a hoarder by any account. Her "stuff" owns her. That's ...

I write things here I can't say out loud. Whether it's something not acceptable to society or to my peer group or whether it's the many constraints I bind myself with that prevent me from expressing myself to another person. The "for sale" sign goes up today. The house needs work, one car needs to be sold, paper work to read over, another place to live needs to be found, bills to be paid, people still count on me. Today I'm not strong. Today I ache with lonliness. Today I need my mom (imagine that at 51). Today I will go back to bed and know tomorrow will be better.