Dear Mom,
Two years now you've been gone. Two years and I feel like I've come around the world a few times. I'm still harder-hearted than I probably want to be about it. Still sore. But I'm starting to do better. I'm not immediately known as "The Girl With a Dead Mom" at work or even in my public life. But people notice when important dates come around because I tend to get angry still. I get short and annoyed and snappy. And then they ask. And then feel bad.
Dad and I talked on the day that we two recognize, and we said it was a good thing for us to have to share together. We were glad to be with you in your last hours, talking to you and trying to make you comfortable. I haven't forgotten walking David to his car and hugging him tight, and then walking back to the hospital room clutching at Dad's hand, and saying that since you were fighting that we might need to give you permission. And we bawled. I still cry. Not every day, but every few weeks.
I've started doing better with General Cancer stuff. Like when somebody I know's parent/sibling/relative is doing well, I'm not entirely jealous/angry/hurtful. I'm mostly happy. But then I think that so many people get Cancer and live; you got Cancer and died. Breaks my heart everyday. But it's getting better. I don't beat myself up anymore. People haven't really bothered me too much recently.
I'm 27 now, too. Two years ago the Aunts threw me birthday party. Seeing as we buried you two days before my birthday, they wanted me to have a good day. It was sweet and thoughtful. And it was mournful too, because all we wanted was for you to be there. Thankfully they didn't make us eat the leftover coldcut sandwiches that were leftover from your funeral.
Life is going well here. I love you. Things are OK. I am OK. Dad and David and Tim are OK. You're so loved.
I love you, forever and always.
Love,
Christy
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Thursday, January 12, 2012
13
Dear Mom,
I had a nightmare the other night. I awoke breathless and scared. Heartrate skyrocketing. I dreamt of the night of your death. Of watching you die. Again and again and again. I was fighting, fighting with the doctors and even with your body a little, trying to get it to not die again. Not that that is your fault. Not that you had any control over the cancer as it raged inside of you.
I miss you all the time still, and I have been trying to make a point of wearing all the jewelry I inherited from you. I don't do as well as I should, most days, but there are two pieces I wear all the time, and they mean a lot to me. The first is your 25th Anniversary band, and that is on my little finger. Five little diamonds, representing 25 years, of love, faith, happiness... I cherish this ring greatly. It is the first piece of your jewelry I wore on a constant basis. The next is your golden Celtic cross necklace, which everyone and their mothers seem to comment on. They want to know where I got it, if I'm Irish, and that opens the door to say "It was my mom's." Some get the grammar of that sentence, some don't. Most leave it at that. I've only had one comment on a cancer awareness rubber bracelet I wear. The man asked what it said ("Hope" "Faith" "Courage" and "Strength") , and wanted to know what kind of cancer it was. He harshly said "Well, a hysterectomy should just take care of That, now, shouldn't it?!" and when I responded with a "Well, she was Stage IV Metastasized when they DIAGNOSED her, so that wouldn't really have worked you know." He shut up after that.
I've heard from you once or twice in the last month. Most recently was at a women's conference in Fridley MN and for a minute it was as if you had said "This is where you need to be." and I knew it. People still don't really know me, which is weird because I tell them I'll put my whole self out there if only asked. Nobody believes me. Anyway.
Good things are being done down here, which you probably know about already. I've been knitting hats for donation to wherever there is a need. It's already had a HUGE impact on a few worlds nearby. I have never been happier.
I love you, forever and always.
Love,
Christy
I had a nightmare the other night. I awoke breathless and scared. Heartrate skyrocketing. I dreamt of the night of your death. Of watching you die. Again and again and again. I was fighting, fighting with the doctors and even with your body a little, trying to get it to not die again. Not that that is your fault. Not that you had any control over the cancer as it raged inside of you.
I miss you all the time still, and I have been trying to make a point of wearing all the jewelry I inherited from you. I don't do as well as I should, most days, but there are two pieces I wear all the time, and they mean a lot to me. The first is your 25th Anniversary band, and that is on my little finger. Five little diamonds, representing 25 years, of love, faith, happiness... I cherish this ring greatly. It is the first piece of your jewelry I wore on a constant basis. The next is your golden Celtic cross necklace, which everyone and their mothers seem to comment on. They want to know where I got it, if I'm Irish, and that opens the door to say "It was my mom's." Some get the grammar of that sentence, some don't. Most leave it at that. I've only had one comment on a cancer awareness rubber bracelet I wear. The man asked what it said ("Hope" "Faith" "Courage" and "Strength") , and wanted to know what kind of cancer it was. He harshly said "Well, a hysterectomy should just take care of That, now, shouldn't it?!" and when I responded with a "Well, she was Stage IV Metastasized when they DIAGNOSED her, so that wouldn't really have worked you know." He shut up after that.
I've heard from you once or twice in the last month. Most recently was at a women's conference in Fridley MN and for a minute it was as if you had said "This is where you need to be." and I knew it. People still don't really know me, which is weird because I tell them I'll put my whole self out there if only asked. Nobody believes me. Anyway.
Good things are being done down here, which you probably know about already. I've been knitting hats for donation to wherever there is a need. It's already had a HUGE impact on a few worlds nearby. I have never been happier.
I love you, forever and always.
Love,
Christy
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