Honor Thy Mother

Hi Mom, It’s been six years since you passed away, and I still miss you every day. There are still so many times I think about calling you, when I have good news, or just have a slow moment in the day. I will never stop missing you, because it will never feel normal for you to be gone.

And thank you for my sign today. When I asked you to make it personal, and a sign that could only be from from you, you delivered. But I am not surpised, you were magic when you were here, of course you are even more so in the afterlife with God.

This is the first year where I am not completely gutted about today. Probably because I am so happy. You wouldn’t recognize my life now, or maybe you would. You know how much I wanted to leave GA, even when I tried to keep it from you. I know you would have encouraged me to go find where I want to be. Texas. Oh, and how you would love it here. You would love the people.

We live in such a wonderful home, in a great neighborhood we love as well. And you would LOVE him. He is everything I ever wanted and everything I never knew I needed. And he is so patient with me. He is teaching me Grace by example. I am beyond blessed to have him. I can just see you guys debating history, politics, scientic theories and books.

I can’t help but think that your brain just withered being out so far in the sticks with no one to really talk to, no one to challenge that ever so active and brilliantt mind of yours. I know why you moved out there, and I know you made a beautiful home, but I know you missed being busy and around people with whom you could truly relate. You were always reading and watching TV shows about political and business strategies.

It’s been a good day and I have tried to honor you by being happy and getting tbings done. You would think it’s so silly to sit amd be depressed or long faced about it. So I have listened to my favorite muaic all the way up, and sand as loud as I could. I danced around a bit in the house even. I ate one of you favorite meals, and enjoyed every bite, then had one of your favorite treats. I looked at pictures of you and thought of my favorite memories. And I remembered this day 6 years ago…

It was my honor to be there and hold your hand while you slipped from this world to touch the face of God as He held you in His hands. It was the most difficult and most beautiful moment, to be there with you, the woman who gave me life, as you took your last breathe. Thank you for that honor.

I took these pictures on July 13, 2015, and you died exactly 12 months to the day theynwwre taken. And I remember looking out at the horizen as the sun was setting in the distance, wondering if you would live another year. You held on as long as you could. You are like the sun, always there to greet me around the next corner, reaching out your arms in infinate love. Love radiated from you like light from the sun…

I love you always and will miss you forever. Say hello to Dad, and please visit me in my dreams. ❤

How the Wonder

As I read the church bulletin, looking at the letters that makes the words and create a sentence, I am extremely thankful that my parents, specifically my mother, instilled within me the value of reading. She would read to us as children, and then as we grew older she made is read out loud to her. And she taught us vocabulary beyond our grade level. Indeed as a 3rd grader I knew 6-8 syllable words, and how to properly use them and in what context.

She would make me read to her out loud as I moved around because I couldn’t sit still. She would never make me sit still as I read to her and she would hold the book for me as I squirmed and read. She would quiz me on vocabulary words that she taught me as well as my school words.

And she would stop and ask me what I liked about the story, and what I didn’t. She would ask me questions to make sure that I understood it. And then we would talk about whatever it is that I had read. She would ask me if I would change anything about it, and what would I change and how would I have the story end?

And I wonder if she had any idea that she was forming a young writer? 

Going Skydiving

We all have those moments that define us and who we are.  If we are lucky, we have many of those moments in our lives. We also have those things that we have always wanted to do, those things that are on our bucket list.

Next Friday, I mark one of those things off my bucket list.  I am going skydiving, on Friday July 13th.  And I figure it is the perfect day and date for the event. An early morning with a good breakfast, then a shoot two hour drive to Chattanooga.  We will go through training, get suited up and go up in the air.  It is a tandem jump, so I will not have to be the one to jump out of the place – which is good because I would probably freeze on my first jump.  Also, who wants a klutz jumping out of a plane?  Better leave that to the professional…and let me be tied to them.  That way if I do trip and fall, and take them with me, at least they know what to do.

The day is the 2nd anniversary of my Mother’s death.  And instead of moping and being sad, I choose to celebrate her and her adventurous spirit by jumping.  And I have a letter for her, that I will give her on the way down. The first Mother’s day I swam out to the ocean, and the the letter go in a big wave, for the sea to give to her. This year, she will find her letter in the clouds.  And it is a little defiant as well.  She forbid me to skydive while she was alive, so I waited.

And maybe in that adventure is where we will find ourselves. Because maybe we all get a little lost sometimes. And when we are lost we need something to help us remember what matters, what is sacred, what is true. When we are lost, we need to see things from high up, the big picture, to understand how to navigate and how to be unlost. Maybe from high up we can see all of our pieces and know where to go to find them and put ourselves back together.

I am going with this company, Chattanooga Skydiving, Friday July 13th at 11am central time (12 noon ET). If you are reading this come on out and jump with us. The more the merrier. It will be fun, it will be trilling, it will be a moment to remember. A way to celebrate life, love and adventure.

And if skydiving is not your thing, have an adventure somehow.  Do something that scares you, excites you, makes year heart beat faster and makes you remember that you are alive. Have a life that is well lived. Life is what we make it, so make it an adventure, make it good and make it happy, my friends.

A Walk with Mom: Day 5

Saturday July 2, 2016

The second full day of taking are of Mom.  I was getting tired as I hadn’t slept much, but Mom had been sleeping 20-22 hours a day.  she was only up a few times to drink her protein drinks.

I continued to wake her up for meals and checking her vitals. I would check on her every hour during the night to make sure she was breathing.  I noticed a pattern – deep sighs in her breathing, sometimes shallow and quick, sometimes far apart. I understood what that meant, along with vitals that continued to measure up and down. Her blood pressure and heart rate where the most volatile.  Wide swings that scared me, but just within the safe range, except for that last reading that I took.

I researched and read everything I could find on severe malnutrition, the effects on the body, and anything that might help me figure out what to do.

In between taking care of Dad and checking in on Mom, I cleaned the house. I did the dishes, mopped the floor, vacuumed, dusted, fed the cat, did laundry, folded clothes.  Anything to keep busy and also help them.. Mom had been so sick that not much housework could be done.  And Dad, tried to do what he could but was never great at house cleaning.

 

A Walk with Mom: Day 4

Friday July 1, 2016

This was the first full day of taking care of Mom at home.  She slept all day, would wake up only for about 30 minutes at a time, drink her liquid protein that I was desperately trying to get into her body, and go right back to sleep.  She was so weak that she needed help to sit up.  She was sleeping too much, I thought, and not getting stronger, but seemed instead to be getting weaker.  But I would wait to see how she was doing the next day before making judgement.

That day I talked to Dad about her regular doctor and was shocked to hear that he had said that there was nothing wrong with Mom other than her artery being blocked.  “She just needed to eat more,” Dad said they were told. When I said that I was going into town, they made me promise that I would not say anything to their doctor.  I promised but had my fingers crossed.  There was too much anger at that man to keep that promise that day.

As I rode the 30 minutes into town, I could feel my blood boiling at the same time my heart was breaking. I arrived at his office and requested to see him.  In about 20 minutes the receptionist led me to his office. His desk was covered with files and no computers in were in the office at all.  They had not upgraded to that level of technology yet. Everything was still kept up and written by hand. A country doctor like that might sound charming, but it’s downright scary when it’s your parent they are taking care of.

I sat down and asked him point blank:

Please tell me, how a woman in this day and age, who lives in this country and who has a regular doctor is allowed to get down to 75lbs without her doctor noticing that there is something wrong?  Please explain that to me because it sounds an awful like medical negligence.

This man was well into his upper 50’s, maybe early 60’s and I do not usually speak that way to my elders.  But the anger swelled inside me to the point where I needed an answer.  He needed to know that there were people who loved this woman who do not find it acceptable that she was allowed you get to this point.  Aren’t medical doctors supposed to help people stay healthy?  Aren’t they supposed to find out what was wrong with the patient, not just ignore the symptoms?

As expected, he was a bit defensive.  He told me that he was a great doctor, had been practicing for over 35 years, and cared for his patients. He also told me that my mother’s weight issue and malnutrition was due to the fact that her cancer was back and she was drinking wine instead of eating.

I informed him that he had done every test on her and nothing showed that the cancer was back, and she drank because of her excruciating back pain that he refused to fix. I didn’t say anything else after that, even though he responded, because it was clear that he had done the best he could and that arguing any further would do nothing constructive.  I made that observation after he admitted he did not know how to Google her symptoms because he did not have a computer.

I stopped by the drug store on my way back to get a more high protein items.  A voice inside my head told me not to buy a lot because she would not be around to eat them.  The thought ran through my head lightning fast and I immediately chastised myself as I choked down tears.

I spent the rest of the day taking care of Mom, taking her vitals, making her drinks of protein, and cooking for Dad. And praying.

I remember calling my then boyfriend and crying to him…I don’t think I can do this, I don’t think I am ready for this, I can’t do this alone.  How do I do this?  I am so scared I am terrified, I am exhausted. I don’t know what I am doing, I am not a doctor. What if I do something wrong?  What if I miss something?  What if I do too much or too little?  This is so extreme, it is literally life or death, how do I do this? He would listen and calmly reassure me.  He would tell me that I was strong and could do whatever needed to be done.

His voice brought me so much comfort.  I was madly in love with him and loved him even more for being so supportive.  I could call or text him anytime, he would be there. And it was OK that I was completely freaking out.  He was here for me. He would be my rock.

I also called the man that I had lived with in New York. He had been in the family for over 20 years, so he needed to know the situation.  It had been 11 years since our relationship ended, and we had a loose friendship.  We also always understood how much each loved the other’s family.  He loved Mom very much and would want to know that she was this sick.

As soon as he answered the phone and asked how I was, I broke down and started crying.  I could barely speak.  This was the first time that I had told anyone how bad it was. I knew I would have to call my sister, and I figured this would be good practice.  Yet I could not speak.  I could not get any words out.  I would open my mouth and try, but all that would come out were sobs and squeaks.

I finally was able to get myself together and I unloaded on him, all of it. How Mom and been wasting away for years, how I tried to warn her and everyone what Anorexia does to the body, how it slowly kills you if you do not get any help, how Mom did have a problem.  How that was why she had sores in her mouth, why her hair had gotten so thin, why her voice was so horse, why she had lesions on her cornea (lack of Vitamin A), how that is why she was so weak and had no stamina anymore, how that is what was happening to her memory and motor function.  How that is why her skin was so dry and flaky and why there were sores coming up on her face sometimes.  No one would listen, they all thought I was being dramatic, but here it was staring me in the face and  I had no idea what to do.

I was talking fast and had started sobbing again, and had to repeat several things over because he could not understand.  He talked to me for a long time.  He had known me for 30 years, and when he said if anyone could handle this it was me, I felt like he meant it, even tough I myself did not believe him.  I was falling apart. I was terrified. I did feel better when we got off the phone, thanks to his reassurances.  Someone who knows you for that long knows the things to say because they know you. They know who you are deep down.

My sister called the house a short time later, and I told her what was going on. She seemed calm and rational, and didn’t really think that it was all that urgent.  After all, Mom had been sick for years.  She would come down in the next few weeks to check on her and help out.  I tried to tell her there may not be that much time left.

Some neighbors stopped by that day as well. They were very concerned about Mom as she tried to speak to them but could not hold much of a conversation.  She tried to say that she was fine, but they could tell better.  They didn’t stay long, just long enough to say hello and make sure that everything was OK.  I walked them out and I could see the knowing in their eyes.  I told them that Mom was not doing well, and that I did not think much time was left, but to please, please pray for a recovery.  They told me had they had been concerned about Mom’s health for about 2 years and had been watching over them as much as they could.  I remember thinking that I wish I had known.

 

 

 

A Walk with Mom: Day 3

Thursday June 30th, 2016

This was the day that Mom was released from the hospital.  They checked on her early in the morning as the doctor made his rounds.  He said they would release her that afternoon.  I was praying that they would continue to keep her so that maybe she would have a chance to get better.

I talked with the doctor and asked about Mom’s nutritional status.  I asked them to explain to Mom what would happen if she continued to not eat. They said she would not heal, her health would continue to go down hill and she would die.  I was adamant about her listening it the doctor, because I still thought that it was her choice to refuse to eat, that it was her fault.  I found out later that it was not.  I asked them to prescribe an appetite stimulant to help her get back into the habit if eating.  And they did.

I listened closely and took notes for her aftercare.  What to expect, what to have her do, what to watch out for and when to call a doctor.  And off we went to go home.  I remember them telling her that she would have to consume large amounts of protein in order to heal and survive because she was so malnourished. She would need protein shakes every few hours. And a product called Rejuven that is for recovery in tough nutritional medical situations.

I remember getting her settled in at home. She was so tired that she just wanted to sleep on the couch and recover. While she was asleep I went to get her prescriptions filled, and went to several drug stores to gather Rejuven, and all the protein shakes, powders and bars that I could find, which was not easy.  First they lived in an extremely small town.  Second Mom hated anything sweet.  So it could not be chocolate, could not be peanut butter, could not be vanilla, strawberry or any other pleasant tasting thing.  And it could not be too thick or grainy (all her requirements for her to consume the products).

Do you know how hard it is to find flavorless, high protein products?  Everything that had adequate protein, calories and nutrients had some kind of sweet flavor.  So I tried to get what seemed would be the lessor of all evils.

I brought all of it home and as instructed I fed her every few hours when she would wake up, or when i could wake her up.  And she truly tried the best she could.  She understood that she had to do this in order to live, so she choked down the disgusting drinks I made for her, already high in protein, made higher still by the extra powders and potions added to them.  Sometimes it was Enliven with extra protein powder.  Sometimes it was Rejuven with extra supplements.  She would drink them, smoke a cigarette and go back to sleep.

I would keep track of her vitals and take her temperature, blood pressure, pulse and check her MAP.  They were all over the place, up and down.  I started researching what that meant, then I started researching what happens and what to expect when death is near so I knew the signs. They would not come that day.

I told her I loved her every time she was awake, and I would try to talk about good things and wonderful memories.  I tried to get her to talk, but most of the time she was just too tired.

I would take care of Dad too, making sure he ate and had what he needed.  I would make the coffee, sit outside with him on the porch.  Fix dinner for him.  I would hug him and try to tell him it was going to be OK, even though I wasn’t sure of that either.  But I didn’t have the heart…I wasn’t brave enough to say that of which I was afraid.  It was as if I said it out loud, it would become real.  But somehow if I could convince Dad, or at least make him feel better, I could do the same for myself.

And I prayed.  And I cried.  And I prayed more. I prayed for Mom, I prayed for mercy. I prayed for wisdom, strength and courage.  I was lost and had no idea what I was doing, or if I was doing it right.  I had no idea if I was making good decisions, so I just prayed.

The First Mother’s Day: Watching Over Me

We all have those times were we just need to get away, step outside of our little worlds, take a break and see things from a different perspective.  That was this weekend for me.  The grief counselors told me that Mother’s Day would be a trigger. It would be an emotional day, so plan for it and do something meaningful.  And indeed it was.  Oddly enough, I loved seeing the all the posts and pictures of everyone with their Mother’s.  It made me grateful that I had mine for 43 years. It was reassuring and made me feel good that the world had not stopped just because my mother was gone. But I still did miss her deeply.

The plan was to go to the beach, relax, have a good time, eat, drink and be as merry as possible, while remembering and honoring my mother.  As it turned out, she had a gift for me too. As I sat in a restaurant Friday night, I saw an older lady facing me in the next booth over.  We caught each other’s eyes and connected, looking at each other smiling for several seconds, maybe 15-20 or more.  This happened several times during dinner.  We could not stop or keep our eyes off each other when this happened.  And I thought her eyes and smile look just like my mother’s.

When she and her family got up to leave, I had to go over and just tell her that she reminded me so much of my mother who had passed away last year, and that is why I kept looking at her and smiling. That my mother was my best friend. I said thank you so much and wished her a happy Mother’s Day. She just smiled and took my hands.  Her family said she was 92 and she shook her head yes.  And smiled at me again. Then she looked at me and said she loved me and gave me the most wonderful hug.  And for a moment, I had my mother back, I had my last hug and I love you with her.  For a moment, my mother was there with me.  And it was wonderful.

That lady and her family will never know how wonderful that moment was, how much it meant, or what a gift it was to me. But my Mother knows.  I think that was her gift to me. Yes, she is still looking after me. But then she always did.  I remember in 2013, after my last court date concerning the attack.  I had to face the man who attacked me in court.  And at the end of the day I was emotionally distraught and exhausted.  When I get like that, my body temperature drops and I cannot get warm.  That night, she turned the heat up as high as it would go, wrapped me up in blankets and stayed up all night watching over me in the hotel room to make sure that I slept and did not have nightmares.  She didn’t sleep at all, just watching over me, like only a mother could.

On Mother’s Day, I sat on the beach in the sun for a long time.  It was a bit crowded with families and young people enjoying the mild weather and sunshine. And when it was time, I took the envelope with the cards and letter to my amazing mother, walked to the water and started swimming out to were the water was deeper.  And as I swam, the water was cool and washed over me, caressing my heart as I made my way out deeper with the envelope.  It started to come apart as I swam, my mother anxious to read what was written inside.  And when a big wave came towards me, I let it go, for the waves to carry to her so she could open and read it.  I watched the envelope as it disappeared into the water. And I whispered that I loved her now and always.

It was a beautiful moment, soft and gentle, in the ocean, with people swimming and splashing around.  A private moment between mother and daughter, only seen by God. It was perfect. And as I eventually swam back to the shore, I heard her whisper to me in the wind, a message only for me.

Today is her birthday, she would have been 76.  I miss her so much, but I also feel her love around me, watching over me now just like she did in that hotel room four years before.

The Service and a Pillow

I have long known that a funeral or memorial service is more for those who are left than for the person who is gone.  A good funeral is the last thing we can really do for our loved one. It is the last send off, the last honor, the last “right” thing that is left.

And so it was with my father’s memorial service this past weekend.  The church service was beautiful, an Easter service of celebration. He passed away on Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, one of his most cherished religious seasons. Dad respected Lent as a time of quiet introspection. And he had made peace with his situation, so it is fitting that this Lenten season is about grief and grieving.  Forty days to reflect on the past 7-8 months. It is as if he knew. And maybe he did.

At the service there was the family including all of my siblings.  It was truly wonderful to have us all together along with aunts and cousins. My three longest and best friends were there for me, sitting behind me to give me strength, catch me if I fell or make funny faces at me if it looked like I couldn’t make it through the service.  They are the reason I could breath.

And when the service was close to and end, the Honor Guard came, played Taps and presented my father’s flag to me.  If you have never seen that presentation, it is beautiful.  They march out, at attention, then Taps is played.  When that is done, they slowly, silently, purposefully, unfold and refold the flag.  Every movement is crisp and marked by a click of their heels. And when the flag is folded, and they give the proper respect to it, they march, at attention, and kneel down to the next of kin. They say thank you, on behalf of the President of the United States, and of the country and of the Air force (or whichever branch).  I sobbed. I  gently accepted his flag as tears ran down my cheeks.  And my tears fell on my fathers flag before I could get a tissue. That flag is sacred to me.

And then the celebration of life, and the stories and the beer and the food.  I heard the food was delicious and what little bit I ate definitely was.  I spoke, as well as several other friends and family members. And I learned a few things about this humble, quiet man I called Dad.  There was laughter, there were a few tears and there were a lot of hugs and much love.

The siblings got together afterward, along with  my Angels, and we had a great time talking and taking time to decompress after the last several days.  And there was a lot of wine.

And then there was quiet.  And there is still quiet. A silence that is a bit uncomfortable as the finality of the situation sets in.  They are really gone.  And life moves forward. But what life is this that lay before me?  For the first time in 8 years I am taking care of only me.  And I am not sure I know what to do with myself.  One part is very liberating – knowing that you have done right by your parents and loved ones. And another part is terrifying, not remembering what you did before.

It is the blue after the storm. That time after the service, after the commotion, after the shock, after the after…where things are quiet and you are left to figure out the “new normal.” No doubt I will be fine, as everyone goes through this at some point in their life. But it is unsettling and strange.  A person is still delicate in this time.

There was no quiet after Mom passed; it went straight into Dad moving in and me taking care of an elderly parent. It was chaos for 7.5 months. So this in new. And if I am honest, it is a bit scary. The empty nest…but I am sure I will find my way, awkwardly as always. But eventually I’ll get the hang of this thing called life. The fact of the matter is that they are gone. I am here.  Life is here.

In the meantime, as I learn to sleep alone in the house, I am wrapped up in the peace and knowledge that I did right by the Bible and honored my parents. When they are gone, having done right by your parents is the most comfortable pillow in the world.

Six Months

Six months.  That is not a long time in the grand scheme of things, yet a is a lifetime of heartache, tears, reflection, struggle, confusion, anger, loss, grief…I felt each heartbeat of you not being with me in the lifetime of six months.  I still cannot fathom that much time without you.

But there has also been joy. First little glimpses, then moments, a little longer sometimes, and maybe even a day here and there.

And now I can finally say I think I am getting the hang of this life without you. And that makes me sad in a way.  Because I never want to be used to life without you, my mother, my best friend.  But I have to. It has been six months and I have to get it together.

I feel you though, everywhere. And that helps.  But I still miss you more than I thought possible.  On those days when I don’t feel you close, I just whisper to you that I need a sign…and then there it is.  And I feel your arms around me.

I love and miss you exponentially. I think you would be proud of me, of the past 6 months, even though it has been hard.  You raised me strong and to survive no matter what.  And that means without you.  More than anything, I know that is what you want.

I know you have things to do where you are.  You always stayed busy, helping others, so why would you stop now?  Somewhere along the way, I am sure you have found a need to give of yourself and help another.  We will be Ok here.  Do what you need to do. Just visit and show me you are still around. And know that there is so much love here for you, always.

I carry your heart with me.  I carry it in my heart.

This Thanksgiving

Change. It is a fact of life. Everyone, at some point, must accept it, learn to deal with it, adapt to it.  But that can very so very hard.

Usually I write about everything I am thankful for in the Month of November – a new list every day.  This Thanksgiving that seems too strange. I do look around and acknowledge the many blessings.  But I am not sure how to act really.  I am very thankful Dad is still here, thankful for my wonderful boyfriend, the fact that we have been blessed to have such a wonderful home and are building a life of love. That I have such wonderful friends who are there for me and love me, that I have a job I love at a great company.

And that I had 42 wonderful Thanksgivings with my mother.  That I was there in her last moments. And for all the wonderful talks and whispers and moments we shared, mother and daughter.  When she looked at me in the hospital and said “I know you truly love me.”  When she smiled and said “I know what that means.”  When I read the letter and notes she wrote labeled “Don’t open unless I am dead”…and how truly funny they were.  Thankful for the way she always knew just what to say, and when to say it, to make me smile and feel better.  Thankful for the taco soup and fresh cut corn that she froze, just for us, knowing she was going to pass. Still taking care of us, even now.

This Thanksgiving will be very different from the ones in the past.  Every Thanksgiving has been at my parent’s place.  Even when I lived far away, the trip would be made to make sure I was there with the rest of the family.  There was always so much food because Mom loved cooking for all of us.  The exception was last year when I begged to have the holiday feast at my place.  Mom and Dad reluctantly agreed and made the trip up to the big city.  It would turn out to be the last with my Mom.  My sister and her three boys were there too.  I treasure those memories.

This is the first year in my life that Mom will not be here for Thanksgiving, or Christmas.  This change is not welcome, but it is as it is and so I must adapt.  Thanksgiving is coming whether Mom is here or not.  And so this year we will spend Thanksgiving around M’s mother’s table. I am thankful for their generosity of taking us in. And no doubt there will be lots of love around that table. Truth be told Dad and I are at a bit of a loss this Thanksgiving…and holiday season in general.

But that is the thing about change – it opens up new opportunities. New ways of thinking about and doing things, and new possibilities.  This Thanksgiving may have a melancholy feel, but it can still be special.  This Thanksgiving is about love. And love is always a good thing.  Because love feeds the Human Spirit, fills in all of our cracks and makes us stronger.

Looking Up

There are times in everyone’s life where all we can do is look up.  In looking up there is faith and hope.  Sometimes, we have to put our heads down and work through whatever it is, go get through or to reach a goal.  And then we find ourselves looking up at the sun, or feeling the cleansing rain on our face.  Looking up means noticing all that is around, not only above. It is saying a prayer, giving thanks and taking a breath.

There is a conversation you never dreams of having with your loved one.  The “It’s ok if you are tired, you can let go” talk when a family member is too ill.  I had that conversation with my mother while she was under sedation and she could not really respond.  The nurse had given her the shot before I had a chance to have a real conversation, so this was the best I could do.  I know she could hear me, so I stroked her hair and gently told her that I know she had been in pain and was so very tired, so if she didn’t feel l like fighting, that it was Ok to let go.  She had our permission.

I sat at her bedside, looking down watching her while rested and reassured her that while I wanted her to be around forever, it was OK if she was too tired and I understood. And loved her more than words could ever say.  I told her about the prognosis – that her body was just too weak to fight the infection and recover.  The truth that if she did recover, it would take months of rehabilitation to get back to normal.  That Everyone would be OK, even though we would miss her more terribly and deeply that we could ever imagine.

I think it is one of the hardest conversations to have with a parent or any loved one.  Gut-wrenching and physically difficult, it is what you do when you love someone and want what is best for them. But it goes against every selfish desire you have, because you naturally want your loved ones with you for as long as possible. But not at the cost of their comfort and quality of life.  So you break your own heart and let go, letting them let go too.

After she passed, I said my final goodbye, taking her hand and telling her one more time that I loved her so very much. When I stood up to leave, the lights flickered softly three times. A gentle whisper of “I love you.”  And I looked up and knew it was her.

As we move forward without her here, there has been much to do.  Getting the old house ready for sale, cleaning, arranging, packing.  We go out to take breaks and sit on the back deck facing the water.  Feeling the breeze, watching the flowers dance. And I look up and see fireflies dancing and playing right in front of me.  And I know it is another gentle whisper.

And there is unpacking the van in our current home, taking Dad’s things out and putting them inside for him, making sure he has all he needs to keep him warm and feeling loved and not so alone.  Unloading 40 houseplants, finding a place for them, in the sun, or partial sun, or full shade so that they flourish as much as they can.  And I look up…and see a double rainbow after I asked for a sign. Another gentle whisper, this time captured on my phone.

After dad and I were down dealing with the coin collection, there was a penny at my door, the year of my birth. And I looked up, thankful for the whisper. Truth be told, there have been too many signs, signals and whispers to mention.  Every day, another whisper, just as I have asked moving forward. A wonderful reminder that she is around, looking over us.  I hope she is proud of me, when I look up at the sky, at her in the beautiful cloud formations.  I hope she likes the way I try to carry her legacy of love, warmth and laughter.  I hope she is patient with me learning how do balance everything she did so effortlessly and does not frown too harshly when my patience and Grace and running short. I hope we she is pleased as she looks down and we look up.

The fact is that moving on is not possible, because it insinuates that you close the door on that part of your life.  And that is simply not possible when missing a parent. You miss them always. But you can move forward, learning how to wade through and make new paths while still honoring and keeping the old ones.  And even the old paths will not ever be the same; but different isn’t always bad and change doesn’t have to be negative. You can build a beautiful life on the grounds and foundation of your parents.

And you never have to stop looking up.

My Name is Bobby Claus

There is a wonderful book out there that tells a poignant  story about a an orphan, three mischievous boys, angels, and a Christmas tragedy. But things aren’t always as they seem and there are no coincidences in life. The compelling story takes you on a journey of laughter, heartache, discovery, innocence and hope.

The author is my mother, Genny Burch (yes, writing runs int he family) and My Name is Bobby Claus is her first book.

You can find Genny’s book on Amazon as well as other online retailers. Check out her website My Name is Bobby Claus for more information and how to order.

And please spread the word!

Shameless Promotion

Writing runs in my family and I am going to do a bit of shameless promotion. My mother wrote a children’s book in 2009 called My Name is Bobby Claus. It is a wonderful story of God, Faith and how sometimes He uses unlikely angels to change lives.

We are a strong Christian family and my mother was looking for a great way to explain how Jesus died and was brought back to life. What evolved was actually a wonderful Christmas story that will make you laugh and cry. It is  truly more than a childrens book, it is a story people seem to just fall in love with, from ages 4 to 88.

My mother had been telling this story to the boys for years, and we begged her publish it. After she survived stage 4+ Ovarian caner (by the Grace and Miracle of God), she finally did. A labor of Love.

My Name is Bobby Claus

I am not only so proud of her for this wonderful story, but proud of the person she is, proud of the Christian values she taught me, leading by example. Both my parents lead by example when teaching their children about honesty, integrity, character, morals, how two people in love should treat each other.