Let The Bucket List Trip Begin

Week 35

Today I will be brief. I am loading the car to head to my mom's. Our adventure begins tomorrow. We have specific destinations but no real itinerary. We have specific wishes with lots of wiggle room in between. We have a true desire to spend this time together. I will try to keep a diary while I am gone. Maybe, I will share it here. Who knows? But for now, I'm outta here!

Mother's Day 2013

Week 19


How to describe American commercialism in three easy lessons: Valentine’s Day covers February then a lull in the retail-after-Christmas-before-tax returns-slump. Next comes Mother’s Day in May and then Father’s Day for June.

I have always felt like we should tell those who mean the most to us that we love them all the time. That we shouldn’t wait for “holidays” to tell us to tell them how we feel. Valentine's Day is a crock of junk and I have never REALLY known a father so, you are really what comes to my mind when thinking of this particular trilogy.

Here I sit, subject to the calendar… a prisoner of timelines… ever waiting for the latest test results, ever waiting for a new prognosis. I am guilted, by society, into telling you that I love you, on this the magical day, somebody in the retail world invented.

I DO love you. I always have. You are my mother. You are the woman who loved me before I was born. You are the woman who carried me for nine long months, who gave me life. You are the woman who cried for me when the world seemed darkest for me. You are the woman who has always felt my pain, and too frequently, tried to absorb it, to lessen that which I would have to endure. You are one of the greatest gifts that life has given me because I have never doubted your love for me.

Mama, I have always known you tried your very best to be the best mother you could be. I know that you have always wanted what was best for me. I have ALWAYS known you love me. And I have always known I had a friend in you. What you have termed as pushing you and others away, is truly a matter of self-preservation from birth. I never meant to offend. In fact, I have only sought to spread peace and love wherever my path has crossed. But in every moment, I have known that if I needed you, you would have my back.

I love you, Mama. I want you to know that I see everyday with you in my life as Mother's Day!

Sorting Through Memories

Week 15

I find the tasks I am currently working on at home quite daunting. It is so difficult to sort through the remains of another person’s life. It feels like you are invading their privacy as you look at their photographs, read through cards and letters, and sift through keepsakes mostly from places you may have never heard of and certainly have never been.

Sometimes I feel like I’m throwing away too much. At others, it feels like I need to throw away more. I don’t know why it bothers me so much. I just know that it does, even though it certainly doesn’t seem to bother anyone else in the family. I have asked and asked everyone to tell me what they want from the house with very little response from any of them. Left to do it on my own seems to make it more difficult to decide what goes with us and what is disposed of.

I have come to the conclusion that the majority will go to be sorted and dealt with after we are gone from here. I catch myself pausing in my tasks to let the memories of them wash over me; Mom and Dad… my in-laws… my friends. When I’m in a place where I’m not so distracted with my own memories, maybe I’ll find it easier to let go.
But for now, I have memories to sort through, boxes to pack and a house to get ready to leave behind. You never know what tomorrow will bring.

It's All About My Mama

Week 12

I am not an envious person by nature. I have to admit though I have recently realized that somewhere way down deep inside me, I have always envied the close relationship my mother and sister have shared over the years. My mom was a single travel agent and very social. Because of her job, she was able to travel around the world. My little sister got to travel with her some. I worked full-time and went to school full-time, so travel and play weren’t things I had time for. I was booked to go on a cruise with them once but it just so happened I was scheduled to take my ACT’s the same week. College vs. a fabulous trip… no contest in my mind, college won hands down. If I had only known what the following year would bring, I think I would have taken the trip!

I married young, as soon as I turned 18. I never finished college because it turned out there wasn’t enough money for anything past my first year. Instead, I became a mother and focused all my energy on raising children… and being a wife. Being a caregiver is what I do. It is as natural to me as breathing. It can be as detrimental as poison if you let it.

Up until then, I had spent my teen years trying to take care of my mom and my sister. My mom says I was busy raising both of them. It’s not far off the mark. To be honest, I was trying to raise myself, too. At the age of 16, I paid 1/3 of the household bills, went to school and worked. Mama kind of lost herself for a few years (that is a story of its own and for another time) so I did my best to take care of them both. Mama and I weren’t friends and we weren’t exactly mother and daughter either at this point.

As time marched on, we moved our little family farther and farther away from family and friends, always in pursuit of better paying jobs for my husband. From my perspective, the farther we moved away the closer my mother and sister seemed to get. Don’t get me wrong, I am glad they were because it allowed me to worry about both of them less. But deep in my heart, a part of me always wished that my mother and I were close, too.

Fast forward 25 years or so: My mother moved home to take care of her aging mother. My husband and I moved in with his parents so I could take care of them. Finally, my mom and I had a common bond, common experiences, and a host of common frustrations. When I left home at 18, I could have never in my wildest dreams have thought that this would be the catalyst for a better relationship with my mom, but it was.

I began rearranging my schedule so I could spend more time with both my mom and my grandmother. Making the trip as regularly as I could (at least twice a month) to give my mom a break, I found myself getting a much needed break from the deteriorating situation at home.

I discovered a friendship developing that I could have never imagined. I was always very close to my grandmother. Now, I became closer to my mother. Our relationship grew and developed all by itself. I embraced the changes. For the first time in my life, my mother and I had something in common. We began to get to know each other better and found that we each admired the other. For the first time, we became friends.

Last year was an emotionally draining year. Each new season brought about another major change. Spring brought the passing of my most adored maternal grandmother. Summer brought with it my mother’s diagnosis of inoperable, incurable lung cancer. Fall brought the passing of Dad as he finally lost his decade-long battle with Alzheimer’s. Winter brought the death of my most despised paternal grandmother. Two days after my father-in-law died, my mother took a fall and ended up with a compression fracture in a couple of her vertebrae.

It rapidly became obvious that Mama needed someone there with her, someone to help her, someone to take care of her. The next thing I knew, I was back home in Ms. taking care of Mama. I arranged and rearranged until I could work out being with her 4 nights a week. Right now in my life, it is where I need to be, standing beside her and lightening her load.

I never could have imagined being as close to Mama as I have become. I couldn't have imagined that she and I could discuss our past relationship as openly and as honestly as we do. Every day with her teaches me something new. I am evolving, growing, gaining new perspectives. I am no longer envious of my sister. Many, many hurts have been healed.

My mother is courageous beyond belief. She exudes a positive attitude. She is one of the strongest people I have ever met. She is a steel magnolia, soft and lovely on the outside but solid steel on the inside. She is bold and adventurous. She is outrageous and playful. She is outspoken and determined. She is one of my very best friends. But most importantly, she is the mother I always wished for and often prayed for. I can only hope to always make her proud to call me daughter.

We Are All in Essence Dying

Week 9

“Why do we wait to be diagnosed with a terminal illness to feel a sense of urgency about living? The fact of the matter is from the instant we take our first breath, we are in essence dying. Why can’t we live our lives to the fullest without a dire prediction?” -This is what I started to write on Saturday night. Today’s date loomed large as it is the anniversary of my beloved grandmother’s death. This led me to some serious thoughts on the subject of death, which ultimately led me to some serious thoughts on the subject of life. I went to bed with a vortex spinning in my head on the weightiest of subjects… the complexities of life, death, and life-after-death. I do not recommend this as a method to induce productive sleep.

In April of 2010, my 88 year old mother-in-law was put on a ventilator. As her medical power-of-attorney, I had to make a decision as to when we should remove it. I waited a week to allow time for the family to come say their goodbyes. Nobody came. My husband helped to care for his father so I could remain by her side. I treasure the last 48 hours in a way that no one could ever understand… unless they have been in those shoes with someone they have deeply loved.

In November of 2010, I lost the sister-in-law I cherished. We talked on the phone the day before. We talked on the phone almost every day for 10 years! We were in the middle of a conversation, discussing what the four grandkids that lived with me would be wearing for Halloween, when I arrived at the grocery store. I asked if I could call her the next afternoon. She said yes. She died the next morning. It still bothers me that our last goodbye was more of a “to be continued” that can never be continued; that there were things left unsaid between us.

In February of 2012, I rushed home to Mississippi because my youngest granddaughter was born two months early. Fraught with worry, I watched that tiny little girl struggle to grow stronger, struggle to survive. I left the NICU and went to my grandmother’s house. At 92, I knew she had already begun to give up on life. As I stood by her side telling her about the tiniest new member of our family, she grasped my hand. Her eyes cleared for a moment as I showed her the photo I had taken for her of her great granddaughter. She squeezed my hand weakly and said to me, “I just want to go home, Baby.” The following morning it became apparent it was her time to go. I was blessed to be by her side until she passed away peacefully as dawn broke on March 3rd.

In October of 2012 Dad lost his battle with Alzheimer’s. Once again, I was destined to be there as another soul I loved left its body. At the age of 90, it was his time and he was more than ready for it. How different it is when a person has lived a long, full life and is called home!

In August of 2012 my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. Words like “terminal”, “inoperable”, “stage 3b”, “less than 3 months” began to swirl through my life like a hurricane hitting the beach. Mama, however, took it in her normal headlong stride. She refuses to give up. Here it is, March 2013 and technically, she has beaten all of the doctor’s predictions. Her bucket list continues to grow and her attitude against her disease does, too. She is one of the bravest people I’ve ever known and I am proud that she’s my mother.

More Than Words

Week 5


The winds of change are blowing with gale force in my life. I feel as if I’m outdoors in the middle of a Category 5 hurricane trying to stay on my feet, with no lifeline in sight. Today I shouted three words I try to never string together, “FML”! I didn’t use the acronym, but the actual words. I threw my hands in the air as I began to cry. I let my tears fall freely in an effort to wash away the overwhelming hurt I felt.

Ever optimistic, ever hopeful, I am doomed to forever be reminded that you can’t wear rose-colored glasses and survive in today’s world. I wish sometimes I were someone, anyone, other than who I am. If I were someone else maybe I wouldn’t love so deeply. Maybe, I wouldn’t hurt quite so much for others. Nor would I be able to be hurt so deeply by the words and actions of others. But, I am who I am and I don’t know how to be anyone else.

We all have different types of people in our lives. For instance, there are people in my life I can always count on to say and do negative, sometimes, painful things. There are a few people who manage to bring drama with them at every turn. There are the people who are a positive, loving influence. And people who give encouragement and strength just because they are who they are. When the lines between the two become blurred, it can be quite painful.

I am saddened to discover that words can inflict the kind of damage that was left in the wake of a conversation I had today. The words were common, ordinary words that cut a path of destruction straight through my heart. To be more accurate, it wasn’t the words themselves but the way in which they were used.

Having someone I love, and admire, question my morals and principles on a subject that has nothing to do with either of those things was disconcerting to say the least. Their barely-concealed, sugarcoated outrage and indignation is a bitter pill indeed. Never in a million years could I have predicted that this particular person would feel the way they obviously do. I tried to make them understand that discussing the subject at hand would get us nowhere. I have no answers to many of the questions that were asked repeatedly because the situation itself is, as yet, unresolved. I am certain that we both left the discussion feeling many of the same things though for vastly different reasons. Frustration, pain, disappointment, and disillusionment are not just words but very real feelings.

The things I’ve always felt we shared such as love, concern, compassion, and understanding were tossed carelessly aside as I was told exactly what was expected from me. I was left with the impression that if I didn’t comply, the consequences would be dire in regard to our future relationship. It’s been a long time since I've felt as if my back was against a wall the way I did today. I freely admit it hurt more than I could have dreamed possible.

One of the words that came up repeatedly was "entitled". The definition of entitlement is “the guarantee of access to benefits because of rights” and a “belief that one is deserving of some particular reward or benefit.” If a person has a “sense of entitlement,” they believe they deserve certain things, if, for no other reason, than they exist. The only thing I believe I am "entitled" to is an entry to Heaven upon my death. Clearly, we see differently on this matter.

I can’t give answers when there are none to be given. I can’t allow words to have the power to inflict the kind of pain I felt earlier. I can’t look backward or forward because I am too dang busy dealing with today. The one thing I can do is to continue to have faith that all will work out as it’s supposed to in the grand scheme of things and that the answers to all the questions will be revealed in due time.