(43-359) My Story - Part 2

Let me start off by saying that I truly appreciate the heartfelt comments that I've been receiving in response to yesterday's post "My Story - Part 1".  Perhaps most bloggers wouldn't start chapter two of a story that way, but then again; I'm not most bloggers. 

If you read part 1 of my story, then I probably don't need to warn you that this is not a happy tale.  In fact, today's recollection is much more difficult for me to tell -  but I'm going to do it no matter how uncomfortable it is; because I want to leave a written record of what my life was like and how I got to be who I am now...

I did not speak to my mother at my father's funeral.  I didn't know what to say, and at the time I still believed all of the horrible lies that my father had told me about her.  My father's girlfriend made arrangements for my boyfriend and I to spend a week with a friend of mine who lived in Maryland; and upon my return she told me that I had to meet with my mom because I was going to have to go back to live with her.  There were a lot of hurt feelings on both ends I know, but my mother welcomed me back with open arms; and slowly but surely I reciprocated.

We had my Sweet 16 as planned, and a few days later I was admitted to the hospital for Arthroscopic knee surgery; which also had been scheduled before my father had passed away.  School was set to start a few weeks after that, and I didn't want to go to the high school that was by my mom's house since I had been teased terribly throughout Jr, high.  Because my mom understood how important it was to me to remain at Tappan Zee,  she made arrangements with my Principal so that I could use a friend's address and continue going to school there.  As a result of my knee surgery, I had an enormous cast on my left leg, from my ankle to my thigh and  since TZ was a good twenty minutes from my house, my mom went out of her way to drive me to school every morning and she paid someone to drive me home.

I got on with my life, adjusting to not having a father and getting reacquainted with my mother.  Then one day I was called to the Principal's office.  I was informed that I had enough credits to graduate that spring; but since I was only sixteen and had just gone through a truly, traumatic experience, I didn't feel ready to leave my new home.  I opted to stay with my mom, who had been in remission from her Cancer and took classes for college credit during my senior year.  My house became the party house, and all of my friends loved spending time with my mom. She was different.  She was honest with us, and she was fun, and funny and I had far too little time with her.

After being weight listed for my school of choice, my mom and I took a last minute trip to visit two of the Long Island University campuses.  Ultimately she and I agreed that Southampton was the right place for me; but imagine my surprise when on the first day of school, every other person I met was a marine biology major and I was there for Pre-law.  I thought there must have been some mistake.  I mean science was definitely not my forte and pardon the pun, but I felt like a real fish outta water.  I came to be assured that there were other majors at LIU-Southampton; it was just that most people did go there for Marine bio.  Most people, like my suite mate Michele Q.

During our getting to know you exercises Michele Q and I discovered that we had the same birthday.  And at the time, other than our birthdays and our residence, I thought that was all that we had in common.  It wasn't that I didn't like Michele Q; in retrospect, maybe I was just jealous.  She was vivacious, and confident and she walked around singing (beautifully) at the top of her lungs, and maybe just maybe I felt a little threatened by her. 

My mom came out for parents weekend, and she looked great.  I suppose that's why it was such a surprise that she ended up back in the hospital by Halloween.  Her cancer had come back, and I needed to get home to see her.  I was scared and I didn't want to go alone and when I asked if any of my suite mates would go home with me, Michele Q was the only one to say she would.  Michele enlisted our other suite mate Monique to come with us and they managed to turn a very frightening experience into a life changing event.  Michele came home with me every weekend to go see my mom in the hospital.  She had become my best friend; my sister. 

We almost lost my mom at Christmas time, but she managed to hold on.  I returned to school after the New year, but a week into my second semester, my Uncle called to say that my mom was being released from the hospital as there was nothing more that they could do for her, and I needed to withdraw from school, come home and take care of her.

When I got back to my mom's house, I found her in a hospital bed in our living room.  My grandparents had said that they would stay to help and there would be home health aides coming daily as well.  I enrolled at Rockland Community College, and I got a job at a bakery because I couldn't stand to be at home watching my mother deteriorate.  I would get up in the middle of the night when she called me for help, but I did so begrudgingly and that is a cross that I will always have to bare.  I won't make excuses for myself, but I do realize that I was 18 and for the second time in three years I was going to lose a parent.  I was watching my mother be slowly tortured and it was killing me; so no, I wasn't in good spirits when I tried to assist her and I will forever regret that.

While the Cancer took over my mom's body and she had no idea who I was; I had reapplied to the American University School of Justice in Washington D.C and got in.  But knowing that it wouldn't be long before we were going to lose my mom, I decided that I should stay closer to home for my brother's sake and I made plans to return to LIU in the fall.    Feeling like I was going to need to focus on more than just academics, I had applied to become a Freshman Student Assistant and after an extensive interview process I was selected for a position.  FSA training was scheduled for a week before school started, but knowing that my mom's end was near, I couldn't bring myself to leave.  I called Michelle Q, who had just arrived home after spending the  summer in Suriname.  And as soon as I told her how dire things had become with my mom, she literally dropped off her suitcases and got on a bus to come up to see me.

In the only moment of lucidity that my mom had experienced in weeks, she told Michele that she needed to pack me up and take me back to school.  I didn't want to go because I knew that I would never see my mom again, but Michele insisted as it was my mother's dying wish. 

I don't remember saying goodbye to my mother, as the person that I left in that hospital bed was a mere skeleton and not the exquisite, exuberant mom that I had grown to know and love.  I think that I must have cried almost all the way to school, but Michele reassured me that she would be there for me; and she was.

A few days after classes had started, I got the call that I knew was inevitable.  On September 11, 1986 my mom had lost her long, battle with Cancer and at the age of 19, I was parentless.  Michele and some other school friends took me home for the funeral and I attempted once again, to get on with my life.

My Uncle had moved in with my brother, as he was 17 and still needed to finish high school.  I tired to go home for Christmas, but I felt so uncomfortable there, that I never went back.  My Provost knew about my situation and as I wasn't eligible for work study, he created jobs for me so that I could live on campus during winter and summer breaks.

I worked as an FSA, I was Student Government Secretary for a year and a half, and President my senior year.  I changed my major to Sociology because I decided that I didn't want to be a lawyer and I didn't want to lose all of the college credits that I came in with from high school and I decided not to attend my graduation because even though Michele  and my dad's old girlfriend would have been there for me; I thought that it would just hurt too much.

After I lost my father, I thought to myself  that losing someone so unexpectedly must be so much more awful than knowing that someone was going to pass away.  But after watching my mom suffer the way she did, I can honestly say that in my opinion,  knowing is by far worse.   

I know that this story is an unusual one, and I readily admit that these experiences have left me with profound scars.  But each day I try to be the best person that I can be and I endeavor to be a person that my mom would be proud of.  I don't hold a grudge against Richie Howell, I just don't have any fond memories or good thoughts about him. Yet despite him and the course that he set in motion for my life,  I am happy.  I know that although I lost a lot at an early age, I also have so much more than most people, in the way of those who love and care for me.  
Till next time...
Queen of EVERYTHING

(43-358) My Story - Part 1

To quote Steve Martin in "The Jerk", "My story?  OK..."  I know Big V appreciated that reference, and hopefully it gave a smile to any other "Jerk" fans out there; and I'll give this disclaimer now, that's probably the only mildly amusing part of tonight's post.  358 days into my 43rd year and I realized that although I've mentioned numerous times that both my mom and dad passed away when they were 43, I never told you how.  Because their deaths and the circumstances surrounding their passings are such a big part of who I am and why, I feel that I can't let this year go by, with out telling you my story.  So settle in, and be prepared to sit a spell, because this just may be the bumpiest ride EVER.

I remember that when I was a kid, people used to tell me that they never knew a couple more in love than my mom and dad.  I suppose this is why many were so surprised by their separation - but not me.  When I was in sixth grade my dad had heart failure and ultimately it was determined that he needed to have open heart surgery.  One night, a few weeks before his operation, he came up to say goodnight to me and he told me that if he survived the surgery he was going to leave my mother.  Being 11 I had no idea what to do or say so I kept this information to myself.  He had the surgery on May 17, 1979 and did survive, but he did not move out until November when I was on a weekend, class trip to Washington D.C and my mom was one of the chaperones.  We came home from what had been a really great trip, only to find out that he didn't live with us anymore.

I've mentioned before that Richie Howell never seemed too interested in being a dad.  But once he'd moved out, he started paying more attention to my brother and I.  We went to Broadway shows, and restaurants and he even asked us if we wanted to come and live with him.  I was conflicted about where I wanted to live, because for once my father was paying positive attention to me and my mom was dating a man that I did not like and he was coming between us.  I felt that my mom chose this man over me one night when I asked her not to go out because I'd had a tooth pulled, but he convinced her to leave me.  I called my father upset (remember I was 12) and he came over; but when my mom got home and found him there, she was not too happy with me.  After my father had left, I told my mom that I didn't like this man and she slapped me across the face.  It was this altercation that made me decide to go and live with my dad and forever changed the course of my life.

Shortly after arriving at my father's I realized that he was using my brother and I so that he wouldn't have to pay money to my mother.  We lived in a two bedroom apartment.  My dad had bought himself a beautiful bedroom set and the furniture store had given him a loaner set till his was delivered.  As they never asked for the set back, he put it in the second bedroom that I had to share with my brother.  The bedroom sets were the only furniture in the apartment other than a card table and four folding chairs.  It wasn't that my dad couldn't afford to furnish the apartment, because believe me , he could.  It was just that he said he didn't want to buy furniture for the apartment when he intended to buy a house once their divorce was final, and then he would have to buy new furniture again, which he didn't want to do.  We lived this way for two years, although my brother would move back and forth between my mom and dad's a couple of times.

While I lived with my dad I didn't talk to my mom, because he had convinced me that she'd been saying terrible things about me.  We had no relationship to speak of and that is the biggest regret of my life.  I was a child, being badly influenced by her father, and it wasn't until he died that I learned the truth.

During my first year of high school, my father informed me that my mom had been diagnosed with Cancer.  He suggested that we might move back home with her, but ultimately he decided not too.  Then the summer before I went into tenth grade, my father went into the hospital to have a hernia operation and he had a heart attack as he was coming out of the anesthesia.  His health deteriorated throughout that year, but I have to be honest and tell you that his addiction to prescription drugs definitely contributed to his illness, AND I believe that he had a death wish.  For some reason he ALWAYS had it in his head that because his father passed away at the age of 43, he would too.

It was the summer of 1983, I was 15 years old, planning for my Sweet 16 party and in love for the first time.  My brother was living with us again, because me mother threatened to take out a PINS (Person In Need Of Supervision) petition on him, and  if my father didn't take him back he would have had to go into foster care.  It was only fair that my father take him, because upon my father's orders my brother had been trying to drive my mom crazy and that included verbal and physical abuse.

I was at my boyfriend's house and my brother called to ask me if we could take him for a haircut.  When I said "No", my father told him to take the bus.  He did, but when he got off, a car hit him and he was rushed to the hospital.  My father called me and told me what had happened and he insisted that we all go to the hospital to see my brother.  We did, and on the way home, it seemed like my father was trying to prepare me for his departure.  He was telling me things like, "when you're older this, " and stuff like that; but I didn't make anything of it.  As the air conditioning happened to be broken in our apartment, my father left me and my brother's girlfriend to sleep there, and he went across the street to sleep at his girlfriend's apartment. 

The next morning HE went to get a haircut, and when he came back he told me that he didn't think that he was going to make it to my Sweet 16, (which was less than one month away).  I asked if that was because he was going to have to go out of town, and he said "No, it's because I don't think I'll be alive."  I begged him to stop talking like that, and not in so many words, told him that I thought he was exaggerating; and he told me "You're a selfish, little bitch and you're going to be sorry."  He went back to his girlfriend's apartment and left me alone.

A couple of hours later his girlfriend called to tell me that my brother had been calling non-stop because he wanted to be picked up from the hospital.  She said that she was going to stop by my apartment to get my father's phone book in case they needed to call the doctor, because he hadn't been feeling well.  She asked him if he wanted to talk to me, and he said "No."  When she stopped by a few minutes later, I decided that I would go over to her apartment to check on him.  Barefooted I crossed the street and she shouted to me that her mom was going to her car to get something and I could just let myself into the apartment.  I went in and found my father slumped off the couch.  I called to him and tried to shake him, but he didn't move.  I ran outside and called to his girlfriend's mom, "Please come quick, something is wrong with my dad."  She came up, saw him and called 911.  When the paramedics arrived, I went to get my shoes, and then rode to the hospital with the police.  They asked me for some history, which I gave to the best of my knowledge.  When I arrived at the hospital, they had me sit in a private waiting room, and after some time, my brother, his girlfriend, my boyfriend and my dad's girlfriend showed up.  The doctor then came in and told us that my father had suffered cardiac arrest and died.  He said that he was dead when I found him and I was in shock.

My father's self fulfilling prophecy had come true and my life as I knew it was about to change dramatically.  Not only did I have to face my mom, who I hadn't seen or spoken to in two years; I now had no choice but to move back to live with the woman whom my father had turned into my enemy.  Interestingly enough, all of my father's plotting and scheming were for nothing as by the time he passed away, they were nowhere close to settling their divorce and he and my mom were still married.  The only thing that he succeeded in doing was robbing me of two years with my mother, for his own selfish reasons, which is why I refer to him most often as Richie Howell, instead of my dad.     

I know that this is a lot to absorb for one night; so please return tomorrow for part 2 of my story.
Till next time...
Queen of EVERYTHING 
     

(43-343) There Are No Words

I don't like feeling helpless.  I'm not comfortable with feeling out of control and it is crucial that I make the ones that I love feel better.  Yet, when sickness and death are involved; we are all helpless.  We are all out of control, and there truly is nothing that any of us can say to make our loved one feel better.  Life is beautiful and yet cruel.  We build relationships with family, friends, pets, co-workers, and yet we are supposed to accept their illness or loss and just go on with our lives...  We all know that's not true.

My father was the first person that I personally knew who passed away and his passing was totally unexpected.  Yes, he'd been sick; but I had no idea that it was as serious as it actually was, and the fact that I'd been estranged from my mom for two years, just made the situation that much more precarious.  Things were complicated and no one really knew what to say to me, and at the age of 15 I just accepted that.

Just three years later when my mom's cancer came back and she started to get sick, I found that friends withdrew from me because they didn't know what to say or how to comfort me since death and such circumstances were something that was unfamiliar to them.  The truth of the matter is that someone who is suffering doesn't need you to have the perfect words, they just need your love and support and empathy and time.  No one can expect that someone else is going to have the magic words to make you feel all better, because those words don't exist. 

There are no words that can stop our loved ones from hurting in such situations, and really, NO ONE expects us to have them.  All that we can tell those who are suffering or nearing a loss is that we love and care for them, and that we are so sorry that they are hurting.  I know that it will make you feel helpless and out of control but there are some things that are just bigger than us.
Till next time...
Queen of EVERYTHING

(43-286) A Sad Reminder

I try to be very aware of how precious life is and how unexpectedly it can slip away; and yet, I'm guilty of  spending TOO much time worrying about problems that are insignificant in the big scheme of things.  I strive to be someone who makes the most of each day that I'm given, because I've learned first hand that tomorrow is never promised.  And yet, I still seem to spend a ridiculous amount of time with unnecessary drama; whether I want to or not.  I know that I'm not alone with this, and if I took a poll, I'm sure that at least half of the people would probably say the same; but that just means that we ALL need to reprogram ourselves.

When I got home from the supermarket yesterday, Luis seemed quite solemn.  He told me that he needed to tell me something, and the way that he said it; I got nervous.  He gave me a hug and a kiss, and I asked him what was wrong.  Luis went on to tell me that a couple of police officers had come to his hotel in the morning because they had found a room key that belonged to some guests.  Long story short (REALLY,)  A couple from Alaska, that had been staying at the hotel, had gone out for a walk, and were hit by a car and died instantly.  The driver had fallen asleep at the wheel of his SUV and he hit them both and they were killed immediately.  I cried when he told me, because it seemed so unreal; and yet so possible.  The couple were only in their early fifties; and although they had called the front desk that morning to say that they'd be checking out early, I'm certain that they had no idea how right they were.

My heart broke for their family, who I could only imagine were in shock.  It seemed so incredibly, unfair to me; and yet I KNOW that there are no guarantees.  So this is the lesson that once again I'm trying to teach myself.  And for the benefit of the (say it with me) "Greater Good," I'm sharing with you.

Luis' story is such a sad reminder of how fleeting life can be; but I want to take it to heart.  I want to keep this tragedy and all of the others that I'm aware of, locked up in a tiny compartment in my mind, so that the next time that I'm sweating the small stuff, I can pull it out, and put things into perspective; so that I don't waste another priceless minute.  And I hope that you can do the same.
Till next time...
Queen of EVERYTHING

(43-175) With Sympathy...

Everyone has their own personal way of dealing with their grief, loss, depression, stress; etc. We all have our own means of coping. For some, it is best to be surrounded by loved ones, while for others isolation is more soothing. Because people vary so much, it can be difficult to know how to be there for a friend when they're hurting; but I hoped that I knew what my dear friend, Rachel K needed.

A few months ago, Rachel had suffered the loss of her beloved friend; Barry; and then on December 26, she had to say goodbye to her four legged son, Bart. I may not get this exactly right; but I believe that Bart was a 16 1/2 year old, wire haired, Dachshund; and I can honestly say that I have never met anyone who was more devoted to their dog; than Rachel. Rachel adored Bart; and she treated him with the utmost love and respect. During the last month of his life, Rachel cooked special meals for Bart and tried to do everything and anything to restore his health. She even took him to a holistic vet in addition to seeing her traditional vet.

When Rachel called to tell me that they had to put Bart to rest; she was sobbing uncontrollably, and I felt helpless. There are NEVER any words that anyone can say to someone who has experienced such a loss; and so all I could say was "I'm so sorry;" and I was / am. I'm so sorry that she has to hurt; I'm so sorry that she has to be without her friends. I'm so sorry that she won't get to hold them or be comforted by them again, and I'm so sorry that this is unfortunately the way that life is.

I hadn't heard from Rachel since she called to tell me about losing Bart; but because I know that she needs to keep to herself when she's upset; I tried not to crowd her. I left her a message on a weekly basis; just so she would know that I was thinking of her; and I sent her a text as well. I wanted her to know that when she was ready, I'd be here for her; and in the meantime, I'd wait and send my love.

Rachel was very much on my mind today; and perhaps that's why she called me. Rachel told me that she was working on healing, slowly; and we discussed how unfair death was. I told Rachel that I felt terrible for not being able to do more for her; but I knew from personal experience that there was absolutely nothing that I could say. I apologized for not being able to do anything to provide her with some relief, and again told her how sorry I was for her loss. We chatted a bit longer, and discussed how awful death is. I said that hopefully, as time goes on; she'll be able to remember the wonderful times that she'd had with Barry and Bart and those feelings of gratitude  would replace the agonizing pain that she was experiencing now.  I know that right now, that seems impossible; but I speak from experience when I say it can be done. It will always hurt to miss our loved ones; but I do believe that Tennyson is right, "Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all."

Rachel is a woman who treasures her family of friends, and all that are fortunate enough to call her friend; are truly blessed. I am so sorry for Rachel's recent losses; and for anyone who has experienced the loss of a loved one. All I can offer is my love , my words and my sympathy; and hope that in some way, there is comfort in that.
Till next time...
Queen of EVERYTHING

(43-147) Life Is Short

I learned all too young; that life is short. And truth be told; even if you lived to be 100; I don't know that you'd ever believe that you'd been here long enough. But when someone young passes away, it's always a reminder that life is short, and you should never take anything for granted.
Of course this has been the theme of my blog since I began the 43 series; but try as I may, I'm not perfect; (that's right, I admit it;) and even though I'm trying to savor every moment, make the most of each day and appreciate the beauty that surrounds me; I am frequently derailed by the human, petty concerns that fill our daily lives.

Well, today I found out that a girl that I'd worked with a few years ago, had just passed away and she was only 24. I can't say that Christy and I were friends, but she was friends with the daughter-in-law of my co-worker, and so I would ask about her from time to time, because I knew that she'd been ill. This poor, young woman had always had a difficult life.  Her mother had been a drug abuser, and Christy paid the price for it in more ways than one.  As a teen she'd had her spleen removed, and this made her very susceptible to illness, so she was sick often. She was delighted to become pregnant, but if memory serves, it was the birth of her daughter that proved too much for her heart; and so she spent the better part of her daughter's first year, in the hospital awaiting a heart transplant. She had the transplant and but her health continued to fail. She was just 24 years old; and she passed away; and I'm very saddened by her departure.

Christy's passing has really put things into perspective for me. So, I'm re-dedicating myself to my mission to value every minute, and every day; with the understanding that if my mind is focusing on negative thoughts; then I am wasting precious time.

If you knew the day that you were going to leave this world; I don't think that any of us would chose to spend that day being angry, or resentful, disappointed, or frustrated.  I would imagine that you would want to be surrounded by positivity and LOVE. And so, since we NEVER know which day may be our last, I have to remember that those negative emotions have no place in my life. Think about it. It's not typically easy to be happy, ALL THE TIME and always see the silver lining; but, it is what you deserve.
Till next time...
Queen of EVERYTHING                                              

(43-70) The Protectors...

It's been said that as parents grow older, the roles become reversed and the children become the caretakers to the parents.  Although it's a hard row to hoe; I think that there is also something quite lovely about it. What remarkable reciprocity there can be in the circle of life.

Now don't get me wrong; I can tell you first hand that there is nothing pleasurable about watching a parent deteriorate before your very eyes.  No one ever wants to see someone that they love suffer.  And it is heartbreaking to think of what your life will be like without your loved one.   BUT, to have the satisfaction of knowing that you did your best to make someone comfortable, physically and emotionally is an experience that is a privilege to endure.

Although it was difficult to lose my parents when I was a teen; the burden is not one that I solely bear; as my children are effected every day, by my loss.   Despite their young ages, my kids are ALL very conscientious about my feelings, and how I may react to certain situations that involve the subject matter of cancer, death or dying; and they do an UNBELIEVABLE job of trying to protect and safeguard me.  It's not unusual to see one of my kids give another a disapproving, side glance if someone brings up a subject that another perceives may upset me.  Not that I get upset frequently or easily; it's just that to them, these matters are taboo because they are trying to insulate me from sadness.  I can assure you that I know how absolutely, blessed I am to have such considerate and compassionate children; but I must also admit that I hate that this is a worry that they have to have.

Luis was working at the pharmacy tonight and the kids and I were watching "GLEE."  This evening's episode was a little more serious than most; as Kurt's dad was in a coma in the hospital. Although it was a moving show, I didn't get upset; but I can't tell you how many times EACH of my kids asked me if I was OK.   To say that they weren't able to enjoy the show because their concern for me was so distracting; probably wouldn't be an exaggeration.  I was so touched by their attention and concern; and I knew in those moments what it was like to be taken care of by your children.  I felt SO proud to see that Luis and I have already parented them to a point where they can be selfless, sympathetic and supportive; and I know that I am the luckiest mom in the world; to be cared for and loved in this way.
I am so glad that I live my life with my eyes wide open; so that I can recognize the beauty, and marvel at the splendor of every special moment.  To me, being a member of a family means that we ALL take care of each other; and tonight I was fortunate to have my kids looking out for me.  Remarkable reciprocity, indeed.
Till next time...
Queen of EVERYTHING

Remembering My Mom

In Loving Memory of Leona Weiner Howell:

Sometime within the next few days it is the 22nd anniversary of my mom passing away. If you do the math, that would have made me 19. My dad had passed away just 3 years before; and my god I just cannot believe that it has been that long. Now it may seem odd that I don't know the exact day that she passed; but neither does my brother. I think that we've both blocked it out because it would just be too painful to remember on one specific day. All I know is that it was sometime between the 9th and the 13th of September. I'm inclined to think it was September 11th but that could just be me associating one disastrous day with another.
My mom was sick for many years. She had cancer when I was in high school; and then she went into remission, but a few months after I went away to college, she got sick again and she never recuperated. It was heart breaking and devastating and I miss her EVERY DAY. My mom was AMAZING (even though I didn't always realize and appreciate her at the time.) She was intelligent, beautiful, sexy, funny and charming; she had a true magnetic personality. When my mom walked in to a room, all heads turned; both men's and women's; she just had a presence that commanded attention. (Anyone who had the pleasure of knowing my mom, please leave a comment and verify that I am speaking nothing but the unadulterated truth - it would be a wonderful tribute.)

My mom was a straight shooter, a good listener and she was a compassionate friend. She was helpful and kind and GOOD. Now I'm not saying that she was perfect - she was human, so how could she be - but boy, was she close to it. It makes me so sad that we don't always know what we've got till it's gone. I wish that I'd had a better relationship with her before she got sick; but we lived a part for several years due to Richie Howell's lies and manipulations. Ironically enough, I KNOW the exact day that he died - July 16, 1983.

I'm not writing about my mom to illicit any pity or sympathy; you all should know me better than that. I just wanted to share a lesson that I have learned, because; say it with me "I'm all about the greater good." I want people to recognize that dying does not suddenly erase any errors of your past. Again, we are human; we are not perfect, and no one is expected to be; but sometimes when people pass away their loved ones tend to put them on a pedestal, and remember only the good things, and then beat themselves up over how they could have done things differently or been a better person toward their loved one. I'm here to say "Don't do that;" your loved one wouldn't want you to. Hopefully your loved one has gone on to a better place and they would not want you to spend the precious time that you have on this earth, beating yourself up over things that you coulda, shoulda done differently. They weren't perfect and neither are you. I tell you this because life is for the living and there is already so much pain and suffering out there; if you have been grieving for an extended amount of time it is now time to heal; to forgive yourself as I know your loved one is forgiving you; and to be thankful for whatever time you had. As Dr. Seuss says "Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened."
I am so grateful for the time that I did have with my mom. She was a wonderful role model and I would be honored if people thought that I emulated her in any way. It kills me that my children will never know what it feels like to be hugged by her; or to make her laugh, and that she will never get to experience how absolutely, incredible and unique they are; but I can only pray that she is watching them and loving them from beyond, and protecting them with her mother's heart.
If you are fortunate enough to still have your mom and/or dad in your life; please give them an extra hug; forgive them of the latest thing they've done to piss you off; and take a picture with them. These are times you will never be able to get back when they are gone; and you are so blessed to have this opportunity; even if it doesn't always feel like it.
Till next time...
Queen of EVERYTHING