I'm standing outside on a dark, dark night. I look around and everything looks foreign, but it feels familiar. I am looking up at a starry sky. The stars are twinkling like diamonds and my eyes are drawn to them so strongly, I can't look away. That's when, I hear her voice. I don't see her, but I hear her. It's definitely her. I ask her if she is okay, and without hearing her answer, I feel that she is happy. I can't remember her exact words in the beginning, but I know she was trying to tell me something very, very important...................
I know I have said this a couple of times, but I am sorry I have been avoiding writing. As I told a special person earlier, writing has been my therapy through this whole thing. I have cried on this keyboard so many times, I can't believe it still works. I have hit this desk with my fists, and I have smiled, even giggled to myself as I recalled a beautiful day and told you all about it. But, my writing takes me to a vulnerable and fragile place where I am forced to embrace the loss of her. And sometimes, just sometimes, ignoring that pain seems easier. But that special person I mentioned earlier, Amanda, reminded me that there are more people reading this than just my sister in law and close friends. There are a couple people out there going through the exact same thing that I went through with my mom. I don't want them to think avoiding their feelings is the right way to handle this situation. Because it absolutely is not. You have to face this thing head on, and be strong. So, here I am.
I have made it through almost all the big firsts, and I am okay. We are, amazingly, approaching the one-year mark and that just freaking blows my mind. I cannot believe it has almost been a year since I hugged my sweet little mama. I miss her, horribly. But, I will say, I don't feel as depressed. For the last 10 months, I have fought off depression symptoms with all my might. Looking back, perhaps it would have been in mine, and my family's best interests if I had got on some antidepressants. Every day that I woke up, I would play with the kids and try to be myself, but secretly I was counting down till the girls' nap time so that I could go back to sleep. I was insanely sleepy. Then, my insomnia kept me up most of the night. Tylenol PM became my best friend, and even then, I woke up the next morning sleepy, and the cycle continued. I had no energy. I didn't really feel like doing anything physical, and what little bit I did around the house, took great effort. I was easy to anger and impatient. Not two characteristics of the pre-cancer me. I cried a lot. I speak of all this in the past tense because I seem to be getting a little better. One morning, (I can't pin point which one-- it was around Christmas), I woke up and I wasn't sleepy. I had a little more energy (although I didn't use it to clean the house :/ ) And at nap time, I COULDN'T sleep with the kids because I wasn't tired (once again, I didn't clean, I watched tv). I didn't feel as mad, or impatient....In fact, I KIND OF felt like the old me. I still cry. Not near as often, but I still do. The other night, I had a melt down in the bedroom (the kids were in the living room with Michael). I have given a lot of nights the title: "worst night yet", but I am afraid that one really takes the cake. I had her pictures spread all over the bedroom floor and I sat in a little hole between the bed and a wall. I cried so hard, it literally hurt my face. The next morning, my eyes were practically swole shut. I didn't even know that was possible until I lost my mom. So anyway, I definitely still cry. Perhaps I will always occasionally have a meltdown. But, I can feel myself getting stronger. I do still have trouble sleeping at night, but, I have hopes that I will soon conquer that symptom as well. Like I said, looking back, I probably could have avoided some of these symptoms had I really faced facts and talked to a dr. And I encourage anyone who thinks they may be depressed to do the same. But I am happy to report, that for a couple weeks now, my depression-type symptoms seem to be alleviating. Fingers crossed that it stays that way. My husband and children are gifts from God. They have tolerated me in my every form. I am forever grateful to them.
What has kept me afloat until now, is my ever evolving relationship with Jesus. For my non-believing readers out there, please don't roll your eyes. Please. Please just understand, that if you have not accepted Jesus as your Savior, you are missing your number one companion in life and beyond. Do you think I would have made it through all of this without Him? Listen to me....I WOULD NOT HAVE MADE IT. Please take a moment to hear the Gospel, to talk to someone about your salvation, and to consider changing your life today. Today is the day. When I refer to "the day I got saved", I was saved in so many different ways, I can't begin to really describe them all to you. It's truly amazing. This beautiful relationship saves me again and again everyday. I strongly encourage my lost friends out there to embrace the love that is offered to you by God. Words can't describe it, you have to feel it to "get it". Oh, and my church family, they are incredible. It is something I have never had outside of my relatives. I have my faith in my heart and soul. But, I have my church family to hold my hand and wipe my tears. They don't judge me when I cry as I speak about my loss. They cry with me. They don't walk away, when I talk about her, yet again. They listen as though its the first time they've heard it. They keep me walking straight and upright. They have been irreplaceable through this.
I pray constantly....And usually tacked on to each prayer is a request. I am not sure it meets prayer etiquette. I am not sure it is appropriate. But, none the less, I ask God every time....."Please allow my mom to find a way to talk to me. Please. I just want to talk to her......."
I'm standing outside on a dark, dark night. I look around and everything looks foreign, but it feels familiar. I am looking up at a starry sky. The stars are twinkling like diamonds and my eyes are drawn to them so strongly, I can't look away. That's when, I hear her voice. I don't see her, but I hear her. It's definitely her. I ask her if she is okay, and without hearing her answer, I feel that she is happy. I can't remember her exact words in the beginning, but I know she was trying to tell me something very, very important. I asked "can you see us?" and she replied "I see some things". I told her I missed her. Though I can't remember her response, I felt that she misses me too. She is proud of me, and of my brothers. I felt that she had something very important to tell me. Finally she said it "live your life in a way that glorifies Him. Live your life in a way that will lead to us". She told me she loved me. Then she said "I will see you again, when you ascend". And just like that, she was gone. I continued to stare up at that sky full of diamonds. My arms were extended to the Heavens as I danced around and yelled "I KNEW YOU'D FIND A WAY! I LOVE YOU! THANK YOU! I was crying tears of joy. Then, around 3am, I woke up in my bed. My eyes were still full of tears. And the smile was still on my face. And my heart was still full of joy. And I knew my prayer was answered. Though returning to my slumber that night, forced me to forget some of the details of my conversation with my mom, my heart remembers because I still feel her answers. I feel her. I feel God. I feel complete.
Sweet, sweet Amy,
Your cousin, Amanda, emailed me and I know a little about your story. I am so flattered that my documenting this time in my life has offered you even a little bit of comfort.....
Please keep yourself strong for your mother. You CAN do this sweetheart. You have got a long road ahead of you, but if you put your faith in God, you can tackle any obstacle. Do me a favor and soak up the moments you have with her. Don't let a single word go unspoken, hug left ungiven, and please, please, don't let one moment go uncherished. I hope you continue to find comfort here and feel free to email me anytime. I will be more dedicated to my writing for those like you and your precious cousin Amanda. Please remember to pray. My mom didn't live a full life like I begged for in prayer, but she lives on in me. She didn't walk through my door the other night, after I prayed to talk to her. But, I talked to her, none the less. Pray, pray, pray sweet girl. Sometimes those prayers are not answered the way we want them to be, but they are heard and answered all the same.
I will pray for you and your family......
Thank you Amanda......
Me and my mom, my best friend.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Do What Needs to Be Done
I'd like to talk about a reoccurring thought I have been having. One that I have been blocking out until the last couple of days.
As some of you know, my papaw (mama's daddy) passed away just months before my mom. Sadly, it was not as swift of a process as it was for my mom. My papaw was "down" for a long time before he finally let go and went to heaven. I remember those last weeks of his life-- although I sometimes wish I didn't. He played a major role in mine and my girls' lives. Sometimes I feel I didn't get to properly grieve his passing, because I immediately threw myself into caring for my mom, who had just been diagnosed with a terminal illness. Anyway, Back to the reoccurring thought, I told you about. I just keep thinking about this one particular day. My papaw was in the hospital. He was awake, but due to the damage done by a stroke, he couldn't speak or do for himself some of the most basic things that you and I often take for granted. I watched my mom, my aunts and my uncle spoon feed their dad, clean him, love and soothe him day after day until his last breath was taken. On this specific day that has been plaguing my mind and heart, my mom was cleaning his face and talking to her dad, my papaw, like he was her child. I don't mean in a condescending way. I mean in a nurturing, calming and loving way. I felt sorry for her. "How horrible it must be, to have to do such things for a parent", I thought. I also thought "it's amazing what you can do, when it just needs to be done". I noticed her facial expression as we visited with him. It was strong, and what she was doing seemed effortless. But I could see that something was in the back of her mind. My girls ran amok like usual and he watched them with confusion, but there was some hint of enjoyment in his expression. After we kissed his stubbly face and left, mom was really quiet. As we drove home, she finally broke her silence and made a request. "Keep me clean, Nikki. Keep my mouth wiped and make sure I'm clean and smell nice." I was hurting. This was early in her diagnosis. I was aware of what was "supposed to happen", but blissfully unaware that it would "actually" happen. I nodded and agreed. But as I reassured her, it never really dawned on me what she was asking. I didn't realize the gravity of the request she was making. Now I see that she knew what was coming. She knew. I didn't. Not really. But she did. A few months later, I would be dampening cloths to clean my mom's face and rubbing nice smelling lotion on her just like she asked me to do on that faithful day. I would be talking to her in my softest most compassionate voice, as if she were my child. And I would hold her hand as she breathed her last breath. It definitely was not effortless, but the average bystander would never know exactly how hard it was, by looking at us. It's amazing what you can do, when it just needs to be done.
It's been a while since I posted a blog. ... Just like last time, I've been tyring to focus on the here and now and keep my mind as far away from the past as I can. I have been avoiding writing to try and make it through the holidays. Avoidance isn't the healthiest approach to healing-- I know. But I just needed to focus on my girls to get through this tough time. I am happy to report that we had a beautiful Christmas and I didn't totally fall apart. A little meltdown here and there, but for the most part I was tough and didn't just make it through, I really soaked up the time with my family. I laughed and danced around the kitchen with my aunt Punk and Ronnie and my girls as Christmas music blared in the background. I giggled and played with toys with my girls, as if years had been shaved off and a weight had been removed from my heart. I didn't stop to dwell on the significant absences that were so prevalent. I didn't think. I didn't write. I just coped with each moment individually as they came and went. But each day I got up and put one foot in front of the other. I smiled and laughed and played with my babies. I actually had fun, though it was my first Christmas without her...... It's amazing what you can do, when it just needs to be done. It was a beautiful holiday. (I will share photos with you later).
On this night exactly one year ago, my mom was sick, but here. She was here to talk to and hug and love. I miss her more and more each day. And though, at times, I can successfully push thoughts out of my mind, I can never fully rid my heart of the ache of her loss. Tonight I popped fireworks and clapped for Michael with my girls as he lit fuses that filled the night sky with beautiful colors. We watched from below, but I smiled to myself wondering with childlike curiosity what the fireworks look like from above. I let myself really think about her today. She was the first person I spoke to in the year 2012. And it hurts to know that I am now entering a year that she will never grace with her presence. Though my heart has a hole that can never be filled, I will keep moving forward with life. I will live my life the best I can, because she can't live hers. I will be the best mother I can be, because I learned from the best. I will handle the hard stuff, because life was never a bed of roses for her, but she handled it with strength and grace. I will work on my relationship with God. I will try harder to cope with this loss in a healthy manner. Tonight will end the last year that my mom was physically here with me. But, each day I feel her with me in my heart. My final resolution is this, I will not skip the details, but embrace those tiny little moments filled with jewels of happiness. I will live life to the fullest for my mama, for Michael, for my babies. I will do what needs to be done. I've been given this beautiful life--so I am going to live it! It's amazing what you can do, when it just needs to be done.
To all of you who have followed me through the last two years of ups, downs, gains and losses: Thank you for your support, your prayers and your love. May God bless this new year, just as he did all the years before. Do me a favor, and hug your mom, give her a kiss for me and thank her for everything she has done. Tell her you love her. I love each of you and wish you and your families the happiest new year possible!
As some of you know, my papaw (mama's daddy) passed away just months before my mom. Sadly, it was not as swift of a process as it was for my mom. My papaw was "down" for a long time before he finally let go and went to heaven. I remember those last weeks of his life-- although I sometimes wish I didn't. He played a major role in mine and my girls' lives. Sometimes I feel I didn't get to properly grieve his passing, because I immediately threw myself into caring for my mom, who had just been diagnosed with a terminal illness. Anyway, Back to the reoccurring thought, I told you about. I just keep thinking about this one particular day. My papaw was in the hospital. He was awake, but due to the damage done by a stroke, he couldn't speak or do for himself some of the most basic things that you and I often take for granted. I watched my mom, my aunts and my uncle spoon feed their dad, clean him, love and soothe him day after day until his last breath was taken. On this specific day that has been plaguing my mind and heart, my mom was cleaning his face and talking to her dad, my papaw, like he was her child. I don't mean in a condescending way. I mean in a nurturing, calming and loving way. I felt sorry for her. "How horrible it must be, to have to do such things for a parent", I thought. I also thought "it's amazing what you can do, when it just needs to be done". I noticed her facial expression as we visited with him. It was strong, and what she was doing seemed effortless. But I could see that something was in the back of her mind. My girls ran amok like usual and he watched them with confusion, but there was some hint of enjoyment in his expression. After we kissed his stubbly face and left, mom was really quiet. As we drove home, she finally broke her silence and made a request. "Keep me clean, Nikki. Keep my mouth wiped and make sure I'm clean and smell nice." I was hurting. This was early in her diagnosis. I was aware of what was "supposed to happen", but blissfully unaware that it would "actually" happen. I nodded and agreed. But as I reassured her, it never really dawned on me what she was asking. I didn't realize the gravity of the request she was making. Now I see that she knew what was coming. She knew. I didn't. Not really. But she did. A few months later, I would be dampening cloths to clean my mom's face and rubbing nice smelling lotion on her just like she asked me to do on that faithful day. I would be talking to her in my softest most compassionate voice, as if she were my child. And I would hold her hand as she breathed her last breath. It definitely was not effortless, but the average bystander would never know exactly how hard it was, by looking at us. It's amazing what you can do, when it just needs to be done.
It's been a while since I posted a blog. ... Just like last time, I've been tyring to focus on the here and now and keep my mind as far away from the past as I can. I have been avoiding writing to try and make it through the holidays. Avoidance isn't the healthiest approach to healing-- I know. But I just needed to focus on my girls to get through this tough time. I am happy to report that we had a beautiful Christmas and I didn't totally fall apart. A little meltdown here and there, but for the most part I was tough and didn't just make it through, I really soaked up the time with my family. I laughed and danced around the kitchen with my aunt Punk and Ronnie and my girls as Christmas music blared in the background. I giggled and played with toys with my girls, as if years had been shaved off and a weight had been removed from my heart. I didn't stop to dwell on the significant absences that were so prevalent. I didn't think. I didn't write. I just coped with each moment individually as they came and went. But each day I got up and put one foot in front of the other. I smiled and laughed and played with my babies. I actually had fun, though it was my first Christmas without her...... It's amazing what you can do, when it just needs to be done. It was a beautiful holiday. (I will share photos with you later).
On this night exactly one year ago, my mom was sick, but here. She was here to talk to and hug and love. I miss her more and more each day. And though, at times, I can successfully push thoughts out of my mind, I can never fully rid my heart of the ache of her loss. Tonight I popped fireworks and clapped for Michael with my girls as he lit fuses that filled the night sky with beautiful colors. We watched from below, but I smiled to myself wondering with childlike curiosity what the fireworks look like from above. I let myself really think about her today. She was the first person I spoke to in the year 2012. And it hurts to know that I am now entering a year that she will never grace with her presence. Though my heart has a hole that can never be filled, I will keep moving forward with life. I will live my life the best I can, because she can't live hers. I will be the best mother I can be, because I learned from the best. I will handle the hard stuff, because life was never a bed of roses for her, but she handled it with strength and grace. I will work on my relationship with God. I will try harder to cope with this loss in a healthy manner. Tonight will end the last year that my mom was physically here with me. But, each day I feel her with me in my heart. My final resolution is this, I will not skip the details, but embrace those tiny little moments filled with jewels of happiness. I will live life to the fullest for my mama, for Michael, for my babies. I will do what needs to be done. I've been given this beautiful life--so I am going to live it! It's amazing what you can do, when it just needs to be done.
To all of you who have followed me through the last two years of ups, downs, gains and losses: Thank you for your support, your prayers and your love. May God bless this new year, just as he did all the years before. Do me a favor, and hug your mom, give her a kiss for me and thank her for everything she has done. Tell her you love her. I love each of you and wish you and your families the happiest new year possible!
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