Some things in life we get to choose: spouses, friends, insane Yorkies that yip at everything but seemed so darn cute when they were puppies we not only got one, but two (look at that, a tangent in the first sentence - that might be a record). Other things we have no control over. Like our mothers.
I am one of the lucky ones. I got a great mother. My 14-year old self would likely not concur, she would much rather slam a door and ask if I was crazy to say such a thing, but thankfully one is only 14 for a year. My mom was a natural parent ~ perhaps a side-effect of being the eldest of 4 siblings ~ but she also did what some mothers have a hard time doing ~ she transitioned from being the parent of a child to being the parent of an adult. Though, she does still tell me to go take naps. (I am much more agreeable to that now than when I was little.) It is a wonderful thing to have a mom who is also your friend.
Given current circumstances, I worry about her. I know what it is like to know your daughter is going to die. I know how heartbreaking that is ~ to be willing to do anything, anything to change her fate and not having the power to do so. I know the agony that comes when you lose your daughter. I know how hard it can seem to even breathe after that.
But I also know that my strength was something I learned, and I learned it in large part from watching how strong my mother was as I grew up. She is surrounded by many great people: my dad, her friends, Kelly, my boys, my brother...but I know that her strength, her will, her heart will help her through whatever is to come.
I love you mom...always.
Showing posts with label Heart Will. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Heart Will. Show all posts
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Monday, April 16, 2012
Why Your Mother Muttered
Parenting is a tough job. Parenting with a "life-threatening" illness (I really dislike that phrase) is tougher. I want my children's memories of me to involve sun drenched afternoons playing outside and picnics on the grass. Today would have been a lovely day for such memories. But, we had other things to do.
Today involved running Kyan to an appointment, taking Crosby for a walk so he would sleep, and telling Rory that, no, he could not spend the afternoon naked (I blame my father-in-law for that) while he went traipsing through the woods with grandma. Then I was getting dinner ready and the Rory and Kyan were not sharing well. What am I saying? Rory and Kyan were not sharing. There is no "well" about it. So the "two minute sharing rule" was declared. And when the two minutes were up the older boys did not want to follow the sharing rule and Crosby thought it would be a good time to wake up crying and so there were tears and sad faces and rice that needed to prepared. We ended up with two boys sitting on the floor while I was cursing under my breath because I could not remember where I put the Baby Bjorn (seriously, it has been 5 days...where IS that thing?), and, well...we won't discuss the rice.
I have tried to remember what I remember from when I was 4 or younger ~ and the answer is not much. Glimmers of things, more than full memories. Perhaps the boys will remember sitting on the kitchen floor while I muttered to myself. I guess if that is the case, at least now they will know why I was muttering!
Today involved running Kyan to an appointment, taking Crosby for a walk so he would sleep, and telling Rory that, no, he could not spend the afternoon naked (I blame my father-in-law for that) while he went traipsing through the woods with grandma. Then I was getting dinner ready and the Rory and Kyan were not sharing well. What am I saying? Rory and Kyan were not sharing. There is no "well" about it. So the "two minute sharing rule" was declared. And when the two minutes were up the older boys did not want to follow the sharing rule and Crosby thought it would be a good time to wake up crying and so there were tears and sad faces and rice that needed to prepared. We ended up with two boys sitting on the floor while I was cursing under my breath because I could not remember where I put the Baby Bjorn (seriously, it has been 5 days...where IS that thing?), and, well...we won't discuss the rice.
I have tried to remember what I remember from when I was 4 or younger ~ and the answer is not much. Glimmers of things, more than full memories. Perhaps the boys will remember sitting on the kitchen floor while I muttered to myself. I guess if that is the case, at least now they will know why I was muttering!
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Heart Will
This isn't good. I am tears after typing the post name.
Kelli-girl sent me this message last night: "Grief counselors have a phrase for the memories (letters, videos, etc.) that terminally ill people leave behind for their families: heart wills."
I have thought endlessly about my Heart Will. What is most important to let my children, Kelly, my parents, my friends, my family know? What stories do I want to be sure my children know that they may not hear from others? How can a Heart Will ever possibly let my boys know how deeply I love them and how each one of them changed my life for the better?
I have started working on my Heart Will. Last weekend my friend Deb arranged for me to do an audio interview with one of her old college friends, Kathie, who does this professionally. Kathie and I emailed back and forth several times before our recording session - trying to hone in on what I wanted to say in about 35 minutes. Thirty-five minutes. It, like most everything lately, felt like not nearly enough time.
We also did a set of family pictures at Crandall Park ~ a short notice, thank goodness it was nice weather, Tarah (our photographer) was available~ let's go for it set of pictures. They are lovely and will be treasured as they are the last set of pictures we will have done before treatment begins.
I write mental letters to "my people" in my head, but I haven't yet been able to actually write one. I will, soon. Maybe after tomorrow, when I will (knock on wood) hear what Dana Farber has settled on in terms of a diagnosis and treatment course, maybe when it seems a little more real. Because right now, it still doesn't feel that way.
Kelli-girl sent me this message last night: "Grief counselors have a phrase for the memories (letters, videos, etc.) that terminally ill people leave behind for their families: heart wills."
I have thought endlessly about my Heart Will. What is most important to let my children, Kelly, my parents, my friends, my family know? What stories do I want to be sure my children know that they may not hear from others? How can a Heart Will ever possibly let my boys know how deeply I love them and how each one of them changed my life for the better?
I have started working on my Heart Will. Last weekend my friend Deb arranged for me to do an audio interview with one of her old college friends, Kathie, who does this professionally. Kathie and I emailed back and forth several times before our recording session - trying to hone in on what I wanted to say in about 35 minutes. Thirty-five minutes. It, like most everything lately, felt like not nearly enough time.
We also did a set of family pictures at Crandall Park ~ a short notice, thank goodness it was nice weather, Tarah (our photographer) was available~ let's go for it set of pictures. They are lovely and will be treasured as they are the last set of pictures we will have done before treatment begins.
I write mental letters to "my people" in my head, but I haven't yet been able to actually write one. I will, soon. Maybe after tomorrow, when I will (knock on wood) hear what Dana Farber has settled on in terms of a diagnosis and treatment course, maybe when it seems a little more real. Because right now, it still doesn't feel that way.
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