It took me losing my own Mother before I ever even had "Mother" feelings for my Mother-in-law. I remember when I first got married, I didn't know what I should call her...Mom, Nancy, Nan, Mrs. C.... I ended up calling her by her first name...Nancy. Once we had children I called her grandma. It just seemed like if I called her Mom, somehow I would be replacing my own mother. I see how stupid that is, NOW, but I didn't see it way back then.
Being the baby of four children, I was six years younger than my closest sibling. By the time I was eleven, they were all grown and out the door. I was like an only child, with brothers and sisters. When you are young and your oldest sister is ten years older than you, you find that you are almost of two different generations. Ironically her only son is ten years younger than I am. She always felt the need to "mother" me, but...I already had a mother. Why couldn't she be my friend like my sister who is eight years older? Why did she always have to offer advice, tell me to do things her way....OMG, I already had a "mother" for that!
Over the years my oldest sister and I grew apart, grew together and grew apart again. I just couldn't connect with her on a level that was equal. I don't think she has ever seen me as a grown woman, I was always the little sister and she always gave me advice. I don't take advice well. I rather enjoy doing things my own way...just ask my husband. I am also not one for confrontation, but if you have a problem then by all means, lets bring it up and deal with it.
Friday, September 7, 2018
Mother's Day 2010
Today is Mother's day. I thought I had things under control, until I posted a photo of you on my Facebook account and a little poem for God to pick some flowers just for you. The tears flowed like they did when you first died, but that was eleven months ago and I thought I had it under control. I did not.
I wished you a Happy Mother's day, whispered it to you in prayer actually because you are not here for me to wish over the phone or in person.
I wished you a Happy Mother's day, whispered it to you in prayer actually because you are not here for me to wish over the phone or in person.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Opening
Somehow I have lost my sister. Perhaps I never really had her in the first place. She has not vacated my life all together, there are the occasional comments on social networking sites and perhaps an on going words with friends game. How did we get here? That's a question I have wondered for some time.
There is a half generation between us, ten years to be exact. She was grown and married, with a child before I even turned ten years old. Divorced by the time I was eleven. I grew up only knowing her as another grown up in my life, not someone I could ever really relate to. Everything about us seems contrary, from politics to religion there is much we disagreed upon. If ever she thought of me as an equal, I was not made aware. To me, she was like another mother, of which I already had one, I didn't need another.
And so we are two strangers who's DNA is similar, who's ideas are polar, who's lives go upon their winding paths that intersect at holiday's, birthday's and other note worthy family happenings. If we were to have met, in another life, would we have made enough of an impression upon each other to stick? Or would we just smile and say hello and continue along on our journey? This I don't know.
What I do know is that we share a history although we have each written ours to best suit our publisher selves. Same events, different perspectives, unique like ourselves. We share similar physical traits, blood types and a pride that keeps us apart, but beyond that we are quite individual. She is my sister, and I miss having her in my life. I can't explain why, but unlike friends who have passed through my life and then gone it isn't the same for siblings. I love her and want her back! So, if she ever finds this post and can find a place in her heart for me, I would very much like for her to know that there is a place in my heart waiting to let her in.
There is a half generation between us, ten years to be exact. She was grown and married, with a child before I even turned ten years old. Divorced by the time I was eleven. I grew up only knowing her as another grown up in my life, not someone I could ever really relate to. Everything about us seems contrary, from politics to religion there is much we disagreed upon. If ever she thought of me as an equal, I was not made aware. To me, she was like another mother, of which I already had one, I didn't need another.
And so we are two strangers who's DNA is similar, who's ideas are polar, who's lives go upon their winding paths that intersect at holiday's, birthday's and other note worthy family happenings. If we were to have met, in another life, would we have made enough of an impression upon each other to stick? Or would we just smile and say hello and continue along on our journey? This I don't know.
What I do know is that we share a history although we have each written ours to best suit our publisher selves. Same events, different perspectives, unique like ourselves. We share similar physical traits, blood types and a pride that keeps us apart, but beyond that we are quite individual. She is my sister, and I miss having her in my life. I can't explain why, but unlike friends who have passed through my life and then gone it isn't the same for siblings. I love her and want her back! So, if she ever finds this post and can find a place in her heart for me, I would very much like for her to know that there is a place in my heart waiting to let her in.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Something of my Mother's
Memorial Day hit me hard this year. It wasn't a weekend of celebration for me, it was a time of remembering. Remembering those who I have lost. Sad because my Mother's birthday fell over the Memorial Day weekend, how fitting.
When we buried my parents ashes, my brother gave my Father's wedding ring to me. I wear it on my middle finger, right hand , every day-I never take it off.. It serves as a reminder, it makes me feel closer to my dad. My sister was given my mother's rings. She doesn't wear jewelry, but treasures them just the same.
My father's ring is with me everyday to remind me of my Father, but I have nothing of my Mother's. I grew sad to think that memories and photos had to sustain me, I had nothing physical to hold on to, or to look at to remind me of her, unless I went to the photo books and searched. I missed her more! I wished I had something.
Tears filled my eyes a lot that weekend. But then as I was readying myself for bed one night, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I saw for the first time what I had overlooked.. I did have something of my Mother's. Of her four children, I was the only one who inherited her blue eyes! There they were, looking at me and I knew I would forever have something of my Mother's.
When we buried my parents ashes, my brother gave my Father's wedding ring to me. I wear it on my middle finger, right hand , every day-I never take it off.. It serves as a reminder, it makes me feel closer to my dad. My sister was given my mother's rings. She doesn't wear jewelry, but treasures them just the same.
My father's ring is with me everyday to remind me of my Father, but I have nothing of my Mother's. I grew sad to think that memories and photos had to sustain me, I had nothing physical to hold on to, or to look at to remind me of her, unless I went to the photo books and searched. I missed her more! I wished I had something.
Tears filled my eyes a lot that weekend. But then as I was readying myself for bed one night, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I saw for the first time what I had overlooked.. I did have something of my Mother's. Of her four children, I was the only one who inherited her blue eyes! There they were, looking at me and I knew I would forever have something of my Mother's.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
It's been a year already...
I Can't believe that it has been a year since my Mother passed away. I remember it like it was yesterday. I still have a message that she had left a few weeks before she died on my phone that I listen to every so often. It makes me smile to hear her voice and listen to her rambling message. I can't tell you how many times I have thought to pick up the phone to call her, Mother's day, her birthday...but she isn't on the other end of the phone...only that message is there.
I talk to her often, not as much as in the beginning, but enough to fill the gap. I feel she is listening. My father joined her six months ago, God has it been that long ago already? It's weird how time and life go on for the living after it has stopped for the dead. I miss them!
There have been times where I will see something that reminds me of them, a walker parked outside a building, a sweater, a favorite candy. I like to think of those as little messages to me from them, letting me know they are not that far away. I dread to think what it will be like to say that they have been gone 10 years, or 20. I know I will miss them still then. It will seem like an eternity since we shared a laugh or a hug, yet I know too it will seem like only yesterday.
I talk to her often, not as much as in the beginning, but enough to fill the gap. I feel she is listening. My father joined her six months ago, God has it been that long ago already? It's weird how time and life go on for the living after it has stopped for the dead. I miss them!
There have been times where I will see something that reminds me of them, a walker parked outside a building, a sweater, a favorite candy. I like to think of those as little messages to me from them, letting me know they are not that far away. I dread to think what it will be like to say that they have been gone 10 years, or 20. I know I will miss them still then. It will seem like an eternity since we shared a laugh or a hug, yet I know too it will seem like only yesterday.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Timing is everything
During the last five months of my Father's life, he faced being alone for the first time ever in his adult life. His wife of 57 years, my Mother, passed away unexpectedly. She was supposed outlive him, that's what we all thought. She was nine years his junior after all, and he had many more health issues. But his zeal for life and everything new to taste and experience is what kept him going for those eighty six years. I have never met anyone and probably never will meet anyone again who enjoyed life as much as my Father. He enjoyed the fact that he was alive. Perhaps he was afraid of death, like so many of us are. Perhaps not actually the thought of dying, but the thought of no longer living.
During those final months, my father experienced so many different emotions, extreme sadness, loss and loneliness. He would have good days and he would have bad days. The good days would allow his excitement to shine through, eating fajitas for the first time (although he called them " fajoolie"s ). Meeting new friends at the nursing care facility and sharing stories about his life and children. But on the days when he didn't feel good, a dark cloud would rest upon his head and he would shed tears for the loss of his soul mate, his wife, our mother.
It was during these dark moments when he would pick up the phone and call one of his four children, just to say hello, to tell us how much he missed our mom, to hear our voice...to be less alone. He would always say "I just called to tell you that I Love You, very much".
It was after these calls that a familiar song by Stevie Wonder would flow through my head, "I just called to say I love you". I would hum it during the day, not even realizing why it had popped into my head.
As the months after our Mother's death approached Christmas, it also approached my parent's 58th Wedding anniversary. A day they had never spent apart, until it looked , like this year. But as that day grew ever closer his health deteriorated and we were summoned by Hospice to gather and say our good byes to the Pillar of our family, Our Father.
As the alertness of the first few days, gave way to him drifting farther and farther from this world and into the next, I had to say my goodbyes because we knew the inevitable was coming, but we didn't know when. I had made the journey with my youngest son, and we spent nearly a week at his side, and it was a time now where although he was still with us, he wasn't able to communicate with us , it was time that we go home.
I leaned in to hug my Father one last time...knowing that THIS WAS the absolute LAST time I would see my Father in this earthly body, the last time I could hug him, the last time.....
Overcome by emotion I just whispered that I loved him so very much and that he was a great Father, thanked him and told him he would be OK. His mouth moved , his eyes became rapid, he was trying to say something, but he couldn't. I told him it was OK, I KNEW he loved me, he told me every time we spoke.
After saying farewell to my sister and her son who could spend another day vigil at his bedside, I made my way to the car and had a complete breakdown. Crying with Heaving thrusts that made my fifteen year old son very uncomfortable. He looked at me and then looked away not knowing how to handle what was going on. We sat warming the car, me hysterically in tears , HIM fidgeting....he turned on the radio.
At that moment a song played.......the song was Stevie Wonder and the words at that exact time "I just called to say I love you".
My son and I made eye contact.....he said "It's a sign". And it was! And suddenly I was a peace. I knew that my Father was making his way to the other side. I knew that he couldn't tell me what he wanted to say, but the message was sent just the same.
He passed away the next afternoon, my brother at his side, minutes after my brother gave his permission to go and be with our mother. Just days before their anniversary. They would indeed spend this one together like the past fifty seven.
Timing is indeed EVERYTHING!
During those final months, my father experienced so many different emotions, extreme sadness, loss and loneliness. He would have good days and he would have bad days. The good days would allow his excitement to shine through, eating fajitas for the first time (although he called them " fajoolie"s ). Meeting new friends at the nursing care facility and sharing stories about his life and children. But on the days when he didn't feel good, a dark cloud would rest upon his head and he would shed tears for the loss of his soul mate, his wife, our mother.
It was during these dark moments when he would pick up the phone and call one of his four children, just to say hello, to tell us how much he missed our mom, to hear our voice...to be less alone. He would always say "I just called to tell you that I Love You, very much".
It was after these calls that a familiar song by Stevie Wonder would flow through my head, "I just called to say I love you". I would hum it during the day, not even realizing why it had popped into my head.
As the months after our Mother's death approached Christmas, it also approached my parent's 58th Wedding anniversary. A day they had never spent apart, until it looked , like this year. But as that day grew ever closer his health deteriorated and we were summoned by Hospice to gather and say our good byes to the Pillar of our family, Our Father.
As the alertness of the first few days, gave way to him drifting farther and farther from this world and into the next, I had to say my goodbyes because we knew the inevitable was coming, but we didn't know when. I had made the journey with my youngest son, and we spent nearly a week at his side, and it was a time now where although he was still with us, he wasn't able to communicate with us , it was time that we go home.
I leaned in to hug my Father one last time...knowing that THIS WAS the absolute LAST time I would see my Father in this earthly body, the last time I could hug him, the last time.....
Overcome by emotion I just whispered that I loved him so very much and that he was a great Father, thanked him and told him he would be OK. His mouth moved , his eyes became rapid, he was trying to say something, but he couldn't. I told him it was OK, I KNEW he loved me, he told me every time we spoke.
After saying farewell to my sister and her son who could spend another day vigil at his bedside, I made my way to the car and had a complete breakdown. Crying with Heaving thrusts that made my fifteen year old son very uncomfortable. He looked at me and then looked away not knowing how to handle what was going on. We sat warming the car, me hysterically in tears , HIM fidgeting....he turned on the radio.
At that moment a song played.......the song was Stevie Wonder and the words at that exact time "I just called to say I love you".
My son and I made eye contact.....he said "It's a sign". And it was! And suddenly I was a peace. I knew that my Father was making his way to the other side. I knew that he couldn't tell me what he wanted to say, but the message was sent just the same.
He passed away the next afternoon, my brother at his side, minutes after my brother gave his permission to go and be with our mother. Just days before their anniversary. They would indeed spend this one together like the past fifty seven.
Timing is indeed EVERYTHING!
What happens when you die?
I watched as my father lay upon his death bed. He was 86, and knew full well that his time alive in his body was nearing the end. His biggest fear was that he didn't have enough faith to get him into Heaven.
A clergy from Hospice comforted him, assured him that he had enough Faith. And I watched as his faith comforted him as he prepared to embark on his journey. He confided to me in one of his rare moments of alertness, that he was going to die soon. I didn't know what to say to him, but I hugged him and told him it was OK, he would see Mom again and be together with her again.
I sat for hours thinking that every struggled breath was going to be his last. Contemplated what I would do if he left his body while I was there. Contemplated where he was going.
I believe that there is life after death. I believe there is a GOD. I am just not sure that when we die we go live in the sky and dance in the clouds. There is something, but exactly what remains to be seen. At times the idea of what happens to us when we leave the body seems as clear as a pane of glass, yet other times it is not so clear.
My Father outlived my Mother by only 5 months. The circumstances surrounding her death were much more harsh, because they came without warning. We were relocating them from Washington state where they had migrated nearly 20 years before, back to Wisconsin where they were originally from, where two of the four siblings still resided. We were relocating them to a nursing facility because their health was deteriorating and they needed full time healthcare.
My mother died the first night back in Wisconsin, in a Hotel room where she awaited a morning doctor visit that was needed to admit her to the nursing home because she came from out of state. She told my Father on the flight the day before that she thought she was going to die. She didn't want to go to the nursing home, she was doing it for him...she was doing it to move back to family because she knew that eventually they would be alone if they didn't make the move now while they were able.
She wasn't well in the days preceding her death, I know that now...I didn't see it then, even though the signs were there. My sister didn't see it either. I suggested a check up, but she refused to be checked by a doctor. After her sudden death, those thoughts of guilt crept in, if only we would have taken her to the doctor.... We did the best we could with the information we had at the time. She died and we were left wondering if there was something more we could have done. But our Mother...that was her way...well that is a story for another day.
For five months after her death, I felt that she was alone, she died alone , even though there were others in the room with her, my Father, my sister...they didn't know she was dying...so she was alone in her death. The guilt, the things that we could have, should have done....
But with our Father, we were given more time... a week. We knew the end was near, there was time to say goodbye and siblings all took the time to say it. When he passed, it wasn't as shocking as what had happened to Mom...it wasn't as dark, there was no guilt, just sadness that they were both gone. The thought of them together made everything feel ....sweet in a way... like Mom was now OK.
I am not sure where their souls are exactly. I believe that they are in Heaven, where ever that is. I believe they are together, I believe they see what we are doing...there have been little signs. I have faith that I will someday see them again. And I pray that my faith is enough!
A clergy from Hospice comforted him, assured him that he had enough Faith. And I watched as his faith comforted him as he prepared to embark on his journey. He confided to me in one of his rare moments of alertness, that he was going to die soon. I didn't know what to say to him, but I hugged him and told him it was OK, he would see Mom again and be together with her again.
I sat for hours thinking that every struggled breath was going to be his last. Contemplated what I would do if he left his body while I was there. Contemplated where he was going.
I believe that there is life after death. I believe there is a GOD. I am just not sure that when we die we go live in the sky and dance in the clouds. There is something, but exactly what remains to be seen. At times the idea of what happens to us when we leave the body seems as clear as a pane of glass, yet other times it is not so clear.
My Father outlived my Mother by only 5 months. The circumstances surrounding her death were much more harsh, because they came without warning. We were relocating them from Washington state where they had migrated nearly 20 years before, back to Wisconsin where they were originally from, where two of the four siblings still resided. We were relocating them to a nursing facility because their health was deteriorating and they needed full time healthcare.
My mother died the first night back in Wisconsin, in a Hotel room where she awaited a morning doctor visit that was needed to admit her to the nursing home because she came from out of state. She told my Father on the flight the day before that she thought she was going to die. She didn't want to go to the nursing home, she was doing it for him...she was doing it to move back to family because she knew that eventually they would be alone if they didn't make the move now while they were able.
She wasn't well in the days preceding her death, I know that now...I didn't see it then, even though the signs were there. My sister didn't see it either. I suggested a check up, but she refused to be checked by a doctor. After her sudden death, those thoughts of guilt crept in, if only we would have taken her to the doctor.... We did the best we could with the information we had at the time. She died and we were left wondering if there was something more we could have done. But our Mother...that was her way...well that is a story for another day.
For five months after her death, I felt that she was alone, she died alone , even though there were others in the room with her, my Father, my sister...they didn't know she was dying...so she was alone in her death. The guilt, the things that we could have, should have done....
But with our Father, we were given more time... a week. We knew the end was near, there was time to say goodbye and siblings all took the time to say it. When he passed, it wasn't as shocking as what had happened to Mom...it wasn't as dark, there was no guilt, just sadness that they were both gone. The thought of them together made everything feel ....sweet in a way... like Mom was now OK.
I am not sure where their souls are exactly. I believe that they are in Heaven, where ever that is. I believe they are together, I believe they see what we are doing...there have been little signs. I have faith that I will someday see them again. And I pray that my faith is enough!
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