I Lit the Candle and Breathed Deep

The first thing my dog Sam did this morning was walk straight into my mother's bedroom and just stood in the doorway. For at least 10-seconds he stood there, then turned around and looked at me.

Sam looked for "Gramma" everyday for about a week after she passed away. He'd walk into her room, circle the bed, then stand in the doorway for a few seconds. But he hasn't done it since then.
Does he know today marks five-months since last we saw Mom?

This morning when I started my car to go to work, the radio was set to a Christian station blaring a song so loud it nearly knocked my shoes off. I don't listen to Christian radio, but who knows? Maybe I was in the process of 'channel surfing' when I stopped the car, and that's the station it landed on. I own a convertible and I do blare my music when the top is down. But the top wasn't down.
So, who knows?
What I do know is that once I gathered my senses after the blast of shockingly loud music that I'm sure my neighbors appreciated at 6:30 a.m., I caught the last words of the song that was playing:

“You are starting over, you are beginning a new life…have no regrets…be proud…”

I don't know who was singing. I don't know the rest of the lyrics. And I haven't been able to find them online.

But, are they words from my mother? Is she telling me to let go of the things that occurred during her final days that are tormenting me? Is this the message from Mom for which I've been longing?
I prefer to think so.

It comes on the heals of the best visit I've ever had with my younger sister. The kind of visit that would make Mother smile. Period.
We stayed up until 1 a.m. talking and listening - most importantly - listening.
The next day, we played - and still we talked and listened.

In some ways, I think knowing we're going to be okay helped to settle Mom. And I think the song was her way of telling me just that.
Mother loved music. She received many accolades for her melodious voice.
When I was a child, she'd often sing along to her albums while preparing dinner.

With a little creative freedom on my part, here's a portion of a poem I found online today by K. Hardiman that also speaks directly to me:

         

Sweet smile on your face as you sleep the pain away,
Resting in God's arms now, although in the ground your body lay.
He needed another angel in the Heavenly choir and that's why you had to go.
As you promised, you are still with us watching your children here below.

I never would have imagined the end would be like this, me comforting you.
Holding your hand, telling you not to worry was not an easy thing for me to do.
And even in your weakest hours you tried to comfort me, too,
Caressing my face, and calming my soul as only a mother can soothe.

You have always been there through the thick and the thin
No matter what I've done, unconditionally your love never wavering.

I miss you more than these words could ever say.
The pain in my heart is from one unimaginable day.
After I cried all that I could; my eyes still shed countless more tears.
And when I try to sleep, I have nightmares of ten-thousand fears.
I walk in footsteps on an unsure path
At times my load feels so heavy, I'm not sure I will last.

Silly though I may be, I'm afraid of life now that you're gone,
Because I've always had a mother.

I will walk in footsteps you have walked before me
Seeing the path you walked led you, Mom, straight into victory.

So as you sleep Mommy, in the cradle of the Lord,
I am reassured of God's promises you taught me through His Word.
I know that someday  Heaven's gates will open to receive me,
And with your smiling face and loving eyes, reunited once again we will be.

 

I lit the candle today, Frannie!

To Have and To Hold

I have a friend who says he will never join Facebook, because posting to it is no different than standing naked in the middle of a packed football stadium.

My younger sister doesn't normally reveal herself through a social media posting, so when I saw a post about her feeling down I was surprised. In her two sentence, but very telling, post she spoke of missing our mother, but also mentioned that our mother will never know my sister's grandchildren. To be honest, my first reaction, which she will learn about now, was that my niece was pregnant. I was elated.

Mom was placed under Hospice care on Sept. 17. My niece's wedding was scheduled for Sept. 29.

Mom was trying so hard to hold on to life long enough to attend her granddaughter's wedding. She told the nurses from Hospice that was her goal. She told me to make sure she got to the wedding; to do whatever I needed to do to make sure it would happen.
Much to her disappointment, when I realized that she would not be able to physically attend the wedding, on Sept. 25, my son began making arrangements for the wedding to be Skyped so Mother could watch it from her bed at home. I thought we had come upon a great solution -- she would still be a part of the ceremony, witnessing the exchange of vows, and my niece and sister would know Mom was there. In looking back on it now, I realize that's when she gave up, gave in and the true transition began.

Mother passed away on the night of Sept. 26.

Because my sister and her beautiful daughter were so busy with all the things you should be busy doing only days before one of the happiest days of a family's life, my sister was not able to be with Mother the night she passed away. I know that was very hard on my sister; making it impossible to "mourn in the normal ways."
While I was planning Mother's funeral, my sister had to force herself to put on a smile and focus on last minute wedding plans; like the dozens of guests arriving from out of state, the rehearsal dinner, and so much more. I don't know that I could have been as strong - that I could have done what she did.

The wedding went on as planned, and on Sept. 29 my niece married her soul mate in the absolutely beautiful setting of a central Florida lakeside park, with its cool breezes and moss covered cypress trees against the backdrop of one of Florida's always gorgeous sunsets.

My niece and her husband will soon be married for five-months, so when I first read my sister's post, I don't really think is was completely unreasonable for me to think they might be planning a family. But then I read some of her friends' comments and realized this was not a coded message, breaking what could be some of the best news to hear in a long time. It was my sister revealing herself and reaching out for help - in all of her own nakedness.

A tsunami wave of missing Mom hit my sister. Perhaps it's hit her more often than she's been willing to reveal, but this time there was enough emotion to call out for help. I'm so glad her friends were there for her.

Love you, Sissy.

Angels Among Us

Placing my father in nursing home care was the hardest decision my mother, who included the whole family, ever had to make. But because Alzheimer's disease had made it nearly impossible for my mother to care for him, that decision had to be made.

My husband and I only lived about a half-mile away from my parents at the time, so we were on 24/7 call, which we didn't mind. But the true hardship was on my mother, who - at one point - literally locked herself inside with Daddy for about six-months after he wandered off one morning in their car and took a "joy ride" across south Florida. Luckily we found him before any harm had come to him or others, but nothing was ever the same after that. Mother locked all the doors and windows, hid all the keys and when I would go to their house after work each day, she would go into their bedroom and close the door. The job of a loving caregiver is, in one simple word, hard.
The Huffington Post has posted a story (follow the link below) entitled Confessions of a Worn Out Alzheimer's Caregiver, which is a good read:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/marie-marley/dementia-caregiver_b_2614194.html?utm_hp_ref=fb&src=sp&comm_ref=false
It's not really the reason I'm writing tonight, but if you are a caregiver, please do read it.

Tonight, I'm trying to ward-off the tsunami. I feel it coming on, again, but I'm hoping I can write about some of the things that are triggering my emotions and "handle" it.

The new bed was delivered on Saturday, so now my mother's room has a queen-sized bed in it for our guests. Mom has settled down and I'm not running into her in the hallway now. In fact, I haven't smelled her since her room was put back together Saturday, which I miss. But while I was making the bed with its new sheets, I got sidetracked (squirrel!) by some of the collectibles on shelves in the room. Angels everywhere!
Here's why:

On the very day we placed Daddy in nursing home care, a tiny black and white kitten showed up at my mother's back door. At first, Mom was completely unimpressed and wanted my older sister or me to take the kitten to the Humane Society. She sat in her chair with the little thing in her lap and began to cry, and we knew right then - despite any protests to the contrary - the kitten had found a new home. Within a few hours, Mother had decided it was a sign, that it was meant to be, and named the kitten "Angel." From that day forward, my mother collected all things angels, and she and the kitten were inseparable.

Here's a photo of sweet little Angel after she had found a way to climb all the way up to the space over my kitchen cabinets! (giving both Mother and me a heart attack)

Poor little Angel died from kidney and liver problems about two years before my mother passed away. Mom's heart was broken. It was her last connection to my dad - her husband of 65 years. I understand that. I really wanted her to get a new kitten, but she didn't want to have anything at all to do with that idea. Still today, I wish she had done it.

At some point, I will begin to box up some of the angels in our house and I'll give them to my sister and brother, my son and nieces and to my cousins -- I'm sure they will appreciate them as much as Mother did.

In the meantime, the angels are all where Mother placed them, and I enjoy seeing them everyday. Because Mom lived with us for so long, there are many things around our house that remind me of her...but the angels make me think of both Mom and Daddy.

Here are the lyrics to Angels Among Us, a song released in 1993 and written by Don Goodman and Becky Hobbs:
I was walking home from school on a cold winter day.
Took a shortcut through the woods, and I lost my way.
It was getting late, and I was scared and alone.
But then a kind old man took my hand and led me home.
Mama couldn't see him, but he was standing there.
And I knew in my heart, he was the answer to my prayers.

Oh I believe there are angels among us.
Sent down to us from somewhere up above.
They come to you and me in our darkest hours.
To show us how to live, to teach us how to give.
To guide us with the light of love.

When life held troubled times, and had me down on my knees.
There's always been someone there to come along and comfort me.
A kind word from a stranger, to lend a helping hand.
A phone call from a friend, just to say I understand.

And ain't it kind of funny that at the dark end of the road.
Someone lights the way with just a single ray of hope.

Oh I believe there are angels among us.
Sent down to us from somewhere up above.
They come to you and me in our darkest hours.
To show us how to live, to teach us how to give.
To guide us with the light of love.


They wear so many faces; show up in the strangest places.
To grace us with their mercy, in our time of need.

Oh I believe there are angels among us.
Sent down to us from somewhere up above.
They come to you and me in our darkest hours.
To show us how to live, to teach us how to give.
To guide us with the light of love.

To guide us with the light of love.

The Red Bird Comes All Winter

Mom's been roaming the halls, so to speak.
Her bedroom, bathroom and living room, as well as my sewing/crafting/office/guest room, are on one side of our house.
She and I have been, almost quite literally, running into each other in the hallway for the past three days and nights. It has reminded me of when we'd clash in the kitchen - not because of differences, but because of her walker, which would sometimes get in the way of our "cooking flow."

I smell her, I feel her, and I talk to her -- yep, I admit it -- I've been talking to her.
But when I tell you why, you'll understand.

My sewing/crafting/office/guest room has had only a full bed in it, and when guests did come and spend some time with us, they were cramped into that small-ish bed. Mom also only had a full bed. She could have had whatever she wanted, and she chose a full bed. (I'm sure you can see now where this is going.)

I've been thinking, for about a month, that it might be time to eliminate the two full beds and replace Mother's with a queen size, making her bedroom the new guest room -- and making my sewing/crafting/office/guest room just "Studio Sydney."

I have no plans to make any other changes to my mother's bedroom; no painting, no replacing of curtains, still not removing clothing from the closet, not replacing any other furniture -- just replacing the bed. (Which, frankly, she talked about doing last year.)

My husband and I dragged the two full beds out of the rooms and into our family room. The next day, a friend with two children who have grown out of their bunk beds came for them.
I was good with that.
After my friend picked up the beds, my husband and I set out on a mission to buy a new queen size bed, bring it home in the back of the big-ass pick up truck and set it up. But, because I seem to welcome new drama, the purchase became an ordeal as we vacillated over the decision to buy a new bed for us and put ours in Mother's room, or just buy a less expensive bed for her room and leave it at that. Four hours later, and visits to more than five other mattress stores in the area, we made the decision to buy a new Stearns & Foster (yippee) for us and put ours in Mother's room. It would be delivered at the end of the week.
I was good with that.

Until we got home.

I went into my mom's old bedroom and her scent hit me light a ton of bricks.
I relished in it, though; sat there in the middle of her floor and soaked it in.
It felt good.

That afternoon, I began reorganizing "Studio Sydney," removing anything and everything that doesn't have anything to do with sewing, crafting, art, creativity - you get the picture. That meant the old domino effect had taken over. Now there were things piling up in Mother's living room that would have to be reorganized and put away, and when I ran out of room in there, it spilled over into the breakfast room.

For two days, as I've worked feverishly to sort through things and downsize,  I've smelled her. And for two days I've wondered why I was such an emotional wreck -- again. I was riding that "missing mom" wave, and it completely drained me this time. I cried and cried all day yesterday and last night. Completely distraught, I decided to take a break last evening and sit outside on our back porch, and that's when everything became very clear to me.

Two bright red cardinals, Mom's favorite bird and the first ones I've seen this season, landed on the branch of a tree in front of me, firing up the landscape (as Mary Oliver would say). For at least the past 20 years or so, Mother and I have called the first cardinal of the season Aunt Anna Louise, after her oldest sister who passed away about then. Yesterday when there were two of them right in front of me, it calmed me and put me in a much better place. For sure, it was Mom and her sister.
When I went back in the house to resume my quest to find organization - "it" hit me. Like Mom's scent had done, "it" also hit me like a ton of bricks. Mom was roaming the halls, because just like me, she can't stand when things are out of order...and things were definitely out of order: no bed in her room, boxes of stuff piled five-feet high in her living room, the broom, mop and dust rag laying on the floor, etc.

She was just as discombobulated as I.

Last night I promised her the mess would be gone by the end of the day today and a new bed would be in her room by the end of the week. When I got home from work, her scent was lingering, as if she was standing over me while I finished the task. And finish it, I did.
I'm so pleased with the outcome, and really glad it has turned out to be another learning experience for me as I grapple with my loneliness for my best friend and mentor.

A view of my newly re-organized "Studio Sydney" with Mom's chair, side table and lamp taken from her living room, my quilt made from her clothes on the back of the chair, and a pillow made by my mother. I love it all, except those pesky computer wires.

I love you, Mom. I'm sure your next visit will be where you tell me you're okay.

Red bird came all winter,
firing up the landscape

as nothing else could.

Of course I love the sparrows,

those dun-colored darlings
so hungry and so many.
I am a God-fearing feeder of birds.
I know He has many children,
not all of them bold in spirit.
Still, for whatever reason —
perhaps because the winter is so long
and the sky so black-blue,
or perhaps because the heart narrows
as often as it opens —
I am glad
that red bird comes all winter,
firing up the landscape
as nothing else can do.
-- Mary Oliver