One Year Later
I've been dreading this day. I knew today would have a notification that would pop up telling me I had Facebook memories. I knew I wouldn't be able to resist looking. I knew I would cry. And I did exactly that. But I managed to wait until after 8pm to give in. I already knew what the memories would show me.
It was one year ago today that I started living a life that was so much different. One without my mom physically present. Today marks the day that the Facebook memories will start changing. For the next three months I will see memories that will show me the journey that almost took my dad too. And for the last 2 weeks I've been antsy and emotional. Living through a quarantine doesn't help.
I'm not a patient person. And I like to just push through hard things when I can. This is another First. And I want it to be over. I want the next few months to be over too. Mother's Day and Mom and Dad's anniversary and Mom's Birthday. And the Facebook memories that will pop up to remind me of the daily updates I made about Dad's fight for his life in the ICU.
I am glad to have learned all of the things I did while going through all of it. I'm grateful that I was able to be there for my Dad. That I could hold his hand, speak for him, stand there and look him in the eye when he was going through horrible treatments, so he could see someone, anyone other than doctors and nurses. And that's more than others are experiencing right now with the current lockdowns in hospitals. I'm not taking anything away from those experiences, I don't wish away the weeks I spent with my family in Pennsylvania.
And I don't want to turn off the memories. I like to see how far we have all come, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit they don't hurt too. It's like poking a bruise. You know it's going to hurt, but you can't resist doing it anyway. The next 3 months are likely going to be one big non stop poke.
For what it's worth, we are doing pretty well all in all. The factory Mike works at is closed for the stay at home order, but I'm working. The kids are surviving eLearning, although it sucks for our eldest, since she is a senior. We got killer deals on new cars (new to us on one and brand new on another) so we no longer are freaking out about our higher mileage vehicles, and we have been able to finally spend time together as a family. I've been working from home a few days a week. We have been doing projects around the house. We have been cooking together and in general harassing one another. We have had "date nights" that consist of getting drive thru and driving around talking. All in all, we are ok.
There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about Mom. That there isn't something I don't want to ask her, or tell her. Something that I want to make for her or buy for her. Some stupid anecdotal thing I want to share because I know she would get a kick out of it. But I know she would be proud that I'm still laughing and doing my best. I screw shit up all of the time. But I still try. And I still laugh way more than I cry.
For instance, today I managed to knock a bag of giant gumballs out of the cabinet. They fell into a cup of red kool-aid mixed with lemonade that spilled all over the counter top. While I was cleaning all of the nasty, sticky, staining red gloop up, I managed to smack the top of my head into the corner of the still open cabinet door. This was all happening while I was trying to cook dinner with the "assistance" of my husband. And by "assistance", I mean he stood nearby asking inane questions while offering no real help. And when I smacked my head squarely into the corner of the cabinet door, his observation was, "You're not having a very good evening, are you, Wife?" Nope, it's a grand day, why would you say such a thing? I didn't say that, I stayed quiet. I can't trust my mouth or my brain in such circumstances. Mom would have gotten a kick out of that. She would have made a comment about men that would likely have had me snorting. She probably would have had a story to tell on Dad. Mom was good like that. I'm sure that it was a very entertaining sight. In fact, I'll likely find this story quite funny in a couple of days, but while the top of my head still hurts, I'm not finding all of the available humor just yet. She would have made sure I found the funny faster. There is no replacing her. And while the holes she left will never go away, a year later, I'm learning how to navigate without her just a touch better.
It was one year ago today that I started living a life that was so much different. One without my mom physically present. Today marks the day that the Facebook memories will start changing. For the next three months I will see memories that will show me the journey that almost took my dad too. And for the last 2 weeks I've been antsy and emotional. Living through a quarantine doesn't help.
I'm not a patient person. And I like to just push through hard things when I can. This is another First. And I want it to be over. I want the next few months to be over too. Mother's Day and Mom and Dad's anniversary and Mom's Birthday. And the Facebook memories that will pop up to remind me of the daily updates I made about Dad's fight for his life in the ICU.
I am glad to have learned all of the things I did while going through all of it. I'm grateful that I was able to be there for my Dad. That I could hold his hand, speak for him, stand there and look him in the eye when he was going through horrible treatments, so he could see someone, anyone other than doctors and nurses. And that's more than others are experiencing right now with the current lockdowns in hospitals. I'm not taking anything away from those experiences, I don't wish away the weeks I spent with my family in Pennsylvania.
And I don't want to turn off the memories. I like to see how far we have all come, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit they don't hurt too. It's like poking a bruise. You know it's going to hurt, but you can't resist doing it anyway. The next 3 months are likely going to be one big non stop poke.
For what it's worth, we are doing pretty well all in all. The factory Mike works at is closed for the stay at home order, but I'm working. The kids are surviving eLearning, although it sucks for our eldest, since she is a senior. We got killer deals on new cars (new to us on one and brand new on another) so we no longer are freaking out about our higher mileage vehicles, and we have been able to finally spend time together as a family. I've been working from home a few days a week. We have been doing projects around the house. We have been cooking together and in general harassing one another. We have had "date nights" that consist of getting drive thru and driving around talking. All in all, we are ok.
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| My fancy brand new car |
There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about Mom. That there isn't something I don't want to ask her, or tell her. Something that I want to make for her or buy for her. Some stupid anecdotal thing I want to share because I know she would get a kick out of it. But I know she would be proud that I'm still laughing and doing my best. I screw shit up all of the time. But I still try. And I still laugh way more than I cry.
For instance, today I managed to knock a bag of giant gumballs out of the cabinet. They fell into a cup of red kool-aid mixed with lemonade that spilled all over the counter top. While I was cleaning all of the nasty, sticky, staining red gloop up, I managed to smack the top of my head into the corner of the still open cabinet door. This was all happening while I was trying to cook dinner with the "assistance" of my husband. And by "assistance", I mean he stood nearby asking inane questions while offering no real help. And when I smacked my head squarely into the corner of the cabinet door, his observation was, "You're not having a very good evening, are you, Wife?" Nope, it's a grand day, why would you say such a thing? I didn't say that, I stayed quiet. I can't trust my mouth or my brain in such circumstances. Mom would have gotten a kick out of that. She would have made a comment about men that would likely have had me snorting. She probably would have had a story to tell on Dad. Mom was good like that. I'm sure that it was a very entertaining sight. In fact, I'll likely find this story quite funny in a couple of days, but while the top of my head still hurts, I'm not finding all of the available humor just yet. She would have made sure I found the funny faster. There is no replacing her. And while the holes she left will never go away, a year later, I'm learning how to navigate without her just a touch better.
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