I've had it!

I think I've been sick for an entire month. A month. With only maybe a day or so of feeling normal.

Today I've been wracked with stomach pain. I don't know what I ate, or did. But I'm tired of this.

So, I don't know if it's going to help, but it's time to make some health resolutions:

#1. Stop smoking.

You have no idea how hard this is. To quit smoking is the hardest thing ever, but...whenever I smoke I feel like crap. Whenever I don't smoke, I feel like crap. And I have the feeling theat if I stopped smoking, I would feel 500% better. So...today at 5:30 p.m. I had my last cigarette. That's it. I've had it. No more.

#2. Drink water.

I have a feeling that my body is waiving the white flag and surrendering because I refuse to take care of it. So next thing to do, is to drink more water. I bet my body is extremely dehydrated, especially while I'm sick, and it's time I took care of it.

#3. Eat healthier.

The last few months, I've been eating like crap. My old habits have been working their way back into my eating life. It's time to start eating more vegetables and less fat.

#4. Exercise.

I can start off small on this one. I have a friend that has invited me to yoga on Tuesday. Hopefully, by the grace of God, I will feel better by then.

Ugh! My stomach and head are killing me. But I'm going to stick with these and hope that everything gets better. Wish me luck.

Sting

It's weird how things just hit you out of the blue.

R's brother gave him a free ticket to see The Police the other day. So after a little discussion, K purchased two more tickets so we all three of us could go. I had always wanted to see Sting in concert, and now, I got to see a band I never thought I would see in a million years. I should have been more excited, but the first concert they had that was shown live on tv was not that good, so I was afraid of being disappointed.

Today started out rough. I won't go into detail, but by the time we bundled into the car to go to the concert, I was hesitant and just plain tired.

We got to the venue and found our seats. The location was good, the weather was pretty nice, and Elvis Costello was opening. Elvis was pretty entertaining and at one point I turned over to R and told him I was glad we all three went.

Then the lights dimmed and The Police took the stage. The first song I made it through okay. Then it hit me.

Memories of singing and dancing to Sting and the Police while I lived with my mom came flooding into my head. The tears threatened to start and I just looked straight on, singing the words from heart, willing myself to stop feeling.

What I didn't realize before I agreed to go, and was suddenly becoming realization, was that Sting and The Police had gotten me through a lot of rough patches in my life. They were tied to my mom, my emotional high school years, my marriage. The Beatles for me had been an introduction to my hippie nature, my calm resolve for understanding, peace, and love. But The Police...they had been my therapy for yearning, heartache, and deep frustration. When I sang a Police song, I sang it with every fiber of my being. Connecting with the loneliness and frustration of missed opportunities and unachieved dreams.

Mental images leapt between my mother and the deep loneliness that pervaded most of my life. I thought of all the dreams I had...to travel, to be successful, to be strong. And then was immediately followed by all the disappointment and darkness that saturated my life up until this point.

I kept telling myself to be strong. To be resilient. But the emotions kept flooding in. Through it all I kept looking forward, not wanting the roommates to know what hell I was going through. I thought they'd had a rough day as it was, they didn't need to worry about me and honestly, some demons you had to deal with alone.

At one point, I excused myself and headed towards the restrooms. I thought I had finally got my emotions under control when I was walking. I just needed to relieve myself and freshen up. I wanted to look happy when the lights finally came up.

But once in the restroom, in the stall, with the bare white bathroom door to look at, I started thinking of my mother once again. Thought about how I missed her. How I wish I had been there more for her. How I wished I could just hold her.

When people say they wished they could hold someone they missed one last time, it's utter bullshit. I wish I could hold her everyday. I wish I could go and visit whenever I wanted to. And no matter how often you visited someone. No matter how close. You still wished you had visited them more. Showed them more affection. More attention.

I got back to my seat and still tried to gain control of everything. By the last song, I was able to stop crying but just felt wasted and drained. As we walked out, R asked if I was okay. I briefly deliberated over whether I would just lie and cover it up, but I felt that would only be cheating myself and our friendship. So I told the truth, I just blurted, "Yeah, I just miss my mom." He asked me to repeat myself because he couldn't hear my low-pitched whisper. To which I said louder, "Yeah, I miss my mom." I could hear the sympathy in his voice, but I was near tears again, I just wanted to go home and crawl into bed and be done with the night. We climbed towards the car and I sunk into the leather, staring out the window.

It was complete silence. I didn't want an awkward ride home, so I figured I'd break the ice first. I blurted out, "Was Sting wearing a mesh shirt?" To which R laughed and K exclaimed yes. That got the conversation rolling. I breathed a sigh of relief. I stayed pretty much quiet in the back, but their banter back and forth was cathartic.

As we arrived home, I just felt worn out.

I do feel a bit better now, but I'll never forget the first night I finally and truly felt the absence of my mom.

Brief Rant

Okay, I have a report that needs to get out for Accounting by the first weekday of every month. This day is extremely busy and when I first started this report, it would get out maybe every third business day, due to many different reasons.

Last month I got it out on the first day. Accounting had an issue with a check. I had to wait for them to correct it, and then I revised the report and resent it out. However, I felt proud that I finally got that report done on the 1st business day.

May was another deal altogether. Considering everything going on (May 1st being the day my mother passed away), I did call my boss and let her know what was going on and then racked my brain for what reports were due before going back into the hospital room to watch my mom fade away. I remembered the Accounting report and let my boss know and ask for an extension. She replied no problem.

My mother's funeral was the 5th. On the 6th, at exactly 3:31 p.m. (while I'm still on bereavement leave mind you) I sent the report. So three business days later.

I come in this morning to find the following email:

I know we have requested in the past that this report be delivered to us on the second business day of each month, but it doesn't always come that early. Is there any way it can be put on the calendar for Work Day 2? It is very important that I get this report by WD 2 because I need to add the info to my report and send to Corporate so they can meet their deadline for the liability submission the next morning.

Thanks for your help!

Okay, first of all, what crack is she smoking? 2nd business day = work day 2. Right?

Second of all, how dare you send an email about the report being late while I was dealing with my mom's death. (Note: I understand reports need to get done, but if that's the case why didn't she deny the freakin extension and ask us to get it done on time rather than bitch about it later?) I just want to strangle the bitch. Seriously? No, seriously? I'm usually a very professional person, but I would love....luuurrrvvvveeee...to send this report on the 3rd work day of the month from now on just to spite the fuckin bitch.

Of course, I won't do that. But I did email my boss and let her know that I was unhappy about the above email.

Still furious.

Why do I let dumb people get to me?

Are you fucking kidding me?

I just got a text from my ex-husband. Our first dog, Buster, died this morning. :-(


Sidenote:
And another oddity...my step-sister's grandmother (on her mother's side) died last weekend. What the fucking hell?

My mom

What more could I want?

I guess you go through a period of reevaluation of everything in general when you go through a traumatic experience. But in running an errand tonight, and taking in the beauty of the weather, I realized that all my life I've spent wanting more than what I have. Some of these wants were warranted, and others maybe, not so much.

However, at this point in my life, I had to ponder, "What more could I really want?"

Part of this was instigated by my thinking on dating right now. I had one potential before everything happened with my mother. When she entered the hospital and I saw that this visit was more involved than all the others previous, I told him I would not be able to see him anymore. Then when my mother passed, I made a conscious decision not to date for awhile. (I'm afraid that intentionally or unintentionally I'll end up in a serious relationship just to be with someone. In my fragile emotional state, I could end up in a very bad situation.)

However, after thinking about it some more, I realized, that being the kind of girl that's constantly on the prowl or looking for a suitor, is just not me. I don't want to spend another moment of my life being depressed over not having someone to date, or cuddle, or be physical with. 

I know some people who read this might think of this in a shocked manner. However, this wanting is not healthy. At all. 

I have everything I need in life right now. Why would I spend another moment in my life sullen over a situation I can not control? Why do we feel like we're incomplete if we don't have a boyfriend/girlfriend/lover/spouse in our life? It's a nice additional benefit to life, I won't deny that. But it's not necessary. Like winning the lottery. I'd be happy if I won it, but I'm not going to be depressed for a week when I lose and the next numbers are called. 

This also applies to all aspects of my life. Why would I want for anything at all? I have a comfortable home. Wonderful friends. Good family. A satisfying job. What more could I really want?

So I've made a mental resolution to not want anymore. I will focus on the areas of my life that are fulfilling and that I can control. Such as my performance at work. My Toastmasters goals. And spending more time with loved ones, including personal time for myself. 

I will be stronger person. I will be that woman I once was. Proud and dedicated and happy. 

What kind of title do you give an entry like this?

Yesterday morning, I was feeling pretty good. I had received no phone call, I had finished a few work projects and my cold was going away. I started to get ready when I received a phone call from my grandmother. She informed me that she received a phone call from the hospital and that my mother had gotten worse. Still having my cold, I knew I couldn't visit her, but I told my grandmother to call me if anything happened.

I left for work and stopped at the drugstore and then my mind actually kicked into gear. I started thinking about how my grandmother sounded and realized that the situation did not look good. I rushed back home, picked up my laptop, and called my boss. I figured if anything happened, I didn't want to be so much as 5 minutes away from the hospital.

I arrived at the hospital and walked to ICU. I walked up to her room, figuring I'd find my grandmother and aunt there, but all I found was a nurse standing by my mom's bedside and holding her hand. I spoke to another nurse who was actually assigned to my mother, and she told me that my mother was doing much worse and that my mother didn't have much longer. I asked about my cold and the she told me to just put a mask on and go ahead in.

I put on the surgical mask and greeted the nurse standing by my mother's bed. Her name was Pam and in the short time my mother had been in the hospital, they had grown close. She repeated over and over again how glad she was that I was there then left me alone with my mother.

I walked to her bedside and was astounded at horrible she looked. It could have been worse. She had only a few tubes and a large oxygen mask, but she couldn't speak and her breath was shallow and quick. I didn't know what to do or say for the first few minutes. I just held her hand and smoothed her hair. Then I told her that I loved her. And tried to muster up all my strength not to cry in front of my mother. Unfortunately I failed that one small task.

Within about 10 minutes, my aunt and grandmother arrived. I moved aside so that my grandmother, more importantly her mother, could hold her hand and be there for her. You could tell she was aware of what was going on, but she couldn't respond.

The doctor arrived. He gathered us outside and started talking about how there was really nothing else they could do. After everything she had been through, the leukemia had finally done her in. We could choose to try dialysis but it would only prolong things by maybe a week...if she survived the procedure at all. The focus now was to keep my comfortable for what remaining time she had. According to the doctor she had a day, maybe two at the most.

After who knows how long, I walked outside to make the obligatory phone calls. I called my brother, and I called my two closest friends. R came over for his lunch and kept me company until K could arrive. I was amazed at not only how quickly they came, but that they were just there in the first place. They never fail to amaze me everyday.

K and I walked back upstairs and after a few minutes my aunt and grandmother rushed to my mother's side. After a moment I caught on. This was it. All of her vital stats were saying that in the next few moments, my mother would be gone.

We gathered close, and I held my mothers hand in those last few moments. She looked horrible. Not like my mom at all. I leaned down to where her eyes were focused and then after a moment I realized...they weren't focused at all. They were blank. My mother was gone.

We stepped back from the bed and held eachother. Looking at what remained of my mother. He body still twitched with what seemed like signs of life, but apparently it was just remnants of what the machines had done for her all this time. It was a filthy trick of nature and while I knew my mother was gone, those twitches still wanted me to hold out faith.

They eventually walked us into "the room". That special room they reserve for family members for a patient who had just deceased. The phone wasn't working and the table was wobbly. A woman rushed in and gave us a packet of information. It included a brief paragraph or two on grieving and what to do with the body. After deliberating awhile, we finally decided to have my mom's body cremated.

Everything after that was a mix of emotions. We went to Macayos. We ate. We talked. And then we went home. That night I had a few drinks and more food with a couple of close friends from Toastmasters. Then K and I went to Wal-Mart. While I was there I decided to purchase something to commemorate my mother's passing away. I decided on earrings that were my mother's birthstones...blue topaz. And then I purchased a necklace for my grandmother in the same color. We stopped by her house and checked on her. She seemed to be holding up fine.

When I got home and went to bed, I spied out of the corner of my eye a ceramic figurine my mom had made. It was two angels, one a woman and the other a child. My mother had painted it so the adult angel had brown hair and the younger, red. It signified my mother and I. I yanked it out, and held it for a moment. Then told my mother one last goodbye and that I loved her.

I cried a few moments and then pulled out my bible. After reading for a few moments, I thought about my mom and where she is now. And realized that she was in a much better place. And that she would be very upset if she saw how sad I was. Then I made a conscious decision to be happy for my mom. That I knew she wouldn't suffer anymore and that she really was in a better place. We had spoken about it before. We both had agreed that as Christians we felt death should be celebrated. It should be a joyous time.

Everytime I think of my mom now, I think of her reunited with old loved ones and being surrounded by extreme love and light. And then I think about the question my best-friend posed right after she had passed, "I wonder how many cats your mom's being reunited with right now?"