When we lost Mom, it was hard on a lot of my friends--those who knew her, and even those who didn't.

It was hard on my friends that knew her, because many of them had known her since we were in elementary school.  A lot of them would get Christmas cards from her, stop by her desk to say hello, or see her powerwalking on her lunch hour. 

It was hard on them because she was still a part of their life.

It was hard on my friends who didn't know her or had met her just briefly too.  It was hard for them because they love me, and because I'm part of their life.

But I think what was hardest on both groups is that it was such a shock.  I think next to the fear of losing a child, the thought of losing a parent has to be one of the scariest things we face... and something that we fear for a long long time.

My friends are mostly my age.  Meaning that their parents are close in age to my Mom.

If it can happen to my Mom... it could happen to theirs.

That's scary for them!

I remember counting down anxiously with my friend until we both turned 21.  We laughed about that earlier this month we she turned a little more than 21.  Where have the years gone?  When did we get old enough to be burying our parents?

Mom's death made many of my friends realize how fragile life can be.  The silver lining of her death is that so many of my friends have told me that they were drawn closer to their own parents. 

With the death of my friend's father.  I'm starting to realize, that more and more THIS will become the norm.  We will continue to age, our parents will too, and soon EVERYONE will have to say goodbye to their parents.

Life (and I guess death) goes on. 

Suttie stopped being Baby Suttie when Baby Owen was born.... Keegers was Baby Keegers until Suttie was born...

Mom stopped being the breaking news story when someone else's parent took over that role.  For someone who shied away from being the center of attention... I don't think Mom would have minded staying in that limelight for a little longer... if it meant that someone else didn't have to be.

I'm Sorry--Welcome to the Club

I just got off the phone with one of my oldest and dearest friends.  She knows me as well as or better than anyone, has seen me at my absolute worst, and yet loves me all the same.

My heart broke into a few more pieces with the news that she just lost her father.

I couldn't even process what she was telling me for a few minutes.

While there is comfort in numbers, this is one situation where I had hoped to stay alone.  I don't WANT people to know what I've felt.  I don't WANT people to read, and nod their head in understanding. 

I wish this were a MUCH more exclusive club...

When Mom died, I told a few of my cousins, "When your mom(s) died, I felt terrible for you, but now I understand."

They hated that I understood in the same way that I hate that my friend now understands.

Pidge, I love you.  You know that I will be here at any time you need, and can be THERE when you need me too.  I will send prayers for you and your family, and I will pray that God allows my mom to chair the Welcoming Committee.

Teaching an old dog new tricks

The boys and I were able to go "home" this weekend and spend time with Dad, Karri, Lindsey and families.  Dylan and Ky have grown a foot since Christmas I'm sure... and Baby Owen... man we love Baby Owen!

Going home now is especially bittersweet.  I feel comfortable there like I do no other place, I know the sounds and smells of that house.  I know where everything goes.  I can sleep there like it's going out of style.  But it's different now.

This was the first time I had been there since the chaos of the funeral and the holidays.  During those times, there was so much to do, and so little time to get it done.  This time, we had no agenda, no place we had to be... we just were "there."

And more than ever I realized that Mom wasn't ever going to be there again, and it still just blows my mind.

When she would go to bed during one of our visits, she always told Keegers and Suttie to make sure that they came upstairs to wake her up in the morning.  Sometimes they would, sometimes they wouldn't.  On the mornings that they didn't, she would creep down the stairs, get on all fours, crawl around the corner into the living room, and scare them.  They LOVED it.  SHE loved it.  It was one of their "things."  She wasn't there to do that this time. 

I'm in a state of "waiting" the whole time I'm there.  I'm waiting to hear her open the door, I'm waiting to hear her call the boys, I'm waiting for it to be normal again. 

It's never going to be normal again.  Seeing my dad doing the dishes is not normal.  Hearing him talk about doing the laundry is not normal.  Teaching him how to use a crockpot is not normal.

I guess I need to stop waiting for things to be normal again.  I need to start finding the "new" normal. 

I don't know how to do that.  I don't WANT to do that.  But just like Dad is learning all these things, I guess I'm going to have to start to try to learn something new myself.

Leaving Pink and Gray and Purple...and Going Red

I've always been a supporter of Breast Cancer research.  I'm sure lots of that has to do with the fact that we lost Mom's sister Sheila to that horrible disease in 1999 at the age of 50.  I've clicked on websites to give  mamograms for the less fortunate.  I thought it was great when the NFL or MLB went pink for a game.  I've bought t-shirts, and jewelry and coffee mugs.  I bought Mom socks and fleeces and note pads.

I'm not going to lie, part of it was because I look REALLY good in pink (and so did Mom)

After we lost Mom's sister Nancy to a brain tumor, Mom felt guilty just supporting breast cancer awareness.  She felt that she should give equally to those causes supporting Brain Tumor Research.  If you aren't aware, their ribbon is Gray.

I'm not going to lie... I don't look nearly as good in gray (and neither did Mom) so I didn't buy much in the Brain Cancer research apparel.

Mom instead tried to support the Relay for Life because she felt that it was a little more equally supportive to both of her sisters.  So instead of just the pink ribbons, she tried to do a little more with the purple ribbons.

I'm not going to lie... Mom and I look pretty good in purple too. 

But after all of this... after realizing now when I go to the doctor and discuss my family history... it's not nearly as unnearving to discuss my Aunts having cancer as it is with having a Dad with high blood pressure, knowing that his parents died from a heart attack and and stroke, and that mom had heart issues for ten years before her death... well it seems that maybe I need to be paying a little more attention to research dealing with the heart.

I've been a little dissapointed thus far in my Heart Disease Awareness Research apparel selections.    With the millions and millions (and I don't think that's much of an exageration) of "Pink" goods... there is just NOTHING cute in the "Go Red" campaign. 

Heart Disease is the leading cause of death for women AND men in the U.S.  Doesn't that warrant a little more notice?  Where's my cute fleece?  Where are my adorable T-shirt? 

If you find them. PLEASE let me know...

Because don't I look decent enough in Red?

For my Mom, I'd wear Pea Green with Fushia Polka Dots

Heaven Can Wait

Every night, my very good friend Holly prays for me.  She prays that God allows Mom to wrap her arms around me and my family.  She prayers that we are able to feel those arms, and that they bring us comfort, love and peace.

How blessed are we, that months later, people are still thinking of us and praying for us so much.

We feel those prayers.  They are what have gotten us through this.

But more importantly, I feel those arms around me, and I feel the comfort that only a mother can give.

I am selfish.

At a time when my adoring Mom should be enjoying her heavenly rewards... I'm still playing the "Poor Sara" card and making her stay here to take care of me. 

Because that's what she's done my whole life. 

I do feel badly though, about making her feel like she is tied here, still needing to take care of us as she's always done. 

But like Holly said, "Heaven is for an eternity.  It can wait for her."

I tend to agree. 

I think time on earth probably moves more like extreme "Dog Years".  Like a few years here, will only seem like a minute or two in Heaven.

I really DO want Mom to be able to settle in to Heaven and have Pina Coladas with her sisters.  The last thing I want to do is make my Mom feel guilty for leaving us, when I know if they choice had been hers she would have stayed.

I am selfish.  Mom loved to feel needed though.  And I'm not done needing her.  So really... aren't I just being a good daughter?

Sometimes, you have to kill the messenger.

As I go about my day, I have constant reminders of my mom. 

When I brush my teeth, I think about the fact that she brushed using warm water, because the cold hurt her teeth.  Or that she left the water running the ENTIRE time... full speed.

When I put on deodorant, I think of the fact that she wore roll on Ban deodorant my (and her) entire life.

When I eat my breakfast, I think of the sound of her stirring her chocolate milk.

When I put the boys in their carseats, I can hear her asking me to show her how they work, because she will "need to know how to do it"

I can hear comments that she made when I put on a shirt she liked, or wear my hair pulled up.

When I bathe the boys and smell the Johnson's shampoo, I think of her.

I can hear what she would have said when I see a certain pair of shoes, or things that the boys say.

I can touch things, see things, hear things, smell things, and think of her.

I'm not crazy.  I'm not hearing voices.  It's not all the time.  And it's not always bad.  Infact, it's usually pretty comforting to have those moments of her "living" with me.

But this morning I woke up, and I saw my house phone.  And bad memories flooded me.

I saw that phone, and flashed to December 1st, when the boys were in the bath.  It's the phone that I answered when Karri called me on her way to Mom and Dad's house to see if I had heard from mom.  It's the phone I called Aunt Darla on, to tell her I thought something was wrong with my mom.  It's the phone I called Clint and Mary on to tell them I thought they might have to take care of Aunt Darla.  It's the phone that rang as James and I sat on our bed trying to figure out what to pack and when to leave and to try to cling to hope.

It's the phone that called to tell me my mom was gone.

I've thought about it all day. 

I don't mind having the reminders of her "living" with me.  What I don't need are the reminders of her dying.  I think I've got that one covered.

I know you aren't supposed to shoot the messenger, but that phone has GOT to go.

I've always loved getting the mail. 

When I was young, I looked forward to anything that had my name on it.  Even the Pizza Hut card that always said "Sura" instead of "Sara."  I loved getting product samples in the mail.  I loved anytime there was anything personal in there.  I would try to figure out who had sent it just be looking at the writing, and then see when it was sent by looking at the postmark.

When I got into college, I checked my mail everyday without fail. 

As an adult, I was upset when I couldn't get to the Post Office before they closed, watched for the mailman on Saturday, and was a little upset on Sunday that there wouldn't be mail that day. 
So maybe I was a bit obsessed.

I hate checking the mail now.

It's not the bills that we get (most of those get emailed to me anyway).  Infact, there is nothing IN the mailbox that upsets me.  It's what ISN'T in there that makes me sad.

It's Valentine's Day.  And I know that I can wait and wait, and I won't have a Valentine from my Mom.

Mom FED my mail obsession.  Seldom a week went by that I didn't have something from her in there to open (even when I lived down the road from her!).  I would get it and know right away by her elegant script who it was from.  More often than not, it was a newspaper clipping that she had seen that she thought I might be interested in, or an article from a magazine, or a receipt from a deposit she had made for me. 

Even if I would wonder WHY she had sent it to me,  or tossed it in the trash with little thought, I knew in that moment that she had been thinking of me.  She had taken the time to cut it out, address it, and put it in the mail for me.

Instead of a Gold Crown, Hallmark should have had a picture of my mom on their labels, because she spent as much there as anyone!

I hate getting the mail now.  I hate knowing that those silly little clippings aren't going to be there.  I hate knowing that another holiday or birthday has passed without her.  I hate that Suttie won't get a "Congratulations on Being Potty-Trained" card like Keegers did. 

I hate everything about it.

Watching Oprah with the ladies of The View.

Last year Barbara Walters had heart surgery.  She's now "81 and going strong"

No disrespect to Barbara, but how is that fair when my Mom is 63... and dead.

Take it... take another little piece of my heart...

In 1551, a French military surgeon named Ambroise Pare' was the first to document a phenomenon called "phantom limb pain." Pare' said that, “For the patients, long after the amputation is made, say that they still feel pain in the amputated part”


It's been reported that as many as 80% of those who have had an amputation experience phantom pains at some time in their life.  Even though they know that the limb is gone, there are times they still feel it's there.  They feel it move, or itch, or hurt.


As Harvey Danger said so eloquently, "They cut off my legs now I'm an amputee, Goddamn you."


I know in my heart and in my head that my Mom is gone.  But there are times that I can put it out of my mind and almost "forget".  I go about my day, living my life without a care in the world, and then the pain hits me again.  In that moment, it's like I have tried to take a step, forgetting that one of my legs is no longer there. 

They say that depending on where the limb or body part was located affects how much more likely a person will be to have the phantom pains.  It's much more likely if the limb is on the upper part of your body that you will experience these pains, but luckily the pains seem to decrease with time.

When my mom died, she took pieces of our hearts with her...

I wonder how long we'll still feel the pain in those parts. 

My boys have never been great sleepers, and the last few month's turmoil has not helped that in any way.  In Indiana, we were going to bed at midnight, them sleeping right next to us.  Since we've been back... we just haven't had the energy to fight them, so more often than not... they end up in our bed. 

But it's a tough habit to break, and makes leaving them overnight for any reason tough.

It wasn't an issue of trust, we just felt bad making anyone deal with getting them to sleep... or to stay asleep. 

Finally in October we got brave... or maybe just desperate.  We were invited to go back to one of James' former commands to attend the Navy Ball, so we asked Mom if she would be willing to keep the boys overnight.

She pretty much said she would clear her calendar (and Dad's) to do it.  Her turn down a chance to spend time with "Grandma's Doll Babies?"  Yeah, right.  They got to go and pick out pumpkins, drink lots and lots of chocolate milk... and eat M & Ms...

The next morning, I called to see how it had went.

Mom lied.

She said it was all fine... but I think she was afraid that if she told me the truth I'd never leave them there with her again.  Lindsey ratted her out though!

It seems that some point after placing Sutton in his pack in play near the sewing machine... he got some thread wrapped around his neck!  That freaked Mom out enough that she took him to the recliner to sleep with her there.  Which would have gone well if he hadn't rolled out of the chair!

I know she must have said "Oh Hells Bells!"

I've thought of that weekend lots lately.

My Mom HATED the thought of us letting the boys "Cry it Out"  "I never made you girls cry it out."  So that hasn't helped me move forward with the sleep training the last couple of months either.  And I'll be perfectly honest... I've needed the boys with me.

Last night, Keegers cried and cried to sleep in my bed.  I finally let him... but I refused to let him lay on my arm.  (I was standing firm on this at least) I even turned my back to him... twice.  Only to have him get out of bed... twice... and walk around to the other side so I was facing him... twice.

I gave up.  He cuddled up, laid on my arm, and went right to sleep.

And then I cried.

How DARE I try to deny those boys the one thing I want myself?  More time with my Mom.  Every single DAY I wish I had had a few more minutes for her to hold me in her arms. 

I won't ever have that again.  But I can still give that time to my boys. 

I KNOW we have to get them sleeping in their beds.  I KNOW it... and I will do it.

But right now... it just doesn't seem to matter all that much in the bigger scheme of things. 

Signs, signs, Everywhere Signs...

Since it happened... Dad has maintained that "this" was in the works a long time ago... maybe even 63 years ago.

Hindsight is 20/20, right?

I'm reading trying to read a book that my very good friend Tami sent me, called The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion about the sudden loss of her husband.  Early on, there is a passage from Philippe Aries from The Hour of Our Death... "death, even if sudden or accidental, 'gives advance warning of its arrival... "only the dying man can tell how much time he has left."

Did my mom know her time here was coming to an end?

On some level did WE know her time was coming to an end?

Their trip to the Dominican Republic had been put off for months... and even though she wasn't sure her bosses would be happy with the timing... Mom took the her vacation time... and they had a great time.

When she got home... she took a trip with her sister to see my Grandpa Walter.  When she got home, I asked how Grandpa was.  "Oh Sara, we had THE BEST time!"  And then she said... "and if something happened tomorrow... I would be fine with it."

At the time... I'm sure she meant if something happened to Grandpa.... but what if she didn't?  What if the forces were already in the works?

When I had gotten my hair cut and colored right before the holidays... it was blonder than I expected... and blonder than it had been in awhile.  But my mom always loved my hair blond... as silly as it sounds... did that happen for a reason?

The morning of Black Friday... Mom and I both commented to James that we "didn't care about the shopping, it was just about hanging out."  I am so glad we able to have that day.

But how far back do we go?  Days, weeks, years?

Suttie was born early... was that to give him more time with her?  Karri was born early too.... were the forces there back then?

We could get lost in looking for the signs.  And they would be different for all of us... 

But now, I know why the Friday before Thanksgiving, I drove into school, and sat in my car and cried.  I had this overwhelming NEED to be home.  I was homesick like I hadn't been since I was in Europe at age 18.  I sat there, and cried because we were here... so far from the ones who love us most.

Some unseen force made sure that even though Suttie had a fever when we loaded him in the car... we went.

After this crash course, will we recognize the signs the next time?  When it's Dad's time... or James'... or someone else I love so much...Will everything fall into place again so that no one is mad, or fighting... everyone is just happy to have that time together?

One time, some friends of ours went with us down south to see my grandparents.  Mom and Dad explained that when we got to a certain "mile marker" we would be there... so one of the girls kept watch... Years later, Mom and Dad would still laugh about when Haley said, "Wow... down here the miles go really fast!"

We can see the signs leading up to losing Mom so clearly now in the rearview mirror.  But maybe we aren't supposed to see the signs until after they are past.  Maybe they aren't really meant to be caution or warning signs as much as just mile markers.  And there at the end... they start to go really fast.

Dad Movies

When we were growing up we would go to the local hardware/video store and tell the woman there that we needed a movie for us... and what we called a "Dad Movie."

Dad movies had to be something we could watch on our one tv that Dad wouldn't shut off and break the vhs... Basically no cussing, and DEFINTELY no F-Words.  I'll never forget the time a couple of friends came over after school and we started watching some terrible Stallone movie...(I know... I would need to be more specific as to which terrible Stallone movie).  Dad walked in early from work, heard about one line of dialogue... and that was enough.  Movie time was over.... and Dad wasn't real subtle about it. 

Once on vacation years ago at some friend's house... they had rented the movie "Fatal Attraction...." Awkward!

Defintely NOT a Dad movie...

Thankfully Mom and Dad pretty much watched one movie a year, usually on New Years Eve, so if we found a good movie in March... we kept it in mind for the holiday.

But like so many things in the last 2 months.  (Yes, it's been 2 months today) The term "Dad Movie" has changed.  Just like I can no longer watch shows where someone gets a chest tube after getting one myself, or watch a movie where a parent loses a child... Dad is having a hard time watching movies where someone loses their spouse. 

Poor Lindsey... she is going to be snowed in with Dad and Baby Owen.  And since they don't have cable...so she thought that she would take dad a good "war movie" to watch.... Braveheart.  Which would have been perfect if not for the tragic loss of William's lovely bride.

The last two movies I saw with my dad in the theatre were 8 Seconds "He's ridin for Lane now!" and Titanic.  Sadly... Dad was a little confused as to what was going to happen in Titanic... I think he thought it was a documentary.  After we walked out, he gave his typical line, "well that sucked" and then said, "Now I remember why we don't go to the movies!" 

So Lindsey, Dad, and I have started gathering a list of OTHER movies that Lindsey could have brought...

"What Dreams May Come"
"Olde Yeller"
"PS. I Love You"
Bambi... (that one was Dad's...)

Feel free to offer MORE suggestions.