When little boys tell their Dads that girls are "gross..."  Their Dads nod and smile those knowing smiles...because they know....

When the underclassmen proclaim that THEY will never act the way that the upperclassmen act when they are that age.... Their teachers stand back.. smiling and nodding.  Because we know....

When young brides and grooms-to-be talk about what THEIR marriage will be like.... those who have been married for years... THEY know...

Expectant parents... those who proclaim that THEY will have delightful children who sleep through the night, and only in their own beds....children who speak French and are so polite and well behaved... Those of us sleep-deprived co-sleepers who have rotten little heathens...  We smile and nod... because we know.

When my mom pictured being there as her grandsons grew up, graduated from college... and became professional atheletes who were ballroom dancing doctors in the off-season...  When she thought of beautiful Kyleigh... walking down the aisle as a blushing bride... right before being elected our first female President...

I wonder... did God sit back and nod...and smile that knowing smile?

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.