I just wanted to wish my mother a Happy Birthday. She would've been 51 years old. 20 years gone, 20 years older than me, but forever in our hearts.
Love,
Andrea
P.S. Thank you to Joan for putting the flowers on her grave that I couldn't...
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
My new family...the extended version
When my father remarried, I not only gained a stepmother but an new extended family as well. Uncle Billy lived in Florida, Aunt Mary and Uncle Chuck had 3 girls, Aunt Judy lived with her daughter, who was a few years older than me and her son was grown. Aunt Helen had a son and daughter, both of whom were a little on the wilder side. As much as I loved my own family and felt slightly guilty, I instantly liked Jo's family. They were fun and odd and larger than either side of my own biological family. Since there were 4 sisters (and a brother who lived far away), there was drama. Who was talking to whom, who's kids were doing well, blah blah blah. And they instantly accepted my sister and me into their family. We were referred to as nieces and never left out of the family functions. They love each other dearly.
As I talked about before, my dad and Joan were accepted and remained in the life of my mom's family. Joan's family was invited to the Thanksgiving and Easter celebrations along with my mom and dad's family. It sounds weird but it really worked. We would all gather at my house for the holidays, with everyone bringing a dish and politely mingling. The first few times were a little odd, but everyone became comfortable with each other. If someone from one side wasn't there, a person from another would ask where they were, how they were doing, etc.
When my Aunt Helen fell sick with breast cancer, I was devastated. I knew how this ended and I felt bad for her children even though they were grown. The family didn't know what they were in for. They did not know about the chemo, radiation, side effects, heartache and loss of a mother, sister, grandmother. Aunt Helen's cancer was different from my mom's. It was more aggressive and spread faster than my mom's. Aunt Helen was older (even though she was still young) when she was diagnosed and had led a lifestyle that was harsher on the body than my mom. But I loved Aunt Helen and didn't want to watch her suffering.
Aunt Helen was blessed with a beautiful baby granddaughter named Kelsea. Kelsea loved her nana and spent a lot of time with her. She lived with her at one point. Kelsea was the joy in Aunt Helen's life. She fought so hard to stay alive for her. I wanted her to be able to see Kelsea grow up- into an elementary schooler, high school graduate and mother herself. But she was not able to hang on. The cancer spread throughout her body and she succumbed to it, surrounded by her sisters. Towards the end, which was inevitable, her sisters gathered at her house. The rest of the family also came by to visit but the sisters were always there. I remember the last time I saw Aunt Helen alive. I knew from previous experience that this was going to be the last time. I said goodbye the best way I could and left the house. She died not long after.
I want to remember Aunt Helen as a laughing and smiling woman. Even though I am in no way, shape or form related to her, I was considered her niece and I considered her my aunt. I received birthday cards and hugs goodbye at the Christmas Eve parties at Aunt Judy's house.
The typical family in America no longer exists. We are comprised of single mothers, gay men or women with children and "stepfamilies". I was blessed with a stepfamily that loves me and is encouraging me to do this Walk. I think of Aunt Helen often. She is buried almost directly behind my own mother in the same cemetary. I visit her whenever I visit Mom and bring her angels for her grave and try and get rid of the weeds in the little garden in front of her plot. I pray for her and hope that she and my mom have met in Heaven. I believe that they are watching over us all and are happy that we have "blended". I walk not only for my mom, my "2nd mom" but also for my Aunt Helen. I love them all.
As I talked about before, my dad and Joan were accepted and remained in the life of my mom's family. Joan's family was invited to the Thanksgiving and Easter celebrations along with my mom and dad's family. It sounds weird but it really worked. We would all gather at my house for the holidays, with everyone bringing a dish and politely mingling. The first few times were a little odd, but everyone became comfortable with each other. If someone from one side wasn't there, a person from another would ask where they were, how they were doing, etc.
When my Aunt Helen fell sick with breast cancer, I was devastated. I knew how this ended and I felt bad for her children even though they were grown. The family didn't know what they were in for. They did not know about the chemo, radiation, side effects, heartache and loss of a mother, sister, grandmother. Aunt Helen's cancer was different from my mom's. It was more aggressive and spread faster than my mom's. Aunt Helen was older (even though she was still young) when she was diagnosed and had led a lifestyle that was harsher on the body than my mom. But I loved Aunt Helen and didn't want to watch her suffering.
Aunt Helen was blessed with a beautiful baby granddaughter named Kelsea. Kelsea loved her nana and spent a lot of time with her. She lived with her at one point. Kelsea was the joy in Aunt Helen's life. She fought so hard to stay alive for her. I wanted her to be able to see Kelsea grow up- into an elementary schooler, high school graduate and mother herself. But she was not able to hang on. The cancer spread throughout her body and she succumbed to it, surrounded by her sisters. Towards the end, which was inevitable, her sisters gathered at her house. The rest of the family also came by to visit but the sisters were always there. I remember the last time I saw Aunt Helen alive. I knew from previous experience that this was going to be the last time. I said goodbye the best way I could and left the house. She died not long after.
I want to remember Aunt Helen as a laughing and smiling woman. Even though I am in no way, shape or form related to her, I was considered her niece and I considered her my aunt. I received birthday cards and hugs goodbye at the Christmas Eve parties at Aunt Judy's house.
The typical family in America no longer exists. We are comprised of single mothers, gay men or women with children and "stepfamilies". I was blessed with a stepfamily that loves me and is encouraging me to do this Walk. I think of Aunt Helen often. She is buried almost directly behind my own mother in the same cemetary. I visit her whenever I visit Mom and bring her angels for her grave and try and get rid of the weeds in the little garden in front of her plot. I pray for her and hope that she and my mom have met in Heaven. I believe that they are watching over us all and are happy that we have "blended". I walk not only for my mom, my "2nd mom" but also for my Aunt Helen. I love them all.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
The pink ribbon cookie cutter...
So by now everybody knows about the Avon Walk, 2 days, 39 miles, yada yada yada. And that I have to raise a boatload of money. So I'll skip ahead to about 3 weeks ago when I had the brilliant idea that I could make money by selling something at the Village Community Tag Sale and Art Show. It was a nice happy thought...bake some cookies, sell them, get money *fiendish laugh*. Oh so easy.
Somehow I became fixated on the idea that the cookies needed to be shaped like ribbons and that I HAD seen a ribbon cookie cutter once. Somewhere. Probably at a store. Maybe in the Tri-State area. I swear I saw one. This cookie cutter became my obsession. And I REALLY wanted to find it in a store to prove that I had seen one in a store. People (friends and store employees alike) gave me strange looks when I described what I wanted in a cookie cutter. I would walk into (insert craft supply/home goods store name here) and head for the decorative kitchen crap aisle. Every goddamn store stocked the same cookie cutters (circles, hearts, various animals) but none had a ribbon. Invariably a store employee would see me staring intensely at row of cutters and ask if I needed help. Of course! They would know exactly where one would find a ribbon cookie cutter!! I explained what I wanted and there was always that very same look of confusion on his/her face. "Umm...these are all of the cookie cutters that we have". Gee, thanks.
So I turned to the good old internet. Of course I could find it on here. I was still a little pissy that I couldn't find it in any single store in Dutchess County but whatever. Did I mention that when I began my online search it was approximately 3am and I hadn't been to bed yet? So I was getting a bit groggy and slightly punchy. Oooohh they have more than one kind on ebay!!Should I get the metal one, pink one, small, big (I thought), one with a fake hole in the middle or one that actually punches the hole out leaving you with a "realistic" ribbon? Which one? Life is full of possibilites! I fell in love with the LARGE pink one with the punchy hole. I could envision sugar cookies with a glaze, lined with white hard icing and filled in with pink sprinkles. People would fall over themselves trying to buy these beautiful cookies from me. Or so my 3, er 4am self thought. I apparently ordered 2 from 2 different vendors on 2 different websites. And chocolate molds, lollipop molds and sticks. Give me a credit card in the middle of the night and this is what happens.
While eagerly awaiting the arrival of my much coveted cookie cutters, I decided to go and buy all of the other decorating crap. I went to Michael's and found that it was a pink ribbon cookie makers dream...white icing in Elmer's glue type bottles, edible pink glitter gels, etc. Did you know that sprinkles come in a multitude of shapes and sizes? I did not. And there are different variations of pink too, though I gravitated towards the pinkest pink- HOT PINK! I got bags, icings, gels, ribbon, safety pins, a circle and heart cookie cutter...I can't even bring myself to tell you how much it cost. But I will say that the girl at the counter hooked me up with a coupon that saved me something like $13. Fundraising is pricey. And I hadn't even gotten the ingredients for the dough yet.
I was thrilled when I finally got to open the medium sized box that magically ended up on my porch, I knew Kandi's Kitchen (or whomever) would send me my perfect ribbon cookiecutter. I tore open the box like a kid at Christmas...I was unfolding and unfolding and unfolding something wrapped in newspaper. And there it was a mini pink ribbon cookie cutter. What the hell was I going to do with this? I'd have to sell the cookies for a friggin' quarter! But all hope was not lost because in a few days another package would arrive with my REAL biggie size ribbon cookie cutter. But, alas, I was duped again. It was the same exact cutter as the first!! I surrendered.
In the meantime I asked my friend and ex-cubicle mate Ashley if I could borrow her kitchen to be able to make the cookies as she has a full size oven and I would have to bake them by 2's in mine. She readily agreed and had no idea that she would become engulfed with my obsessive ribbon themed cookie madness. We agreed to bake on the Wednesday before the tag sale and possibly Thursday if needed. I was to bring the dough, she had the cookie sheets. At first I contemplated buying sugar cookie dough at BJ's, but decided that this would probably be more expensive and was sort of cheating. Never again. I spent most of Tuesday making batch after batch of cookie dough. I even baked a few to make sure that they were edible. They looked be-you-ti-ful! I took pics and texted them to Ashley and my sister.
Cookie making was actually a lot of fun and my sister, Ashley and I were a well oiled machine. And sugar cookies bake fast, thank god. But it was still hours of baking what felt like thousands of cookies. We cooled them and packed them up for me to transport home for decorating the next day. We ate the rejects. Things to know: Ribbon cookie cutters suck and the big ones with the cushioning rock. And my sister used all of the dough except a piece the size of an M&M. It was truly impressive.
Decorating was interesting. I can say for sure that none of us are artistic. In fact we are pretty much the opposite...oh if it was only videotaped for your pleasure (or YouTube viral fame). There were sprinkles everywhere, dripping white icing (I had visions of the gingerbread man lining on the ribbons), goopy pink gel and my sister's attempt at "art"- the smiley face. Buuuuut...they actually looked pretty cute all wrapped up in cellophane bags with pink ribbons.
The cookie selling aspect was actually uneventful compared to the weeks preceeding. We sold all the cookies! Yay!! We made money. We donated it to charity and all was well...
Somehow I became fixated on the idea that the cookies needed to be shaped like ribbons and that I HAD seen a ribbon cookie cutter once. Somewhere. Probably at a store. Maybe in the Tri-State area. I swear I saw one. This cookie cutter became my obsession. And I REALLY wanted to find it in a store to prove that I had seen one in a store. People (friends and store employees alike) gave me strange looks when I described what I wanted in a cookie cutter. I would walk into (insert craft supply/home goods store name here) and head for the decorative kitchen crap aisle. Every goddamn store stocked the same cookie cutters (circles, hearts, various animals) but none had a ribbon. Invariably a store employee would see me staring intensely at row of cutters and ask if I needed help. Of course! They would know exactly where one would find a ribbon cookie cutter!! I explained what I wanted and there was always that very same look of confusion on his/her face. "Umm...these are all of the cookie cutters that we have". Gee, thanks.
So I turned to the good old internet. Of course I could find it on here. I was still a little pissy that I couldn't find it in any single store in Dutchess County but whatever. Did I mention that when I began my online search it was approximately 3am and I hadn't been to bed yet? So I was getting a bit groggy and slightly punchy. Oooohh they have more than one kind on ebay!!Should I get the metal one, pink one, small, big (I thought), one with a fake hole in the middle or one that actually punches the hole out leaving you with a "realistic" ribbon? Which one? Life is full of possibilites! I fell in love with the LARGE pink one with the punchy hole. I could envision sugar cookies with a glaze, lined with white hard icing and filled in with pink sprinkles. People would fall over themselves trying to buy these beautiful cookies from me. Or so my 3, er 4am self thought. I apparently ordered 2 from 2 different vendors on 2 different websites. And chocolate molds, lollipop molds and sticks. Give me a credit card in the middle of the night and this is what happens.
While eagerly awaiting the arrival of my much coveted cookie cutters, I decided to go and buy all of the other decorating crap. I went to Michael's and found that it was a pink ribbon cookie makers dream...white icing in Elmer's glue type bottles, edible pink glitter gels, etc. Did you know that sprinkles come in a multitude of shapes and sizes? I did not. And there are different variations of pink too, though I gravitated towards the pinkest pink- HOT PINK! I got bags, icings, gels, ribbon, safety pins, a circle and heart cookie cutter...I can't even bring myself to tell you how much it cost. But I will say that the girl at the counter hooked me up with a coupon that saved me something like $13. Fundraising is pricey. And I hadn't even gotten the ingredients for the dough yet.
I was thrilled when I finally got to open the medium sized box that magically ended up on my porch, I knew Kandi's Kitchen (or whomever) would send me my perfect ribbon cookiecutter. I tore open the box like a kid at Christmas...I was unfolding and unfolding and unfolding something wrapped in newspaper. And there it was a mini pink ribbon cookie cutter. What the hell was I going to do with this? I'd have to sell the cookies for a friggin' quarter! But all hope was not lost because in a few days another package would arrive with my REAL biggie size ribbon cookie cutter. But, alas, I was duped again. It was the same exact cutter as the first!! I surrendered.
In the meantime I asked my friend and ex-cubicle mate Ashley if I could borrow her kitchen to be able to make the cookies as she has a full size oven and I would have to bake them by 2's in mine. She readily agreed and had no idea that she would become engulfed with my obsessive ribbon themed cookie madness. We agreed to bake on the Wednesday before the tag sale and possibly Thursday if needed. I was to bring the dough, she had the cookie sheets. At first I contemplated buying sugar cookie dough at BJ's, but decided that this would probably be more expensive and was sort of cheating. Never again. I spent most of Tuesday making batch after batch of cookie dough. I even baked a few to make sure that they were edible. They looked be-you-ti-ful! I took pics and texted them to Ashley and my sister.
Cookie making was actually a lot of fun and my sister, Ashley and I were a well oiled machine. And sugar cookies bake fast, thank god. But it was still hours of baking what felt like thousands of cookies. We cooled them and packed them up for me to transport home for decorating the next day. We ate the rejects. Things to know: Ribbon cookie cutters suck and the big ones with the cushioning rock. And my sister used all of the dough except a piece the size of an M&M. It was truly impressive.
Decorating was interesting. I can say for sure that none of us are artistic. In fact we are pretty much the opposite...oh if it was only videotaped for your pleasure (or YouTube viral fame). There were sprinkles everywhere, dripping white icing (I had visions of the gingerbread man lining on the ribbons), goopy pink gel and my sister's attempt at "art"- the smiley face. Buuuuut...they actually looked pretty cute all wrapped up in cellophane bags with pink ribbons.
The cookie selling aspect was actually uneventful compared to the weeks preceeding. We sold all the cookies! Yay!! We made money. We donated it to charity and all was well...
I am grateful that people (Ashley and my sister specifically) are still speaking to me after this week of cookie hell. I'd also like to thank my coworkers for putting up with obsessive sugar cookie making and decorating talk.
Friday, May 15, 2009
My new family...
I've been thinking a lot (and writing too, I guess) about my Mom and her death but I haven't mentioned my Dad's second wife and her family.
About 2 years after my Mom died, my Dad got remarried to a wondeful woman named Joan. I still call her Joan but my sister calls her Mom because she is the only mom that she remembers. My sister was 6 when they married and I was 13. My father did things right in my opinion. He raised us singlehandedly for those 2 years and went through a lot, all on his own. He was a bit taken aback when I got my first period, but I guess I can understand that. He called my Gram to come over and help with my incessant crying and refusal to go to school because of it. She took me out shopping and to lunch. He left me alone in my misery for awhile. I did have a conversation with him about the time after my Mom died, and his only regret was that he did not make us go to therapy to deal with her struggle and death. But goddamn, he was 32, had just lost his wife after fighting the disease along with her for 7 years. He was thrown into single parenthood (of 2 girls at that). He couldn't do my sister's hair. That part was quite amusing. You should have seen the concoctions he came up with. I took over that part. He fed us, made sure we were clothed and grieved along with us. I can't fathom what he went through.
In any event, he met Joan through work. He sat me down and asked for my permission to go on a date with her. Even through my anger, I believed that he had the right to be happy so I said that he could go. Joan did make my Dad happy. I was not, but attempted to pretend that I was. He wouldn't let her stay over or move in until after they were married. Thinking back, this was a really nice thing to do for all of us. Joan is a lovely woman although slightly meek and mild. I tried not to, but I'm sure I pushed her buttons. I have to have. At that point I was an angry teenager with a grudge against life. But I was never mean to her (I hope) and tried to like her. She had the patience of a saint.
Eventually I grew to love her and think of her as a mother figure. I still couldn't bring myself to call her Mom. I knew my mother but Joan became "Jo", and she is still to this day. Although now she is my Jo. I've had her in my life longer than I had my own mother.
When Jo was diagnosed with breast cancer, I was devastated. I'd already been through this before and all I could think was "You've got to be fucking kidding me!". But she fought hard, and they caught it early and she won! She is still on the oral chemo but I don't care because she's still alive and I love her.
Jo even grew to be part of my Mom's family. They call her Aunt Joan and she is invited (as is my Dad) to family functions that they wouldn't necessarily be invited to if it was another family. For god's sake, they are invited to the family reunions. And they go. I love that! And I love my Mom's side because they have accepted her and still include my Dad, even though they went through the tragic experience of losing a sister, aunt, daughter. My Dad and Jo would even make it a point to go and visit my Mom's dad when they were in the area.
All in all, my Dad and Jo are awesome and I love them dearly. More about Jo's family and their acceptance of me and my sister later (its a good thing!)...
About 2 years after my Mom died, my Dad got remarried to a wondeful woman named Joan. I still call her Joan but my sister calls her Mom because she is the only mom that she remembers. My sister was 6 when they married and I was 13. My father did things right in my opinion. He raised us singlehandedly for those 2 years and went through a lot, all on his own. He was a bit taken aback when I got my first period, but I guess I can understand that. He called my Gram to come over and help with my incessant crying and refusal to go to school because of it. She took me out shopping and to lunch. He left me alone in my misery for awhile. I did have a conversation with him about the time after my Mom died, and his only regret was that he did not make us go to therapy to deal with her struggle and death. But goddamn, he was 32, had just lost his wife after fighting the disease along with her for 7 years. He was thrown into single parenthood (of 2 girls at that). He couldn't do my sister's hair. That part was quite amusing. You should have seen the concoctions he came up with. I took over that part. He fed us, made sure we were clothed and grieved along with us. I can't fathom what he went through.
In any event, he met Joan through work. He sat me down and asked for my permission to go on a date with her. Even through my anger, I believed that he had the right to be happy so I said that he could go. Joan did make my Dad happy. I was not, but attempted to pretend that I was. He wouldn't let her stay over or move in until after they were married. Thinking back, this was a really nice thing to do for all of us. Joan is a lovely woman although slightly meek and mild. I tried not to, but I'm sure I pushed her buttons. I have to have. At that point I was an angry teenager with a grudge against life. But I was never mean to her (I hope) and tried to like her. She had the patience of a saint.
Eventually I grew to love her and think of her as a mother figure. I still couldn't bring myself to call her Mom. I knew my mother but Joan became "Jo", and she is still to this day. Although now she is my Jo. I've had her in my life longer than I had my own mother.
When Jo was diagnosed with breast cancer, I was devastated. I'd already been through this before and all I could think was "You've got to be fucking kidding me!". But she fought hard, and they caught it early and she won! She is still on the oral chemo but I don't care because she's still alive and I love her.
Jo even grew to be part of my Mom's family. They call her Aunt Joan and she is invited (as is my Dad) to family functions that they wouldn't necessarily be invited to if it was another family. For god's sake, they are invited to the family reunions. And they go. I love that! And I love my Mom's side because they have accepted her and still include my Dad, even though they went through the tragic experience of losing a sister, aunt, daughter. My Dad and Jo would even make it a point to go and visit my Mom's dad when they were in the area.
All in all, my Dad and Jo are awesome and I love them dearly. More about Jo's family and their acceptance of me and my sister later (its a good thing!)...
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Training buddies...
So I am sloooooowly building a Walk network besides me and my sister. I was hoping for a group to train with that are diverse and (more than anything else) local. Its really hard to find anyone in neighboring counties that are participating. I don't really understand why, but I'm pretty sure that D. and I are the only ones participating in Dutchess County. Goddamn, we're not thaaat far from the City. I love my sister dearly but training for the next 5 mos, living together and then walking 39 miles may perhaps kill our sisterly bond ;)
So Diane (someone who was hooked up with me via my "walking buddy" Sadie) and I are walking the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge on Monday. Wish me luck...I hear its a much steeper incline than it looks. Send 'em on Sadie, send 'em on.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
For Whom I'm Walking and Thank Yous
I have a running list of people who would like to have their loved ones included in my list of people for whom I will walk:
So far I have:
So far I have:
- My mom aka Aunt Cindy
- My stepmom aka Aunt Joan
- My dad (who was great during this time)
- Aunt Helen
- My cousins, aunts, uncles, grandma, friends, everyone who pitched in when it was needed
- Anita W.
- Marilyn R.
- Mrs. Brown
- Ione Duffy
- Everyone that this disease has touched, who is battling or has battled. I want to fill my heart t-shirt with names. Comment me with more...
I'd also like to thank my friends, family and coworkers who are helping me with support either monetarily and/or financially by:
- letting me use their kitchen (Ashley),
- offering to help with bake sales (Linda and Theresa)
- giving me the last money in their wallet (Karen),
- listening to me over and over again (Sara, Casey, Patti, Ashley),
- offering money they don't have and won't let me do anything in return (Eric & Shannon), support (Aunt Judy, Aunt Mary, Lynnie),
- donating (Sarah, Theresa, Karen, Aunt Judy)
- EMS (for letting me put out fliers and being very nice to me)
- Wanting me to babysit for charity (Adrienne)
- Offering up fundraising ideas (Lynnie)
.
This is not a full and complete list, I'm sorry. I took my sleeping pills and now they're kicking in.
Love you all.
The beginning...
I will fully admit that I am not the best writer. I just wanted a place to document my journey towards the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer 2009 NYC. I have a mini blog on my donation website but I'd like a place (possibly) where more people may read it.
My first experience with breast cancer goes back as far as I can remember. My mother had a very aggressive form of breast cancer. No she wasn't 60, 50, 40 or even 30 years old. She was diagnosed at age 24. From what my dad has said, no doctor believed her because she was "too young". But she wasn't and her, my father's and my own 4 year old life changed forever. I remember spending excessive amounts of time in doctor's offices, hospitals, eating out of vending machines and holding her garbage can so that she could throw up after chemo. As sick as it sounds, I still use that garbage can in my room to this day. It reminds me of her.
I love Maine. This is because I am nostalgic of the days that my family spent there, laughing and playing in the ocean. These are fantastic memories. My cousins and I had a blast! We rented cabins steps from the ocean and this was our playground. The yearly trip to Maine was a given.
My aunt sent me some pictures recently. One was of my mom in her wheelchair on her last trip to Maine. She was sitting in her wheelchair, turban on her head due to lack of hair, smiling. How did she smile? Her life sucked and it was almost over. But through all of this, she still smiled. I wish I was more like her. Smiling even when life sucks.
Writing, talking more and doing this walk has been therapeutic for me. Even though its been 20 years since she died, I still haven't fully recovered. I'm not sure anyone who loses a parent so young really does. But its been good to let the anger go.
I love you Mom. I'm not angry anymore God.
My first experience with breast cancer goes back as far as I can remember. My mother had a very aggressive form of breast cancer. No she wasn't 60, 50, 40 or even 30 years old. She was diagnosed at age 24. From what my dad has said, no doctor believed her because she was "too young". But she wasn't and her, my father's and my own 4 year old life changed forever. I remember spending excessive amounts of time in doctor's offices, hospitals, eating out of vending machines and holding her garbage can so that she could throw up after chemo. As sick as it sounds, I still use that garbage can in my room to this day. It reminds me of her.
I love Maine. This is because I am nostalgic of the days that my family spent there, laughing and playing in the ocean. These are fantastic memories. My cousins and I had a blast! We rented cabins steps from the ocean and this was our playground. The yearly trip to Maine was a given.
My aunt sent me some pictures recently. One was of my mom in her wheelchair on her last trip to Maine. She was sitting in her wheelchair, turban on her head due to lack of hair, smiling. How did she smile? Her life sucked and it was almost over. But through all of this, she still smiled. I wish I was more like her. Smiling even when life sucks.
Writing, talking more and doing this walk has been therapeutic for me. Even though its been 20 years since she died, I still haven't fully recovered. I'm not sure anyone who loses a parent so young really does. But its been good to let the anger go.
I love you Mom. I'm not angry anymore God.
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