Silence
When I noticed the date of my last post, I realized how long it's been... but let me explain.
Some of you might know of our mom's cancer diagnosis. I thought of starting a new blog related only to that journey, but decided against that. Like so many other things, her cancer is now integrated into the fabric of our lives, too. Dinner has to be made. Mom has cancer. Diapers need to be changed. Mom has cancer. I have to keep breathing. Mom has cancer. I don't want to create the false impression that it is somehow separate and apart from reality for us.
Besides the usual post-operative woes, she doesn't have a lot of life-altering symptoms at this point. Thankfully, I don't have to envision her writhing in pain while I go about my daily life. What has been so hard is the reminder that our time with her is limited. A prognosis is nothing more than an educated guess, but it does reflect the gravity of the situation. And there are so many things I can't envision happening without my mom. Who will I call when I want to know if a fuschia will survive on the north side of my house? Who will be so thrilled with my childrens' ability to read a book? Who will I ask about how to get tomato stains out of a favorite shirt? When I'm really feeling discouraged with life, who will tell me "You just have to be positive," and not let me recline in my Self Pity Chair?
Everyone's mom is special, but I remember as a girl feeling so sorry for all the other kids because they didn't get to have my mom as their mom. Our mom was the best cook, the most beautiful, the most kind and just generally the best mom around. When I heard her singing hymns while rocking my baby brother to sleep, I thought she could have performed in Carnegie Hall. (Imagine my disappointment later when I discovered our mother is basically tone-deaf.)
Now, as a mom myself, I realize what a great job she did. She put up with our snottiness about our homemade clothes (which she unselfishly slaved over) when what we really wanted was a name-brand number (which we could ill afford). She has always made really great cookies, but was I grateful? No, I remember asking for Oreos because that's what my friends had for lunch. She made breakfast, lunch and dinner and I don't remember if I ever said "thank you". She was the quintessential housemom, but not cloying and ridiculous. She didn't wear pumps while dusting, but our house was dusted nontheless. She was at our sports events, every single piano recital in my 9 years of lessons, and supported us in everything we did. She still does, even in how we raise our crazy kids.
Fast forward to the present. When my first son was born, she stayed a few weeks to help me get my feet on the ground. At the airport waiting for her flight to take off, I knew in my heart that I could not make it without her. I guess I thought that my new baby and I would just combust as her plane took off. We went home and didn't combust after all, which was only because I could call her frequently and ask her what in the world I was supposed to do with this new life placed firmly under my responsibility.
After receiving the bad news about her cancer, and all the emotions that go along with it, I would have thought I'd have had the energy to write and write and only write some more. But instead, it has brought silence. I have nothing to say. What does a person have to say when time is limited with someone they love, and yet the dumb ol' world keeps spinning? This blog has kept me going in the past few months, so I'll try to think of something to write about. But if it has been awhile and I haven't had anything to say... perhaps life has rendered me speechless.
Some of you might know of our mom's cancer diagnosis. I thought of starting a new blog related only to that journey, but decided against that. Like so many other things, her cancer is now integrated into the fabric of our lives, too. Dinner has to be made. Mom has cancer. Diapers need to be changed. Mom has cancer. I have to keep breathing. Mom has cancer. I don't want to create the false impression that it is somehow separate and apart from reality for us.
Besides the usual post-operative woes, she doesn't have a lot of life-altering symptoms at this point. Thankfully, I don't have to envision her writhing in pain while I go about my daily life. What has been so hard is the reminder that our time with her is limited. A prognosis is nothing more than an educated guess, but it does reflect the gravity of the situation. And there are so many things I can't envision happening without my mom. Who will I call when I want to know if a fuschia will survive on the north side of my house? Who will be so thrilled with my childrens' ability to read a book? Who will I ask about how to get tomato stains out of a favorite shirt? When I'm really feeling discouraged with life, who will tell me "You just have to be positive," and not let me recline in my Self Pity Chair?
Everyone's mom is special, but I remember as a girl feeling so sorry for all the other kids because they didn't get to have my mom as their mom. Our mom was the best cook, the most beautiful, the most kind and just generally the best mom around. When I heard her singing hymns while rocking my baby brother to sleep, I thought she could have performed in Carnegie Hall. (Imagine my disappointment later when I discovered our mother is basically tone-deaf.)
Now, as a mom myself, I realize what a great job she did. She put up with our snottiness about our homemade clothes (which she unselfishly slaved over) when what we really wanted was a name-brand number (which we could ill afford). She has always made really great cookies, but was I grateful? No, I remember asking for Oreos because that's what my friends had for lunch. She made breakfast, lunch and dinner and I don't remember if I ever said "thank you". She was the quintessential housemom, but not cloying and ridiculous. She didn't wear pumps while dusting, but our house was dusted nontheless. She was at our sports events, every single piano recital in my 9 years of lessons, and supported us in everything we did. She still does, even in how we raise our crazy kids.
Fast forward to the present. When my first son was born, she stayed a few weeks to help me get my feet on the ground. At the airport waiting for her flight to take off, I knew in my heart that I could not make it without her. I guess I thought that my new baby and I would just combust as her plane took off. We went home and didn't combust after all, which was only because I could call her frequently and ask her what in the world I was supposed to do with this new life placed firmly under my responsibility.
After receiving the bad news about her cancer, and all the emotions that go along with it, I would have thought I'd have had the energy to write and write and only write some more. But instead, it has brought silence. I have nothing to say. What does a person have to say when time is limited with someone they love, and yet the dumb ol' world keeps spinning? This blog has kept me going in the past few months, so I'll try to think of something to write about. But if it has been awhile and I haven't had anything to say... perhaps life has rendered me speechless.
posted by Left Coast Sister at 1:19 PM
5 Comments:
Well, LCS, you've got me speechless too. I don't want this post to go comment-less, but what on earth can you say? Life is just difficult. And, at least in this country, we are saved from knowing that in so many ways. Until something like this happens. So hard to accept the things out of our control, and harder yet to accept what these changes mean. I think blogging, or journaling, is just the thing to help you work through the feelings you are having. My heart is really with you during this process, and I hope that you feel that. I can't imagine it, myself, but I know someday I will have to go through the same process you are.
Thanks Lisa. It's been a very surreal experience so far... She's very positive about it which is helpful... but nothing comes close to replacing a mom...
This post made me cry. Very excellently written, and I hope that your mom has read it. What could be more precious than to read the heartfelt thoughts of your child? Of all things I could attain, if any of my children will ever be able to say something like this about me, I will be rich.
Silence heals. Keep going and sound will return. Maybe in fits and starts. It's there waiting.
old friend,
Emily told me about your little blog, and how it was so you. Hearing about your mom makes me smile and tear. I have seen her around and about in the past decade and she has always remembered me and smiled as she told me of your latest exploit. The last time I ran in to her I was pregnant and she was so excited too, what a stellar mom and great lady!!! Give yourself a hug from me!!
--former Bobrowski
JMBMOMMY! Good to find you again! Yes, a good mom is hard to find... Good thing my mom's a fighter...
Thank you, Jay Are. My mom is more than I could ever put into words, is all I will say.
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