Buddha, Bee and Me

For awhile now, we have heard the warnings that we are in a medical crisis. Due to rising costs, many medical facilities across the country have closed. There is a nurse shortage everywhere. The nurses that are still in the field are overworked and burnt out. People are waiting HOURS to be seen in emergency rooms. The news has been dire, but even during the worst days of the pandemic, I thought this was a problem that affected other people. I live in Durham, North Carolina–also known as the City of Medicine. My home is less than 2 miles from Duke Hospital and 10 miles from UNC Hospital with an astounding number of medical facilities both around both and in between. Although I knew friends and family in this area were waiting longer to get appointments with their doctors for routine appointments and procedures or having long waits in the emergency rooms or urgent care facilities in the area, I still thought this area was in a bubble-safe from the crisis happening everywhere else.

Until a couple weeks ago…

One Wednesday morning a couple weeks ago, I went downstairs to let our dog out. Something very routine. Something I do every morning and have done thousands of times as my husband and I have lived in this house over 20 years. This particular morning I tripped or misstepped on the last steps and fell. It is important to note that I am a bit of klutz. My husband calls me a “frequent faller” and if he had his way, I would wear one of those bright yellow “fall risk” arm bands that you get at the hospital every day. This wasn’t my first fall down steps. It wasn’t my first fall down these steps. But it would turn out to be my worst fall! In the past after a fall, I might have a bump or bruise or two and a minor sprain. Nothing that a little ice, rest, and an ace bandage couldn’t fix. This time, I could not stand up at all and we knew immediately I wouldn’t be bouncing back quite as quickly.

After following the advice not to go to the emergency room (because as painful as this was, we knew this was not a life threatening emergency), we went to an urgent care less than a mile from my home. There I was diagnosed with a sprained left ankle and a broken right ankle. I was sent home with a splint on my right leg, a pair of crutches, and a referral for my appointment to see an orthopedic physician in eight days. EIGHT DAYS?????!!!! My case was being marked “urgent” to determine if I needed surgery, but I couldn’t see the doctor to make that determination for eight days? Apparently I fell at the same time as a national orthopedic physician conference so I was told that every doctor in this area was either out of town at the conference or already booked, but we were free to call on our own to see if I could be seen earlier.

My husband immediately started reaching out to our friends for any references and started calling every ortho clinic in town. In the past two weeks, I have seen seven different doctors at six different facilities, had multiple x-rays and one MRI. At the two week mark after being told again that I was an urgent case and needed surgery as soon as possible, I was told that there was not an available surgeon and surgery date for over a week. I had a complete meltdown. Again my wonderful husband advocated on my behalf and I had surgery on this morning (Sunday!) by an ortho trauma surgeon that I did meet until a few minutes before my surgery.

This morning my surgery was delayed for awhile due to a staff shortage in the OR!

This has been such an incredible, frustrating, eye-opening experience! Please note this rant is by no means a commentary on the quality of care I have experienced. I have received nothing but the best care possible. Everyone we have encountered has been extremely professional and helpful. Everyone we have encountered has been just as frustrated with this lack of available care as we have been.

I also recognize how privileged I am in this situation. My employer has been incredibly understanding during this time. I have wonderful insurance through my employer. A quick Google search indicated that approximately 30 million Americans still do not have insurance. Although I do not look forward to paying the medical bills that are already arriving, I am not losing sleep that this situation will put my family in financial distress. Because I live in the City of Medicine, none of my appointments have been more than a few miles from my house. Because my husband owns his own business and is self-employed, he has been able to adjust his schedule take me to these appointments, care for me and advocate on my behalf (which some days has felt like a full-time job in itself). Most Americans aren’t so lucky. I have spent a lot of time over the past few days thinking of others in this country who don’t have insurance, understanding employers, family members with flexible schedules, financial stability, or access to appropriate medical facilities close to their homes.

I have also spent a lot of time contemplating what caused this medical crisis to begin with. In comparison to my current situation, sixteen years ago I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. From the day of my first symptom to the day I had surgery was fourteen days! I had the option of choosing an earlier date, but I chose to wait. My case was not considered an urgent case. In fact on the day of my surgery, my surgery was pushed back to a later time in order to squeeze in an emergency case. I remember joking with my medical team when they apologized for me being bumped that it was better to be the bumpee and not the bumper. My neurosurgeon was and still is known as one of the best in the world. People all over the world come to Duke just to see Dr. Friedman. Today, there are approximately 60 doctors that are identified as neurosurgeons in this area and sixteen years ago, I very easily got an appointment with one of the best.

Now sixteen years later, it has taken much research, begging, and pleading to find an available surgeon eighteen days after my accident. If my husband was not advocating on my behalf, my wait would be even longer. My need for surgery this time is classified as urgent. I will not be on the road to recovery until I have surgery. I will not be able to walk again until at least six weeks after surgery. I did not know my surgeon’s name until this morning before my surgery. I went in trusting my referral for him as one of the best. Today, there approximately 160 doctors that are identified as orthopedic surgeons in this area and due to a medical crisis of medical facilities being overbooked and understaffed, I struggled to obtain each and every appointment.

I do not know what the solution to this problem is, but now I am aware that we are not in a bubble and this problem exists even in the City of Medicine. If the problem is this bad here, I cannot even imagine how frustrating it must be in other parts of the state and country! And I worry what will happen here if the next time it is a life threatening emergency!

Dear Jack,

I know I have shown you this picture many times before and you have heard the story behind it at least a thousand times, but this year more than before, I feel like the story bears repeating. As you know this is one of my favorite pictures of me with Nana and Papa, but I didn’t always feel that way. I was seventeen years old when this picture was taken and you are seventeen years old now. There are things I want to tell you about this picture that I don’t think you can really understand until you about to enter this next chapter of your life.

This picture was taken on November 19, 1988–34 years ago today (How did that happen, by the way???). The girl in the middle of this picture (me, your mom) had her whole life planned out. She knew where she was going to college, what she was going to study, what she was going to do when she graduated. She even had an inkling on whom she might end up marrying and she definitely knew where she would live after she married and started a family of her own. She knew she was going to return to her hometown in Alabama and if not there, the absolute furthest she would ever live away from that hometown would be an hour away in Birmingham. It was going to be a good life and it was all she had ever hoped for. The girl in the middle of the picture was seventeen years old and she knew everything, she knew all the answers, and nothing was going to get in her way. EXCEPT what the girl in the middle of the picture did not know was that a couple hours after this picture was taken, her parents were about to turn her whole world upside down. See how sad Nana and Papa look? They already knew. A couple hours after this picture was taken, Papa informed me that he had accepted a job transfer to North Carolina–500 miles away from our hometown and my life would never be the same.

I was seventeen when my world came crashing down that night and like most seventeen year olds, the world revolved around me. I was only concerned about how this affected my life, my senior year. Like you, I had lived in the same town my whole life. But my hometown was small. Most of my friends I had known my entire life. It never dawned on me until years later that my parents who were just a little over twice as old as me at the time had also lived in the same town all of their lives. That they too were leaving friends they had known their entire lives. My parents also made the difficult decision to live in two different states for several months so I could complete my senior of high school. Not until many years later when I was married myself did I fully comprehend how difficult that separation was. All I could grasp at the time was this the most horrible thing that had ever happened to me in my life.

A few months later, after I had graduated from high school, I started making decisions that would start to unravel all those “life-plans” I had at seventeen. The first being I chose not to attend college in Alabama and to move to North Carolina to be closer to Nana and Papa. Now as you know, some of those decisions were not my best decisions. For instance, I first choose a college in North Carolina that was not the best fit for for me. At eighteen I was convinced I had messed up my life and would never recover. I had moved 500 miles from home, hated college, had no friends, and my high school sweetheart was living his best life with a new girlfriend. I was terrified to tell anyone what I was going through because I was worried I would disappoint everyone. I thought I only had two options–1) continue on the path I was on and stay miserable or 2) drop out of college, disappoint everyone, and still be miserable.

But fortunately, I figured out that I was the only one that had set those expectations for myself at seventeen. I could choose and change my path anytime I chose to. I could even choose to return to that path in Alabama if I wanted, but at some point, I realized that was no longer the path God had planned for me. Had I chosen to go that route, I know I would have had a good life, but I also know it would not have been the life God meant for me to have. This is the life God meant for me to live. So I chose to go a different route and I made different plans. It wasn’t always easy, but now I am lucky to call both Alabama and North Carolina home, I found a college path and a career path that were the perfect fit for me and that I love, and I am blessed with many friends–many of those same friends I’ve known my whole life and many others that I have met along the way. Most importantly this path led me to your father and our greatest adventure, you.

I share all of this (again) with you today, because I want you to understand that while all of these decisions before you are important, they are not permanent. Please remember that anytime you can change your path. And always remember I will always be cheering you on no matter what path you choose!

I also want to share this with you because I want you to always remember that sometimes what you think is a bad thing can actually be one of the best things that ever happened to you. Which is why I have grown to love this picture so much over the years. For years, I always referred to November 19th as the “Day Avondale Mills Ruined My Life” but it’s actually the day that your Nana and Papa were very brave to take a leap of faith in God, their marriage, their family and careers and open a whole new world that none of us had ever even considered. So the life I have now is not the life I hoped for at seventeen–it’s so much more! Because I recognize that now, I love this picture. Not to mention the amazing 80’s hair Nana and I have in this photo!

Proverbs 3:56

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.

Love you to the moon and back,

Mom

I recently saw a Facebook post regarding a condolence note that President Elect Joe Biden sent to the family of former North Carolina Senator Kay Hagan after she passed away in 2019. In that note Biden wrote that one day the memories would once again bring smiles before the tears and in that moment the Hagan family would know that they were going to be okay. That sentiment has been on my mind and heart a lot these past few weeks as I marked the four year anniversary of Mom’s passing and prepare for the upcoming holidays. Especially this week as I begin to prepare my grandmother’s dressing for Thanksgiving.

My mother died on a Monday in October. Those first few months I lived in a fog, but I very clearly remember waking up one morning a few days after Halloween in a panic—where was the dressing recipe? I know it seems ridiculous that in that moment at that time all I was focused on was a side dish for a holiday that no one in my family was looking forward to celebrating, but it was more than just a side dish. This was my grandmother’s recipe and for 44 of my 45 years, it had been served at every Thanksgiving and sometimes Christmas, but never any other time of year. Thanksgiving 2000 when we celebrated the holiday and my parents’s 30th anniversary in New York City was the only year when we did not have the dressing. Even one year when my parents were going to be in NYC with friends for Thanksgiving, we celebrated before they left town and of course, had the dressing. So it was more than a side dish, it was a part of my family. A part of my history. And at a time when I felt like I had lost so much, I needed that side dish to be on the table.

Growing up my Granny always made the dressing and whether she made the dressing at her house beforehand or prepared it at our house, she always made the dressing by herself and Mom was not allowed to help. I think a few years before my Granny died, Mom may have finally been allowed to chop an onion or the celery, but nothing else. Maybe that’s why, after my grandmother passed away and my mother started making the dressing, I was never allowed to make it. But my grandmother had given my mother the recipe and unfortunately, Mom had not given it to me.

So that is why ,in a panic in early November a few weeks after Mom died, I broke into my parents’ house and searched for the recipe. And I felt such an odd combination of relief and sadness when I found it, that I sat on the floor in their kitchen and cried for an hour!

But like most really good family recipes, it is a vague, incomplete recipe. The kind without exact measurements; the kind that is perfected only after years of trial and error. So now I had the recipe, but I wasn’t sure what to do with it. With only a few days left to the holiday, I researched cooking websites and all my cookbooks to fill in the gaps and started doing trial runs of the dressing until I got it right. This was one of the darkest times of my life. I had never been so sad, angry or depressed in my life, but the dressing gave me something to focus on. Something I could control in a time when my life seemed out of control. I spent a lot of time in the kitchen those days talking to Mom, talking to Granny and praying to God. Although it was still a long road ahead of me, I think those days of baking cornbread and chopping onions and celery started my path to healing the heartbreak.

And then the emails, texts, and Facebook posts started coming in. “Praying for you and your dressing” they all read. From my dearest friends that had celebrated my highest highs and were now supporting me during my lowest low. I do not doubt that this was the most prayed upon pan of dressing in the history of the world! To pray for dressing may seem like a ridiculous prayer to some, but to me it is the greatest prayer of all. It so easy to be a good friend when times are good. Although it’s sometimes harder to know what to say or do when times are bad, the truth is those are often times when it’s easier to remember to pray for our friends and family. But in the days and weeks to follow and in the days between the highs and lows, those are the days you need someone to pray for the ordinary, the everyday tasks, the ridiculous things that get you through life, the things that seem so small to anyone else. Those are the days you need to someone to pray for your dressing.

This Thanksgiving will be my fifth year making the dressing. I always talk to Granny and Mom when I make it and I always shed a few tears (and not just because of the onions). But just like Joe Biden told the Hagan family, now smiles of the memories of Thanksgivings past come before the tears and before I put the pan in the oven for an hour at 350 degrees, I also say a prayer of thanks to God for bringing friends in my life who pray for me in good times and bad and for the friends that pray for me when I just need a pray for my dressing. And as I think of each and every one of those friends, I say a little prayer for whatever is the dressing in their life too.

On September 1st every year, Mom would call me and ask the same question–“Have you made my cookies yet?”  I knew exactly what cookies she meant–my ginger cookies, her favorite cookies.  She always said they smelled and tasted like fall.  Even though it was probably still 95 degrees outside, to her September 1st meant fall was here and it was time for me to start baking.  When I would remind her that she also had the same recipe, she would always reply, “But they taste better when you make them.”  So at least once every year, sometime between September 1st and Thanksgiving, I would bake the cookies.

When my son, Jack, was little, the cookies became one of his favorites too.  Probably due in part to the fact that Mom (aka Nana) would sneak them to him behind my back!  Much like Buffalo Rock ginger ale, my Mom jokingly claimed that the ginger cookies had healing properties and so whatever ailment Jack had–tummyache, skinned knee, “mymomsaidno”-itus–the cookies were sure to cure it.  Pretty soon, I had the two of them pestering me for cookies every autumn.

In October 2016, a good friend of ours entered her red velvet cake in the N.C. State Fair competition.  Mom was so proud of Angie and beyond excited when Angie’s cake won a blue ribbon!!!  During one of our last conversations, she said she wanted me to enter the cookies in the fair.  She passed away unexpectedly three days after that conversation.  I did not make the cookies that year.

The remaining months of 2016 and first few months of 2017 when my father-in-law passed away were some of the most difficult months for my family.  By fall of 2017, as we were approaching the one year anniversary of my mom’s passing, I felt like we were slowly coming out of a fog.  There were still bad days , but the bad days were starting to feel farther between.  One day Jack approached me and asked if we could make the cookies.  I told him I didn’t think I could make those cookies anymore and suggested we make another kind.  He was persistent though and said he needed to make those cookies because they were a cure for whatever ailed us.  So, yes, I caved and we made the cookies and one particularly bad day started to feel a little better.

In the fall of 2017, Jack was cast as Brom Bones in The Legend of Sleepy Hollow for his middle school’s play.  I was only a little surprised when he came home after rehearsal one night one week before the play opened and let me know that he had volunteered me to make the cookies for a prop in the play and “since you are already making cookies, could you make extras for all the cast?”  The little manipulator went so far as to remind me that the cookies would be a nice reminder of Nana at the play.  Yes, I caved again and I made the cookies.

Several weeks ago, Jack suggested that this might be THE year to enter the cookies in the N.C. State Fair.  At first I just joked with him about it, but then I started thinking why not.  I reached out to Angie for guidance and she along with Tom and Jack encouraged me to take this leap.  So in the days leading up to the third anniversary of Mom’s passing, I distracted myself by baking cookies.  Lots of cookies!  And I talked to Mom every step of the way.

How exciting it is that today–the actual anniversary day, the day I dread more than all the other days of the year–I learned that my cookies won first place in their category in the 2019 N.C. State Fair.  One of the most amazing things I have learned on this journey the past three years is that it is possible to experience grief and joy at the same time.  Today has been an incredibly hard day, but my heart is bursting with joy with this news.  Maybe Mom was right and these cookies are a cure-all…at least for a moment today!

 

As I am filled with dread as I approach the second anniversary of my mother’s passing, I am reminded of a simpler time that changed my outlook on love, life, and how I saw my mother.  When I was a teenager, one night Mom decided we would have a girls’ night in and watch a movie.  I don’t recall why, but the movie choice was hers and she decided it was very important for me to see The Way We Were.  For those of you not familiar with the film, it is an early 1970s film starring Barbra Streisand and Robert Redford.  It is considered to be one of the most romantic films of all time and has one of the most iconic theme songs which also happened to be one of my Mom’s favorite songs.

The story focuses on the two main characters Katie (Barbra Streisand) and Hubbell (Robert Redford) who are truly polar opposites of each other.  They meet in college, but then go their separate ways.  Their paths cross again after World War II and they fall in love.  But their love story isn’t an easy one and from my teenager point of view it seemed like they spent a lot of time arguing and breaking up and then getting back together again.

[WARNING SPOILER ALERT COMING]

One of the last scenes in the movie is when after being apart for a few years Katie and Hubbell meet by chance in front of the Plaza Hotel in New York City.  And it was right at this scene where I fell asleep!!!!  The last thing I remembered was that Katie and Hubbell saw each other and, because of the pattern of this love story throughout the rest of the movie, I just assumed they saw each other, realized their love was greater than their  differences and got back together FOREVER.  The End! Because I was young, thought I was in love, and had never gotten my heart broken that was the only ending that made sense.  I thought Katie and Hubbell were the greatest story of love overcoming all the odds ever told!  They were going to forget all the bad times and just focus on the good times.  Remember the laughter and forget the pain.  What an amazing story!

So imagine my surprise fifteen years later when AFI first published its 100 Greatest Movies of All Time.  My husband was appalled at how many of the movies on the list I had not seen so we decided we would watch all 100 movies together.  Of course, The Way We Were was on the list and I was excited about watching this triumphant love story.  As all of you who have seen the movie know (and those of you who haven’t probably now have guessed), Katie and Hubbell do not get back together.  This story is heartbreaking and by the time Katie’s hand brushes Hubbell’s hair in the last scene, I was a sobbing mess!!!  By this point in my life, my own heart had been broken more than once and I knew all too well that sometimes love wasn’t enough to keep two people together.  They were remembering the way they WERE, not thinking about the way they were going to be.  They weren’t laughing.  I wasn’t laughing.  I was in pain.  What a horrible story!

The next day I called my mother.  “Why would you let me think all these years that they got back together?” I asked.  “My version of the story for all this time was wrong!”  Her response was only “I liked your version better.”  Years later, we stood at that same spot in front of the Plaza Hotel in New York City and laughed about it.  She asked me which version I liked better–the one I thought was the ending or the one that really was the ending.  I thought about it awhile and admitted that the real ending was the better ending.  As heartbreaking as it was, it was the most realistic and that was part of its beauty.  My mom said “Sometimes the version you like best is the version that need most at that time in your life. A lot things in your life are going to have a sad ending eventually, but that doesn’t mean the ending isn’t beautiful or you don’t have happy times getting to the ending.  Focus on the good.”

I don’t know why it was important that night for us to watch The Way We Were and I don’t really know why she didn’t show me the real ending when I woke up or watch it with me again later so I’d know the truth.  But I know she decided at that time that it was more important for me to think that love would conquer all.  I also think in her own way she wanted me to stand up for my own beliefs and have my own opinions and not worry about whether some boyfriend would love me or not if I voiced them.  After all, in my world at that time, Hubbell loved (and stayed with) Katie no matter what.  It was important to my mom that I, like Katie, be true to myself.  I think that was the version I needed most at that time in my life.

October 17th is a sad day for me.  No matter what I say or do, I’m going to be sad.  But it’s also a day for me to celebrate my mom’s life and all she meant to me so that’s what I’m going to try to do.  I’m going to focus on the good and the laughter.  Because I like that version better.

Memories may be beautiful and yet
What's too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget
So it's the laughter we remember
Whenever we remember
The way we were

It seems so unreal that almost a  year has passed since that day my husband came to my office to tell my mother had passed away.  Twelve months, 52 weeks. 365 days, 8,760 hours, 525,600 minutes, 31,536,000 seconds–it really doesn’t matter what increment of time I use to measure, the fact remains that not a single moment has passed where my mom is not in my thoughts.  So much has happened in that time.  Without a doubt, I am not the same person I was a year ago.  This has by far been the most difficult year of my life, but that doesn’t mean that there has not been an abundance of joy and blessings in my life this past year–some days, I just had to look a little harder to see them.

My mother had me a month shy of her 19th birthday.  In many ways, I felt like we grew up together.  I envisioned a life of growing old with her–one mother/daughter adventure at a time.  She was my biggest critic, but also my biggest cheerleader.  She was my best friend.  Her passing was a complete shock and I was completely unprepared for what my new future without her would be like.  Most of this past year has been a complete blur to me.

I know the timing of her death was part of God’s plan and I try not to question the whys or struggle with the what ifs, but if I could go back in time, I would give myself this letter–not to change the outcome, but to prepare myself for what was to come—–

Dear Me,

When Tom walks into your office tomorrow and gives you the most devastating news you can imagine, trust me when I tell you that you will be okay.  You are going to be changed forever, but you are going to be okay.  But there are some things I want you to know that may make the road before you just a little easier–

1. You are weaker than you think you are.  I know you try to focus on staying strong and positive in difficult situations, but this is going to be totally different from anything you have ever faced before.  You are not only going to be sad, but you are going to feel emotions like you have never really felt before.  You are going to be angry, frustrated, disappointed, jealous, afraid, every negative emotion you can think of you are going to feel.  Some days you will feel one negative emotion.  Other days you might feel all of them at once.  It will be overwhelming.  You will have anxiety attacks.  Some days you will not sleep. Some days you will sleep too much.  You will get a cold that will last for months.  There are days when you are going to be a horrible wife and mother.  You will forget birthdays and anniversaries of friends.  You are going to be easily annoyed at people and things.  You are going to scream and cry in your parent’s kitchen for an hour because you don’t know where the recipe is for the dressing for Thanksgiving and then you are going to cry again when you finally find the recipe.  You are going to cry in the middle of Hobby Lobby on the day after Thanksgiving for no reason at all.   A little over nine months later you are going to cry at Starbucks when you order your first pumpkin spice latte of the season and realize you can’t call her to brag that you got one before she did this year.  You are going to cry in more public places than you ever thought possible and you will be mortified.  For years you have thought of three things you are grateful for at the end of each day.  Now days will go by and you won’t think of anything.  Not because you are not grateful anymore, but because it hurts to think some days.  But I promise you that you will be okay.
2. You are stronger than you think you are.  I know you will find this hard to believe, but even on your worse days, you are going to get out of bed and face your day.  For the first time in your life, you are going to make decisions completely on your own.  You will host your annual holiday brunch that you and Mom started and your friends will come not only because they want to support you, but because they need this tradition to support them.  You will be a better a friend to other friends that face similar loss.  You will be a better, stronger wife and mother for Tom and Jack when you are faced with another loss a few months from now when Tom’s father, John passes away.  In a year, you will look back at everything you have done and be amazed.  It doesn’t seem possible right now, but you will go on without Mom.  You are a strong woman because you were raised by a strong woman and you will be okay.
3. People that you care about are going to disappoint you.  At first you won’t notice, but after some weeks go by you will realize that friends you thought you could count on haven’t reached out to you.  No card, no flowers, no post on Facebook.  Months will go by and you may run into some of these friends and they may act like nothing has happened.   Others will apologize and say they haven’t reached out because they couldn’t think of what to say.    Others will try to comfort you by comparing the loss of your mother to the time their dog died.  Still others will be angry at you and accuse of you of changing, of not being the same person, of not moving on in the appropriate amount of time. Others will look to you for comfort and support and you will be upset because you have none to give.  Some of these friends you will realize truly do care about you, but they are scared because we are of an age where many of us are losing our parents and they don’t want to be the next member of this club.  Some of these friends you will realize weren’t really friends at all.  Some of these friends you will forgive and move on; some of these friends will not go any further on this journey with you.  You will mourn the loss of the friendships, the loss of your mother, and the loss of the person you were, but I promise you that you will be okay.
4. People that you care about are going to amaze you.   I know you are thankful for your friends and family, but you really have no idea how amazing some of the people God has put in your life really are.  You have always said that you are so lucky to have family that are your friends and friends that are your family, but now you will see how true that really is.  There will be food and cards and flowers, but these people  are going to comfort you and lift you up in ways you can’t even imagine.  You won’t realize it until later, but you some of your friends will  set up a friend help line of sorts to take turns staying up at night to be available for you those nights you can’t sleep.   You will post a meme on Facebook that says “The devil whispered in my ear ‘You can’t handle the storm.’ / The next day I whispered back ‘I am the storm’.”  A few days later you will receive a bracelet in the mail with the words “I am the storm.”  You have your suspicions, but you will never find out who sent you this bracelet.   You will have a friend that will set up a system where anytime you are feeling overwhelmed, you can text her a flower emoji and she will stop what she is doing to pray for you.  You have friends that you have lost touch with over the years reach out to you to share a favorite memory of Mom.  You have friends that have also lost their mothers that will help guide you on this new journey.  You will meet other women who have lost their mothers and they will become instant friends because they know your heart without you saying a word.  Mom’s friends are going to are going to wrap their arms around you and hold you tight.  There are things you are going to wish Mom told you–listen closely, God is going to put people in your path that are going to share stories that Mom told them or something that Mom told them in passing.  In these stories or comments, you will hear what you need and you will be okay.
5. There are no words that can make this better.  There are two posts on Facebook that you have read recently–one is a guideline of what a person should or should not say to someone is grieving; the other is a guideline of whom should comfort whom based on how close you are to the inner circle.  Both of these are excellent posts, but the reality for you is it doesn’t really matter what someone says or does not say.  You are not going to remember most of it anyway.  But you will remember who was there for you.  Although your grief will be great, so will be the grief of your father who loses his wife of 46 years, your brother who also loses his mother, your child who loses his Nana, your husband who loses his second mother of almost 20 years,  your family and friends who knew her before any of you did who lose their cousin and/or childhood best friend, all of her friends who lose their rock, their support, their confidante.  Everyone’s grief is great and in the end, the only way for any of you to bear the tremendous weight is to comfort each other.  There are no words that can make this better.  There is no magic time formula or remedy to fix this.  The only way to get through this is to just keep moving forward–some days alone, some days with these amazing people beside you.  But even though nothing will make this better, you will be okay.
6. But when there are no words, there are still prayers.  On the worst days, you will pray for peace, comfort and strength.  On the best days, you will pray with thanksgiving and grace.  On all days, you will feel the prayers of others for you.  God will get you through this and you will be okay.
7. Look for the signs.  Some days it will be pennies found in unusual places; some days a cardinal will almost seem to be following you everywhere you go.  One day months from now, you will finally open a book that you gave Mom when you were in college about mothers and daughters.  Inside the book will be pictures of the two of you that you have never seen before and a poem that someone gave your grandmother, Bee, after your great-grandmother passed away.  The last part of the poem reads “Remember that your loved one is always near when you need her/She has only stepped through the veil of this present time/And she will be waiting for you to join her some beautiful day/For God will bless you too, just follow Him and you won’t be left behind.”  You’ve never seen this poem before and you don’t remember the person who wrote it, but I believe just like the poem comforted Bee at that time, this poem was a great comfort to Mom after Bee died and she put the poem in that book for you to find when you needed it most.  All of these signs will  remind you that Mom is with you and  you will be okay.

There are going to be some tough days ahead and nothing is ever going to be the same.  Cry when you need to. Go ahead and laugh when you can and don’t feel guilty about it. Pray every chance you get it.  Talk to Mom every day.  If there is a rocking chair near by, sit in it for a while.  If a Rod Stewart song comes on, turn the radio up.   Put on lipstick and brush your hair every day no matter how bad you feel.  Buy new books. Never say no when someone asks if you want to go to Starbucks.  Plan a trip and when you come home from that trip start planning another.  Celebrate every day.  Because these are the things Mom taught you to do and wants you to do.  I promise you you will be okay.

   Love,

   Me (A Year Later)

 

This is one of my favorite photos with my parents–not because it’s an especially good photo (well, it’s not a horrible photo of me even if I do have a really big ’80s hairdo, but my parents look miserable).  This photo is a favorite because of the history and lesson it represents-

This picture was taken on November 19, 1988 in the auditorium of my old high school.  It was taken just minutes after the Talledega County Junior Miss pageant.  I am smiling because the pageant was over, I had had fun, and I was looking forward to hanging out with my friends afterwards.  In that moment, I was happy. My parents are not smiling.  Earlier that same day, my Dad had accepted a transfer position with Avondale Mills in North Carolina–500 miles from my hometown! The only town I had ever known!  The only town my parents had ever known!  This was a great opportunity for my Dad, but before he and Mom could really be excited about this new venture, he had two major roadblocks to overcome–he had to tell my younger brother and me.  In that moment, they were not happy.

Looking back, I know my parents were excited about this opportunity and I am sure my brother (at that time a freshman in high school) had his own issues with this announcement, but I was a senior in high school and truly felt the world revolved around me.  In my mind, this was absolutely the worst possible thing to ever happen and my parents were the worst parents ever to ruin my life this way.  Nothing prepared me for this.  I had plans for my future.  Nothing would ever be the same.    By the time the roll of film was developed, I looked at this photo as moment right before everything I knew changed forever.  I hated this photo and everything it represented!  But for some reason, I kept the picture.  In that moment, I was far from happy.

Months went by.  My Dad started his new job.  But my parents decided that it would be best if I completed my senior year of high school in Alabama so my family lived in two different states for awhile.  A few days after graduation I moved to North Carolina and whether intentionally or not, I set out to make everyone around me as miserable as I was.  I never intended to stay in North Carolina–I had plans to return to Alabama in the fall to start college, but by the end of that summer, I realized that I didn’t want to be so far away from my family and I decided to stay.  I remember looking at this picture around that same time  at laughing at it.  How ridiculous we looked – me so oblivious to what was just around the corner and my parents dreading what was to come!  The fact that they do look so unhappy also showed me how much they loved my brother and me.  The decision to move was not a decision they made lightly and the only way it would work was if my brother and I were okay.  They made huge sacrifices and allowances to make the best of the situation for both of us. Maybe they didn’t set out to ruin my life after all.  In the moment that I first laughed, I wasn’t quite happy yet, but I wasn’t miserable anymore either.

Years went by.  I graduated from college, got married, bought a home, started a family—all in North Carolina.  At some point (I’m not sure when), I started to call North Carolina home.  I never stopped calling Alabama home though.  I just consider myself blessed to have both.  I would often look back on the picture.  In those moments, I was happy again and grew to love this photo more and more.

My Mom never liked the photo and often asked why I kept it.  My only copy of the color version of this photo is currently being restored because it appears my mother may have set her coffee mug on it!!  (Thanks Mom!)  To me the photo represents so much more than the moment in time it captures.  Yes, this photo was taken right before my world changed forever and is a true indicator that life can change in an instant.  Nothing prepared me either for the moment my Mom passed away.  I had plans for my future with my Mom.  Nothing will ever be the same.  But to me this photo is also proof to me that I can, have and will overcome my darkest days.  Just like I will now. And in that thought, I feel maybe not happiness but definitely hope.

When I turned 40, my husband gave me my first Pandora bracelet.  So I would always remember this special birthday, he asked my family and some friends to each purchase a Pandora charm that either reminded them of me or  was something they wanted me to look at that would remind me of them.

One of the charms that my husband gave me was a Queen Bee.  He chose this charm because I called my maternal grandmother Bee.  I grew up in a small town and my grandmother knew everyone or at least what family everyone was a part of.  She loved to read and in my eyes, she was an expert on everything.  Not in a “know it all way” but in a way that any time I had a question, I knew whom to go to for the answer.  It makes perfect sense that at one time my grandmother sold World Book encyclopedia.  I am sure she read every one-A-Z.  My mother was an only child.  When my grandmother was diagnosed with a brain tumor, I dropped out of college to return to Alabama to assist both my mother and grandmother.  While watching my grandmother die was a painful process, it was a beautiful journey for my mom and I to share together and brought us much closer.  For years afterwards, my mother and I would exchange presents (books, scarves, plants, etc.) and would write on the card “This is something I think Bee would want you to have” or when stumped with finding an answer, we would say “I think this is what Bee would tell us to do.”  My husband chose that charm to remind me that although Bee is not physically with me, she is still with my in spirit and is my beacon in everything I do.

My mother loved Buddha statues.  When she was a child, her father traveled a lot.  When he was gone, she would always ask him to bring her a treat when he came home.  One time he brought her a Buddha figurine.  She always thought the  figurines would bring her luck so it was no surprise that the one of the charms my mother selected for my bracelet was a Buddha statue.  When she gave it to me, she told me that was so both she and the luck of Buddha would always be with me.

My mother passed away on October 17, 2016.  Before her memorial service, I moved both the bee charm and the Buddha charm to another bracelet.  I am lost without my Mom, but I feel like she is always with me.  The Buddha and the bee on my bracelet remind me that was raised by strong women to be a strong woman and I will be okay–maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually I will be okay.

This blog is my reminder of better days of the Buddha, Bee and me.