“Parent’s headstone,” that’s two words that I would have never expected to be saying or thinking about for years to come, yet here I am now.
It finally came in last week, and this afternoon Chase and I road out to Chatsworth to take a look at it. We’re supposed to take a look at it before they take it to McCaysville and set it in place. It was in a fenced in area so we were only able to look at the most important side of it from a distance, although the back will have some things on it as well. I honestly don’t think that we could have picked out a more perfect stone. This exact stone was the one at the funeral home as you walked in. When we all first saw it, we knew that it was the one. The cabin on it is a touch that really touches all of us, because it was Mom’s dream to have their cabin finished so that my parents could spend the rest of their lives together in it. It (their cabin) has not changed at all since the last day that my Mom and Dad were up there working on it, but I know one day we will finish it. Dad said Mom made him promise her one of the last times they were there, that if something were to happen to her, that he would still finish it. So we will.
Christmas in my adult life was never about presents, never about what I was going to get or any built-up excitement over receiving material things. Of course I was always grateful for anything that I did receive, but that was never what Christmas was about for me. Christmas was the time of year that never changed in which our family would get together. That’s what made it special. The day that no matter what, wouldn’t be missed by anyone.
When we were growing up, my Mom’s side of the family would all go to her Mother’s place on Christmas Day, and Thanksgiving as well. I can barely remember any of it now to be honest. It was always a large sized group, my family, aunts, uncles, cousins, pretty much everyone. She had an apartment off of Murray Ave, that even with the fact that it was a small place, worked perfectly.
I sometimes catch myself fixing to ask Dad when I see him, how Mom is feeling—and it hits me. Sometimes on Facebook, some photos will show up in the sidebar of Mom either from holidays, or some mobile uploads from Baltimore—and it hits me. Every day when we come home from work, and Mom isn’t at the kitchen door waving to greet us—it hits me. When I scroll through my contact list on my phone, and run across “Mom”—it hits me. One day last week we were eating lunch with our SIL, and I said, “So how’s M…” because for weeks she was seeing her each morning before we met up for lunch, and naturally—it hit me. When we’re laying out steak or chicken or something to fix for dinner, and I miscount because I can’t get used there being 4-5, instead of 5-6—it hits me.
And every time it hits me, it hurts.
I wouldn’t doubt that every one of us dreamed about Mom last night. Right now I was supposed to be sitting in a waiting room, worrying about her as she had her surgery. For this was supposed to be the day. The day that she was supposed to endure another operation to be healed of the horrible cancer and give us many more years with her. The day that we could walk into the hospital room and feel the happiness and love from her and us fill the room from seeing each other again afterwords. The day from which my Mom & Dad would start making special plans for their 40th wedding anniversary next July. The day that I would thank God for giving my family a second miracle in a single year. But that’s just the way that I thought things were supposed to happen, not Him. Perhaps the surgery wasn’t going to go well, or they were going to have complications. Perhaps life afterwords would have been miserable for Mom. Or perhaps even worse.
I want to first say that this wasn’t due to lack of effort. My brother and SIL put a lot of effort in trying to make it be as normal as possible, and I thank you two greatly for that. And I’m sorry that it didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to.
It sucked because the first Thanksgiving without Mom couldn’t have gone any other way. Thanksgiving and Christmas was Mom’s two favorite holidays. She was so excited about Thanksgiving this year. The last doctor appointment that Dad took her to, she made sure with the doctor that she would be able to have some turkey and other things on Thanksgiving, even if her surgery was on the 29th. She was so excited that he said yes. Every few days for the prior few weeks Mom would ask us something about Thanksgiving, or mention getting things ready for it. She couldn’t wait.
Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.
Robert Brault
There’s countless little things that I notice day-to-day that make my aching heart ache even more. The picture above is of a couple of the last notes that my Mom wrote for us to find when they would leave in the mornings on the weekends to go to the mountains. Notes like these I will forever miss.
The little things were always the big things. The missing little things are the daily reminders that what happened is real, and the little things that would have been, can now no longer be.
I was one that always liked when it was time to set the time back in the Fall. Primarily because TV shows were back on, and I enjoyed my family and I all in the living room watching our shows, discussions during commercials or grabbing a quick snack or ice cream during them. It was such a warm feeling, one that made you feel completely comfortable. One that made Monday’s worth looking forward to, and even though I’m way behind on leaving the nest, I think my parents very much enjoyed the time in the evenings that we spent together.
But now, even as much as we are trying to make the evenings enjoyable, and spend time together, it just doesn’t feel right. Not with Mom not being there. The place where she always sat is now empty, and the house feels so much colder, empty, and less like home. I think that’s because home isn’t necessarily a place, but more so the people and the atmosphere that they create. And Mom was a huge part of that in our house—an irreplaceable part.
You know those hugs that only Moms can give? Those that make everything seem okay? Give your Mom one of the tightest, most loving hugs you can when you see her next, and never leave her w/o giving her one.
I now know what it’s like to never be able to get one again, and it’s killing me. I’d give everything I have for just one more of those hugs.
That’s my advice, give them to her and get them from her every chance you get. Life is short, life is fragile, and you’ll never know when you’ll never be able to again.
A week ago today, I lost the most important woman in my life with the most unexpectedness possible. November 4th couldn’t have began any more perfect than it did. Mom was feeling great, almost to the point that you would think that she was perfectly fine. Almost like she wasn’t engaged in the second battle of her life this year. We all shared many laughs that morning, as we often did, before leaving for work, and exchanged hugs and “I love you’s”. Mom & Dad had this thing they’d do, where if they weren’t gone to work or to doctor appointments, by the time we could back out of the driveway, they’d be on the front porch to wave goodbye. They were always on the front porch to wave when any of us left.
Mom was scheduled to have surgery to remove the colon cancer on the 29th, and was getting ready that day to have a new MRI done of her head to make sure she would be okay for surgery. She did soo well through chemo and radiation, and was soo happy she was beating this. She was already making plans for a family get-together, Thanksgiving, all kinds of things. Dad didn’t have a job that morning, something I am so thankful for, and was able to spend those few hours with her and eat breakfast together, just the two of them.
Today was Mom’s last day of chemo and radition for a few weeks. Chase and I took half the day off to go with her and Alicia down to Rome to see the Oncologist. Mom was way excited that we went with her since it was her last visit for a few weeks, and we made it in time to eat lunch at Firehouse Subs before going to the doctor’s office. The doctor was pleased with how well she has done this far. Right now, they are planning on hopefully doing surgery in 4-5 weeks, assuming it gets cleared to do so with her other doctor. And then she will get back on a cycle of chemo for about 4 months.
Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.
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