A hummingbird was fluttering outside my window this morning when I woke up, looking at me occasionally as it sifted through the flowers. I know the bird is a symbol for melanoma - not quite a positive image - but it's one that's popped up a number of times since my mom passed away. Several people have noticed them hanging around more and it's hard not to find significance in that.
Three years ago, I drove up from Cal Poly for a Pink Beret reunion weekend at Nancy's. On Saturday, all the ladies that had joined my mom in visiting me in Paris got together to share pictures, eat Flower Flour cakes, and sit around and talk all day. Her friends were all so selfless in caring for my mom, helping her move around since at this point the tumors in her brain limited her movement. I had never seen my mom so helpless or friends so committed.
The next day, she was exhausted, laying on Nancy's guest bed and nursing her throbbing head. I was so confused by the whole situation - I wasn't sure if I should stay or not, so I guiltily head back to Cal Poly. After I left, she apparently told the ladies "I want Val". Little did I know that was our last weekend together.
Three years ago exactly, my dad called me in a panic, saying I should come up as soon as possible, seeing as Mom's condition was rapidly deteriorating. I told Emily about the call and she immediately threw my stuff together and drove me up to San Jose. We pulled up to O'Connor Hospital after-hours and we rushed in. As I walked into the hospital room, I saw my family and loved ones all huddled around this person that surely couldn't be my mom. Less than 15 minutes after I arrived, she passed away. I guess she really did want me to be there.
Three years ago, I started a cycle of regret for not being there for her more, denial about her condition and then her death just to get through the next few years of school, and latent anger.
Three years later, it's still so surreal. When I wake up in the morning, I half expect to hear her footsteps on the hardwood floors, breaking the silence of the morning. Whenever I come across her old emails, I'm incredulous that someone so vivacious and loving isn't here anymore. Where does all that energy and life go? Is human life like a match, burning to the irreversible end?
I am so thankful for everyone in my life. For Emily, for driving me home that night, for talking to all my professors the next day to extend my midterms, for not letting me be alone that year. For my roommates, close friends, and Relayers, who both understood and tried harder for me, whether by flying up to visit or patiently listening to my complaints. For all the people who went out of their way to touch base and provide me with some sort of stability.
My dad and I visited Mom's grave this afternoon and discussed how no one talks about my mom anymore, which is understandable given how early she passed. While I'm planning on making my blogs in the future more uplifting, I'm hoping this space can be used for thoughts or memories about my mom, in addition to whatever you feel like posting.
I have so much to say about your mom, Val, because how could someone know her and NOT have stories to tell. Back in the day, when I was a scraggly little insecure kid, Michelle made me feel welcome wherever she was. Whether we were in your house, or on vacation, or getting ice cream, she put me at ease and made me feel like she was happy I was there. I think she must have done that for a lot of people. She was just warm.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, I think I've told you about some of these before, but certain random things always make me think of Michelle. They're all parts of really happy memories involving your mom. For example: Entenmann's donuts, bingo, s'mores, most Beatles songs, Provencal decoration, tent cabins, bright red lipstick (that must be a dance recital thing?), french braids, plastic hair curlers, and hats with feathers in them.
Also, you. You remind me of your mom so much when you get all of your random friends together to hang out, and when I see you so committed to living your life in a way that brings you joy, and when you manage to make me laugh at myself and feel entirely welcome and accepted at the same time. You know I hope you have the best year, yet, and I love you.
Some of my fondest memories of Michelle are us shopping and planning our vacations whether they were a mini trip to shopping, B&B’s or a cruise.
ReplyDeleteWe clicked the moment we met. She engages with people immediately and soon becomes your friend. I honestly can’t remember her really being judgmental or criticizing anyone, except maybe GW Bush.
We could talk for hours about everything and yet about nothing at all. We talked on the phone at least two or three times a week, just to check up on each other or to plan our escapades. She was such a joy to be around. I loved her contagious laugh and her smile always brightened up the whole room. And not to mention her hugs when she saw you. I miss those hugs and greetings the most...
The one thing that I regretted was not going to France with her after 9/11. I was too scared to get on a plane, but not her she went by herself. After her illness she taught me a valuable lesson, not to be afraid of doing what you want to do or to go where you want to go when an opportunity arises.
Val, your mother was the bravest woman I ever met. Even through her tough times she never showed any fear. She lived to the fullest and that was truly her gift to the rest of us.
You are so much like your mother; brave, adventure some, kind and smart. I know no matter where you go she will be with you spiritually and I know she is so proud of you, as we all are.
I want you to know that your mom will never be forgotten. I have a picture of the two of us in my office. I talk to her when I work in there. I still tell her that I miss her. She will forever be in our hearts. I hope that when my time comes to leave this world that she will be waiting for me at the gate; with a glass of wine and a list of shopping places.
Love,
Jenny H.
P.S. Thanks for sharing your adventures!
I FINALLY found my way to your blog!!!! I am eager to catch up on your adventure. I am so touched about your comments about your mother and my dear friend (and sister-in-law). A day does not go by that I do not think of her- after all, she has the corner of my bathroon dedicated to her!! I miss her dearly.
ReplyDeleteI am also late in catching up to your blog. I was so sad to read your regrets about your Mom's last days, and I want you to know that she was adamant about not interfering with your schooling. She saw you as her "emissary" (her word) of good health and wanted you to accomplish whatever achievements you strove for. It was such a shock that she didn't have more time, you couldn't have known. I think of her everyday and, even though she isn't really here, she does still live in my heart and in my life. I still call on her dear friendship and wise counsel, knowing what she would say to me about this or that. I so admired and still do, that her life was fully lived. I miss her as much today as I did the day we all lost her. She and your Dad built a beautiful family and family of friends. Anyone who knew her would know that your Turtle Year as well as Chaz' travels would be a source of great pride for her.
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