Dear Mom,

 

Dear Mom,

I started on this letter to you on what would have been your 74th birthday, instead I decided to wait and finish it today: 1 month since you've been gone. 

This letter has been in my heart to write for a long time now, and I would rather have had the chance to say all of this to you while you were still alive, but as we both believe "things happen for a reason", so I have to believe that this is one of those times. 

And maybe this conversation wouldn't have been well received at that time... who knows?

I think there was just too much hurt, anger, and misunderstanding between the both of us to be able to see where the other was coming from. Though you are gone now, I just want to "tell you" some things that I couldn't do while you were alive. 

I'd like to first say that while I understand now as to why you didn't make me your Power of Attorney, it hurt me deeply that you kept your disease a secret from me for so long. You knew if I had any kind of access to your medical records, and I would have searched for any kind of indication/information that would have led me to the diagnosis that I was given for you on the night of September 16, 2023, that forever changed both of our lives.

I know you didn't want to be without Carl, and for years had been worried that you would outlive him (and you did). So, in a way, this terminal diagnosis was a blessing in disguise. You knew it would end in your death and end your loneliness & longing to be with your husband once again.

What bothered me was that you did not give me the chance to tell you that I understood why you did what you did. That I understood and accepted a LONG time ago my place in your life, always 2nd to a man. Being 2nd to Carl was not something I resented you for. Carl saved BOTH of our lives, and I will forever be grateful for him. 

I did not and will not hold a grudge against you for not getting treatment for your disease when you could & should have; I understand you wanted so badly to be with your husband, I get it. I also noticed that when the news of his passing was conveyed to you, you never shed a tear. At least not to anyone around you. You must have done your grieving in private or didn't grieve much at all because you knew it was a matter of time before you would be seeing him "on the other side."

.I wish you would have put a little more faith in me and allowed me to show you understanding and empathy, instead of doing what you do best: keep everything a damn secret. Showing me that you still do not believe I have ever grown up emotionally and mentally. If anyone has to take the blame for that, it is YOU. You were the one who raised me... and maybe on some level, you did blame yourself.

It saddens me that you could not see that I grew up to be very determined to be successful and an ambitious woman you could be proud of to call your daughter. Maybe you did, but I rarely if ever heard that from you. Praise for others came easily from you, but hardly ever for me. 

Aunt Helen helped clear up and educated me on the severe dysfunction that you and your siblings grew up with. Apparently "praise" was not something that was recognized, only faults that were acknowledged with violent punishments. It's hard to believe that Grandma never told you and your siblings that you made her happy or proud, Grandpa on the other hand... his blatant disregard of everyone's feelings or needs, that I can believe.

Mom, I want you to know that I get it now. I understand why you were the way you were. It was the result of a toxic childhood that you never truly got help for. Yes, you went to therapy in the past, but it didn't last long, and you went through a few therapists before giving up. 

I know you know that it takes WORK to heal from trauma of any sort; especially generational, but I also know that you had the tendency to avoid anything that resembled work in that regard. It was just easier to exude your authority over a child and surround yourself with people that would put up with your behaviors. It didn't go unnoticed as to how many "friends" came and went throughout your life. Especially who stayed and who left.

I'm not writing this letter out of spite; on the contrary. I'm writing it because it is therapeutic and to show that even though I kept my mouth shut most of my life when it came to you... but that I saw and understood more than you gave me credit for. Of course, I do not think that by some spiritual miracle that you would be able to see this blog on the world wide web, but that you would be able to "see" from wherever you are, what's in my heart & mind (this blog).

I also want you to know that I did what you asked of me when I first learned of your terminal cancer, and that was to see a therapist.

I was planning on doing that anyway because I was scared and afraid not knowing how I would handle dealing with the reality of your mortality, as well as I have never really been without you in my life in some capacity. In a way, you have always been my "security blanket" and now I was facing the end of having that. Facing the end of ever hearing your voice, seeing your face, spending time laughing at stupid shit I'd find on Instagram to share with you, running to you with any problem I was facing at the moment, facing The End of you. You have been the only constant in my life, so I knew this was not going to be easy for me. 

I really like my therapist a lot, and I have a long way to go to recognize, understand, forgive, and heal from my childhood that has caused and continues to plague me well into my adulthood. 

Yes, my childhood and the fucked up things that happened in it is your fault. There was no way I could have controlled any of that bullshit. And it was, absolute Bullshit. 

Do I think you could have done better? Absolutely! But you did as your parents did to you: the psychological, emotional, and physical abuse that you yourself were raised with. Was it right? No. And I believe you knew that. I also felt that in a lot of ways you were jealous and resentful of me.

Jealous because I chose a different life path that wasn't riddled with adult responsibilities at a young age, and resentful because I was a 24-hour reminder of a relationship that I believe you forced in some way. There was manipulation coming from both sides of your first marriage. I'm not blaming you 100% for everything that went wrong there... but you willingly married a man who had repeatedly told you he did not want children when you knew you did and married him anyway. Had a child by him anyway...

It takes 2 to create a life, so he's not off the hook either here. But this isn't about him. This is about you and I.

Yes, I blamed you for cheating me out of a 2-parent family unit as I sooo badly wanted a father like all my other friends had, as well as a sibling because I was extremely lonely. I don't know how you couldn't have seen that?? We moved 28 times from the time I was born until my sophomore year in high school. That is TOO DAMN MUCH! It messed with my education and social group(s) BAD.

So much so, that instead of taking responsibility for me struggling in school as a result of almost constantly changing the school/district I was put in, you convinced me that I was dumb and had a "learning disability." I grew up believing that crap when the real issue was you not being able to stay in 1 spot for more than 5 minutes. I think this was the cruelest stunt you pulled on me, and that says A LOT due to you not only being incredibly selfish, but having been described as Emotionally Unavailable, Emotionally Immature, and a Narcissistic Parent. 

Do you know how incredibly painful that is to hear about your own mom??? It CRUSHED ME.

Again, those descriptions are as a result of your own childhood experiences growing up with those exact kind of parents. I just wish you would have broken that cycle... Instead, I did. 

I don't mean for this "letter to you" as an internet ass-chewing, but letting you know how I feel and felt. It was not easy being your daughter and I wouldn't want to do it again; just know it tears me apart to admit that as I do love you to pieces. I just couldn't do this again with anyone. I believe the toxic household that you were raised in, directly caused the deaths of your eldest brother and baby sister.

Knowing that, and having been present for both of their funerals, I would have expected you to have done the exact opposite when raising your own child. There were times that I prayed to God to let me go so I could be happy. I felt more like a burden to you and those around me, than a blessing.

You had pawned me off on other family members and some friends from time to time, only to send a check to pay for my existence in their households until it was time for me to come home. I need you to know that hurt me deeply. Feeling that my own mother who tried so hard to keep me after having 6 miscarriages, doesn't want me around. I didn't know how to rectify that back then. 

Because of the conversations I've had with Aunt Helen and my cousin, it makes complete sense. In a way due to that understanding that I have now, I can forgive some. But not all. I know you knew better and still chose yourself and whatever man you were involved with at the time.

I think you thought that by having a child that you would always have someone that would unconditionally love you, and I did and still do. But you didn't factor in hurt and resentment for the way you treated me, especially when I needed you the most. 

I can thank you for the thick skin I've come to have, but I know that most of that is an unhealthy coping mechanism for which I am having to now deal with in a healthy way because I don't want to put anyone else around me through the crap I have gone through anymore.

It doesn't serve me well. It never did. I was just too stubborn and immature to see, much less admit to it.

What I can Thank You for is loving me, as much as you knew how to. 

The way you showed love wasn't so much in words or direct actions, but you made sure I had a roof over my head, food in my mouth, and on occasion, a pet to love. 

Even now after your death, you made sure that physically (for the most part) that I wouldn't want for anything. Yes, you left behind A LOT OF STUFF, but there wasn't much that I had to acquire for myself then and even now. I'm having to give away quite a bit of things that I will not or ever use. 

A fridge & freezer FULL of food, an apartment for the next 6 months to live in, a car that is paid off, a house & motorcycle that I will get 1/2 of the sale prices from, and a dog that means the world to me, is what you left to me, and I am extremely grateful for that! Thank You for it all. Even after your death, you are still "taking care of me." 

Those kinds of things were your "Love Language." I'm sure you would have preferred a different kind of "language" from me as well, I'm sorry that we couldn't have figured and worked this out between us while you were alive. Maybe in another lifetime we will get it right.

Bottom Line: I just need you to know that Yes, there were MANY things that hurt and affected me in ways that I do not believe you would have anticipated or really cared about, but that I understand some of why you did what you did, and after your death, more information keeps getting revealed. The revelations of the abuse you endured even as an adult while I was still a child, broke me. I cannot imagine what it was doing/had done to you. You didn't show much, and when you did, it was enough of a "shit show" that even Helen Keller could see and hear what was going on. 

I'm sorry that life, until Carl, had failed you so badly. I'm sorry that I wasn't the perfect daughter you always dreamed about. I tried, I really did until I just couldn't do anything right, and yet I still tore myself apart trying to make you happy and proud of me.

I know in my later years you said you didn't know why I thought that you weren't, but that was because for years you talked to me just like your parents did to you... not very nice and only pointed out everything wrong with you. I'm sorry you had to go through that. And when I say I know how you feel... I DO. 

I do miss you and listen to the few voicemails that I still have on my cell phone from you. I was going to change carriers but after finding out that if I did that, your voicemails would be gone forever, I decided to stick with my shitty cell service. 

The dog is doing OK, she's having a hard time adjusting to the "new normal", and I hope she doesn't have too hard of a time when I have to return to work. That is my main concern with her. I have and will continue to keep my promise to you to take care of her as best I can. 

She is all I have now. It's just me and her. 

I know she misses you and Carl too. I just wish I could get into her little head to tell her that everything will be OK, it will just be different. 

Thank you for leaving her for me. I couldn't do this alone I don't think... She reminds me daily of the promise made to you and Carl, as well as I have something to love and that loves me in return. 

Right now I'm operating on a "numb mode", and am still waiting for this major outburst of emotions that most people have when they lose their close family members. I was told it would set in around 2 weeks after your passing. I think instead of experiencing that "2 week meltdown", I had a consistent series of mini meltdowns over the past few months. I've been an internal, and sometimes external wreck since the night I called 911 and got your diagnosis. 

I tried my hardest to keep my emotions in check in front of you, much like you did to me when I was a kid and there was adult level turmoil you were experiencing behind closed doors, and when it got to be too much, I just let myself cry. I knew if I kept it all held in, it wouldn't be pretty when inevitably I would explode. I had to keep it together to keep my job because I knew the outlook was bleak, and that you weren't going to make it out of this alive.

I know you really wanted to try to fight the cancer for me, but I also know you couldn't wait to see Carl again. Thank you for trying for me. I know that it was sheer hell for you, and it was heart wrenching to watch you go through the nasty side effects of the chemo paired with the extreme disease advancement diligently and slowly taking your life while you are fighting to keep it. Know that I was there just about every single day, I didn't want you to be alone even if you were unconscious due to high doses of pain meds. 

Understand that I asked for the higher doses because it was evident that the original dosage was no longer effective in managing the pain. I made peace with the fact that I would never have another coherent conversation with you again; I just needed you to be free of the pain that I was warned about by your doctor. He described it as excruciating, and I didn't want that for you. I did my best, the best I could for you. I have to believe myself that it was enough. 

As much as I miss you and Carl terribly, I can finally say that I am glad that both of you are no longer suffering. I hope and pray that you have reunited with one another on the other side and are happy once again. I did as you asked and mixed your ashes together, and in the late Spring, I will scatter you both where you asked me to. I will make sure it is somewhere beautiful. 

This letter is a mixed bag of emotions, but humans are just that. Some more than others, and I am a perfect example of the "bag overfloweth." 

I assume that it will take some years to unpack all of the issues that still bother me to this day, as well as being able to accept and call what happened to me: Abuse. 

I know you didn't set out to purposely do that to me, but it's hard to hear that is exactly what happened to me by your hands. 

I need you to know that despite it all, I did and still do love you, and will always keep you and the memories of you in my heart. Both you and Carl. Thank you for giving me a father finally. You picked the best one. 

I love and miss you both.

Love your daughter,

Trisha

Negative, "Ghost Rider", the REM Cycle is Full

 

OK, So.. Last night was a real trip sleep-wise. 😐

I had a dream that I was in the military, and I had somehow broke the handle on my barrack door. It was still attached to the door, but just dangling there.  

As 2 other females (assuming they too were enlisted; I don't remember what branch we were) came to look at said door handle, here comes freakin Tom Cruise... TOM CRUISE. WTH?!

He looked at me, my broken door handle, and gave a weird smile. He then continued to walk away down the hall that my barrack lined. As he walked away, one of the girls that was in my dream goes on to tell me that she had gone on a date with Tom Cruise, and that he was a total asshole.

As she said that, Tom then came back to where I was standing and asked me personally if I would like to join him for dinner, at Table 5, and that we would be viewing the newest Top Gun movie: "Top Gun: Maverick."

Feeling flattered at that moment? HELL YEAH 😂

I accepted his invitation despite the "rave review" that I had just gotten from one of the females in my group (one woman's "trash, could be another woman's "treasure." I make up my own mind here), and then was passed 2 pieces of paper that instructed me where to go, what time I had to be there, and a menu.

I tried to read the writing on those papers, but I usually fall short in that category. I just remember certain aspects or "symbols" if you will. 

I woke up before I could go on this "dream date" of mine and woke up pretty confused and amused. 

Here is Google once again coming in clutch 🠟

The irony of this is, that it totally checks out 😂 But WHY Tom Cruise???

I can't believe he called me out like that in my dream. He's a fine actor, but I've never "fan girled" over him. And there are tons of reports of people stating that while he is a brilliant actor, IRL he can be a huge jerk. 

Annnnnd so can I..... I think I am seeing where this dream is possibly hinting at. 

The highlighted portion is me 100% all day, every day. 

But TOM CRUISE?... just why?? I mean, if you are going to give me an actor to go on a literal "dream date" with, make it Keanu Reeves! I love that man so much 💓💓💓

Mother effing Tom Cruise... I wouldn't be so upset if there was the infamous "Volleyball scene" in this dream of mine, but NOOOO. *why am I being punished? *

I will say that Tom did look mighty handsome in his white Naval Officer suit when he approached me.

No idea what any of this craziness means, but it was nice to know that one of the world's most popular actors, picked me to "go to dinner with."

Thanks Tom for an interesting REM cycle. 

*I need to get my head checked*

*the exact facial expression when I accepted his invitation*

😂

Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beholder

 

Feeling more like a Jackson Pollock these days, wondering when I will feel better?,,,

*I feel about as "beautiful" as the aftermath of the first time I tried tequila.* 

Time is a motherf*cker, that is for sure.

Betrayal, Rejection, Abandonment... Oh My!

 

There is a vein of truth to the saying "Sarcasm gives you a lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms"; though in my case it is a whole ass body's worth. For years, and continues to be, my preferred method of not only describing the crazy shit that has happened in my life, but also how to cope with it all.

Today I had another session with my therapist (which I am really liking) and of course not everything is going to be easy or comfortable to discuss, much less admit or discover about oneself.

There were a couple of "revelation" moments, and the worst was that not only it was obvious that I have been in "non-stop survival mode" due to the choices my mother had made for me and/or the both of us that I had no say or consideration in, as well as being made to feel like I was an "obligation." 

That one hit like a bullet to the chest. It hurt.

*Link to Licensed Therapists*

It still hurts to admit that my mother abused me in multiple modalities throughout my childhood, and even still well into my adulthood. That part I could have handled much differently as I could have easily told her off, or cut her off completely, but as I have been getting educated on the tactics of these toxic parenting methods, I realize that these only serve to keep the victims right where they are.

Now that there is no threat of my mother's toxic behavior, it's "safe" to heal from it. Or at least begin to.

What they don't tell you is how upsetting, hurtful, and downright CONFUSING it is to allow someone else to describe and diagnose you with any sort of "trauma" or "abuse" that you sustained from someone that was supposed to love you. That the love they showed you was indeed: WRONG. The confusing and hurtful part was that even knowing and agreeing with everything that was described to me, I still felt empathy for my abuser and also wanted to protect her. She is my mother, and she is no longer here to defend herself.

I feel like I'm betraying her and stabbing her in the back. But I have no choice if I want to get over and heal from what had been done to me. 

It's hard to see in print the discretions of your parent that had such a negative effect you. But damn, here we are.

None of this changes the way I feel about my mom, I love her. I always will. 

If anything, I have much more empathy (to a point) and understand why she did the things she did. It was all she knew. It was what she grew up with. 

However, she would be the first to tell YOU that while you couldn't control what happened to you in your childhood, YOU DO have control over what you can do as an adult and go get some help.

I can say that she was in therapy a couple of times, but she never stuck with it. I'm not sure why, but if I had to guess it was because her therapist showed her where she was going wrong, and how to work on fixing the issues. If it was work, she wasn't about to do that. 

She would rather find someone who would just "put up with her behavior" than to actually fix what's wrong with her.

Much like how she handled her cancer diagnosis.

She ignored it. Thought it would just "go away" if she ignored it long enough. Once again, she was wrong. 

The irony here is that she kept telling me to take care of myself and not to "let things go" in her last few months of life.... Of all the things I CAN say she was that was not very nice (the truth rarely is), is a Hypocrite.

Humans at one point or another in their lives are all hypocrites. But this was somewhat a way of life for her. Do as she says, not what she does. Ugh... enough of that crap already! 

I really wish I would have started therapy earlier, and with the one I go to now. Maybe things wouldn't have been so hard in these last few months, to the last few years... 

As my cousin told me repeatedly, Things happen for a reason. There was good reason to believe that it wouldn't have been the right time for any of this back then. Maybe my mother wouldn't have appreciated experiencing her daughter's change in behavior and 0 tolerance for her bullshit.

I haven't been a total "doormat" but it has come close. I kept getting the "honor your parents" speech for years. To that I say, "only if they are honorable." Of course, I'm not advocating acting like a 5-star asshole to your folks, just don't take their shit if it's unwarranted.

The weird part is, even now, I'd give just about anything to hear my mom again. Even if that meant her yelling at me, blaming me for things I didn't do, etc.

Even if that meant being "abused". 

And this is why I'm in therapy. That is not a healthy "desire." And I'm happy to now be able to recognize that. 

*Link to Headway. Find yourself a Therapist*

Random Access Memories

Random Access Memories *Full Album*

 What does Daft Punk have to do with today's post? Absolutely nothing aside from one of their album titles that I thought was fitting.

Also, Im a big fan of theirs, so this was just a "happy coincidence" 😊

It is more like Random Memories that defined today. Some good, and 1 that gave me the ick.

I needed to get a jump on going through and bagging up my mom's clothes for donation to the local Women's Shelter. She has A LOT of clothes. I mean A LOT. It could clothe 2 third world countries of women. 

I kept very little as she was a petite woman so the majority of the clothes she owned were too short for me, and some too large. I'm pretty happy that practically nothing of hers in the clothing department was anything I was attached to. 

But GOOD LORD! I have loaded up my car with several large garbage bags that are designated for outdoor yard clippings, so they are much bigger than the traditional trash bags used inside the home. I cannot see out of the back of my car as the whole back seat up to the roof is blocked by black trash bags, and the trunk is basically spring loaded with bags that are stuffed with ladies clothing.

TONS MORE where this came from!

Web Link to Shelters to Donate to

After about 2 hours of bagging my mother's clothing up, I naturally gravitated towards other items that I wanted to go through and decide whether it stays or goes.

Enter: A little black book 

I had not seen or recognized this book before. I thought it was something that was my dad's and was about to box it up for my step-sister but I opened it first and quickly realized that it was my mother's.

It was filled of pictures of me at various ages (as a young child 3 years - 7 years), one of my cousin as a child, and 1 that kind of took my breath away for a few moments... It was a photo of my birth father (the "donor", and I *aged 3 years*)

I vaguely remember seeing this photo many years ago, but of course I either blocked it out of my mind or forgot about it. Either was fine by me. The "donor" will be addressed in another post, not to worry.

He is not who I would have chosen as the other 50% of my DNA, but here we are. Literally.

The thing that stood out to me most was the use of the word/description of this man; that being "daddy".

This indicates to me that at the time of that photo, my mom still had some feelings for him, which knowing about how he treated both my mother and I, just breaks my heart and makes my stomach turn.

Bottom line: He was a very toxic individual. I'm glad he's no longer in my life and hasn't been for most of it. Thank You God 🙏

I am still on FMLA for another week or so, during that time it is not expected for me to address anything that is work related, but it seemed that my boss was out of the country and there was a task that I had been placed in charge of that no one else could get done, sooooo my boss's boss texted me asking for help.

Given who he is and how much I respect I have for him, I was more than happy to take a break in my packing at home to address the situation. 

This took the use of my work computer, so when I opened that laptop, I forgot about the post-it that I had placed on the inside with my mother as the subject matter written on it.

*Please Donate*

I wanted sooo badly to have had some of her tumors harvested & fixed, and have them sent back to our lab so that I could use them for Diagnostics and Treatment studies.

YES this IS possible via Tissue Donation, However I was reliably informed that it would take a ton of regulatory hoops to jump through and the biggest obstacle: our company is not focusing on Breast Cancers. 

That statement just took the wind out of my sails... I would have done anything to have had the cells of the bastard disease that took my mom from me and has taken others as well.

The CSO of our company was totally on board with it, even suggesting naming the cell line after my mom. Again, I would have given anything to have made that happen. F*CK! 😡

Even though that post-it was written fairly recently, I still regarded it as a "memory". 

Still not sure as to what kind though. 

Not sure if it needs to be defined neither. 

Give me a Ring some time (a Matrimonial Scavenger Hunt)

Admittedly I have not gotten much done here at the house since my mom had gone into the hospital, and even less since she passed. 

This is depression setting in I'm sure, and I need to work through it before it gets to be too much for me to deal with or handle on my own.

After my dad had passed, and getting my mother's terminal diagnosis, I knew immediately that I wanted to put both of their wedding rings together in the urn that I placed them in once mom was gone too.

Finding my mother's rings were easy. They were on her nightstand in the bags that the hospital had placed them in, that I brought home. My dad's ring, I had not seen since it had been on his hand; it was removed in 2018 when he had his stroke, and I haven't seen it since.

I wanted to wait for the right time to ask my mom where it was because I didn't want to start an argument. There were days that she thought & felt that she was coming home and continue on just as she always did. Then some days where she remembered her fate, and I didn't want to make her cry by asking about her husband who was no longer with us anymore.

One day she told me that my dad had visited her in the hospital and that she went home that night and saw him in bed, but he wouldn't wake up... When I am able to write about everything that happened without being reduced to a puddle of tears, I will blog about it. As I mentioned before, I will tell the story of "Us", it will be a series of multiple posts as it will be a really long read.

So, navigating how much my mother remembered of her reality and how much of it she accepted of it, changed on a daily basis. I had to behave accordingly. She really didn't want to die, so I didn't bring anything up that would remind her of what the immediate future held for her. That meant that I would have to just hope and pray that I would find my dad's wedding band on my own.

And Pray I did! 🙏

As I was rifling through tons of jewelry boxes, bags, drawers, etc... I had unearthed items that I did not know existed. A trip down a memory lane that was in existence way before I was ever born.

I had to call my aunt to ask her as to what I was looking at because these items had my mother's maiden name all over it, which meant what I found were items from her childhood that I had never seen before so I knew nothing about them.

Turns out that I found the baby bracelets that were placed on my aunts & uncles by the hospital when they were born. These bracelets look like something out of an Arts & Crafts class as they are made of clay beads and each bead has a letter on it which spelled out their last name (again, not doxing anyone here) which happened to be my mother's maiden name. 

In addition to that, I found a Mother's Ring that has a birthstone of ALL my mothers siblings on it; I assume this ring had belonged to my grandmother. I don't remember her wearing it though... 

Then I found what appeared to be metal toe tag coins with the same last name on them. This leads me to believe that those were the ones that belonged to my Uncle Hank who passed in 1972. My mother was very close to him and they were the best of friends according to her. His passing affected her deeply.

I don't think she ever healed from that event. 

I found a lovely silver bracelet with her and her siblings names & dates of birth on silhouette charms. All of these I will be keeping with me, especially now I know their history. I know the sentiment that they carried with my mom, so I will keep them safe. 

I was ready to just give up the fight for the night, and just kept going through boxes and bags seeing what I would keep, send to family & friends, donate, or throw away. 

I came across a bag that was the exact one that my dad had kept his medications in, and it was one for my mother. I have been pretty diligent about getting all the prescription medications out of the house, and these have all been well expired so there was no need to keep them.

As I was placing my mom's medications in the plastic bags to be taken to CVS for a Safe Disposal,

I looked down at the bottom of the bag and low & behold... there was my dad's wedding band!

I got so excited and shrieked with joy, I think I blew out the ear drum of the friend who was on the other end of the phone with me as I was going on this "archeological dig" for my dad's jewelry. 

I put on some nitrile gloves, opened the urn for the last time, and placed my dad's wedding band within the ashes along with my mom's rings that were already in there.

They are now finally "home". 

This makes me so very happy and relieved. It felt "incomplete" to me for their wedding bands to be separate from one another. This was not something that was asked of me by either parent, this was something I felt strongly in my heart to do. 

Then as things were calming down for the day, and I was just picking through stuff, I came across a book that I'm sure that my mom got for helping her deal with the loss of my father. 

I'm sure she would want me to read it as well.

Looks like another "gift" left behind from my mother to me, to help me deal with the loss of her and my dad. 

I can't say that my mom didn't "take care of me" even after she died. As a matter of fact, it was the complete opposite. I have everything tangible I could ever need. 

It's her physical presence, voice, and touch that I will have to learn to live without. 

That will be the hardest part. 

*Link to Book*

Book of Revelations (It's not what you think)

 

The Ex-Fiancée, the Wife, and the man they have in common: The Anti Christ

Holy Hell... last night was no joke!

It was a conversation of "Biblical proportions" one could say.

As most days since my mom's diagnosis and passing, it was just another day of trying to get through it without being sad or depressed on some level. What I have found is that at least for me, when its nighttime, when it's quiet & still, that is when memories come flooding in and it can be quite overwhelming. 

I had been trying to get in touch with those that my folks had befriended over the years to let them know that both had passed; in case they were left wondering what happened to them.

1 person of importance was my mother's ex-fiancée, Paul. 

They had kept in touch as friends after they broke off their relationship so many years ago (I was 6 when they got together, I don't remember the breakup so that timeline is a little fuzzy for me), so I felt compelled to reach out to him to deliver the sad news.

Paul, like my mother, had since moved on in his life and got married to a woman (MUCH younger than him) who was a non-English speaking immigrant with a very young son. I met her once about 19 years ago at Paul's retirement party, she seemed very nice but also very timid and probably scared as she didn't know the language or anyone around her.

That was the last time that I had seen or spoken to her. Until last night.

I found Paul's number and called around 8:30pm as usually people are still awake and more than likely done with dinner by then. When his answering machine picked up, I was kind of relieved as I just wanted to leave a message, get it over with, and continue to move on with my new life. But his wife picked up the phone in the middle of the message, and I kind of wanted to vomit right then and there... I felt weird talking to his wife about the death of his ex-fiancée. I don't know how I would have handled that information if I was in her shoes. 

She was just the sweetest and most gracious person to a complete stranger (even though she had heard about me for years). She knew of my mother from the stories that Paul would tell her, and I learned that not only did my mom and him talk on the phone a few times a year, but also, they would get Christmas cards as well. 

I'm sorry, but given their respective relationships outside of one another, I found that behavior kind of inappropriate. And I had every reason to feel that way, because as I suspected, that "friendship" was used as a tool against Paul's wife. This would be known about 2 hours into the 4.5-hour conversation I ended up having with her.

BOUNDARIES... Establish them and ENFORCE them!

For the next few hours, I let Paul's wife tell me the history that was unknown to me about their courtship and their marriage. It was something out of a Stephen King novel. 

I was completely floored... This was NOT the man I remember growing up with (in what little time I was exposed to him). 

I kept telling her how sorry I was that she went through what she did, the nasty and abusive things that were said to her, and wanting so badly to be able to crawl through the phone and give her the biggest hug I could possibly give. With each passing minute of this conversation, my heart was breaking more and more... This was NOT the man I remember growing up with. 

I did not know WHO this monster was that she was talking about, but it turns out that I DID. My mom, once again, hid the truth from me.

This time she will get a pass as I was 6 years old and obviously not emotionally or mentally mature enough to understand and accept the truth that was happening behind the scenes.

For YEARS I wanted so badly 3 things... a father, a sibling, and a horse.

The best my mom could do for me was adding to my ridiculously large collection of My Little Pony's.

The other 2 were a challenge. But I didn't see it that way at that time.

I don't remember exactly when Paul proposed to my mom, but they were engaged. I remember seeing a very ugly pair of Flower Girl dresses that my mom had for myself and the babysitter's granddaughter to wear at the wedding. I was not looking forward to that... I was a tomboy and HATED dresses 😖

And then one day I remember not living at Paul's house anymore. I don't remember actually moving into the house, and I don't remember moving out. I remember ending up in a house a couple of towns away, just mom, my dog, and I. 

I remember Paul coming over to the house a couple of times just to take me out to dinner. I would later find that the intentions were not good... the "revelation" broke my heart, but helped me understand my mother's actions, forgive her, and let go of the anger I have carried for so long regarding the demise of their relationship.

I was angry because I felt that she cheated me out of a father-figure once again, something I wanted SO BADLY. All my friends had a 2-parent household, or at the very least, 2 parents that appeared to be very involved in their children's lives. I did not. I was envious of practically everyone around me. I felt like an outcast, and even more like someone that no one wanted... not even my own birth father. And sometimes, my own mother. 

I carried that feeling, along with other negative ones, around for decades. Partly because my mom refused to tell me the truth or talk to me about that subject at all. I resented her for that. And I still do in a way, I guess.

I asked my mom why her and Paul didn't work out? Her response was actually pretty perfect now that I know the whole story. 

She told me that Paul liked to "fix" people. Once my mom was "fixed", the relationship no longer worked. So they parted ways.

When I mentioned that to Paul's wife, she giggled and agreed with my mom's assessment. I told her that I didn't understand what my mom meant by that (she has been known to "speak in riddles" to discourage any further questioning that could implicate her). She simply said that Paul needs to be the "Hero". 

The knight in shining armor that saves the damsel in distress. Once said damsel is no longer dependent on him, and can stand on her own two feet, she historically uses those feet to RUN FORREST, RUN TF AWAY FROM HIM

The more she talked, the more things made sense. My mother would not hesitate to verbally tear down a woman, but if it was someone of the opposite sex, for some reason, she didn't speak ill of them even when they had put her through hell. This I will NEVER understand. I don't care what you "identify as", you screw me over, I have 0 issues trashing your name to anyone.

After a very extensive conversation that lasted to almost 2am, the questions I had specifically about this relationship, and my own failed marriage, had been pretty much answered.

Paul was not at all the man he initially portrayed himself to be. He used me to get to my mother. He "did his homework" figuring out that she was indeed a single mother of a young daughter. She had a very limited income & resources which equates to: Very Easy to Control.

I remember my mom telling me that he would sometimes follow her home to make sure she got home safely. He would leave very generous gifts on our doorstep (mainly for me. This is where the manipulation comes in) on various holidays. An Easter Basket the size of me (I'm 6 years old at the time), boxes of chocolates for Valentines Day, escorted my mom and I to the town Halloween Carnival so I could Trick or Treat in a safe environment. Had Santa himself pay a visit to our apartment in a firetruck and gave me a ride around the block (no one else got to do that!), and Christmas I was spoiled as was my mom by this man. 

I'm guessing the prospect of not having to struggle each month financially was quite alluring to my mom, and I'm sure she loved him as well. But it was now clear to me why they never made it as a couple.

Behind closed doors, he was an absolute monster.

The more Paul's wife spoke, the more I started putting things together. It was now obvious that he had pulled the same toxic, abusive, narcissistic bullshit with my mother as he has been doing to his current wife of 28 years.

The only differences here are that my mother was a US Citizen, she could get a job very easily, and had family/friends that she could run to if she needed to. Paul's current wife did not.

All of her family and at the time, all of her friends were in her country of origin (not doxing her or her son on here.) Thankfully she has since then gone to school, learned English, got a job, and made some friends.

Then she had given me some information that made my blood boil... I was seeing RED!

She told me that Paul had shared with her that he never wanted to be a father; yet when my mom met him, he had just recently divorced and had a 10-year-old daughter within that marriage. That my mother had gotten pregnant while they were together, but that he FORCED HER to have an abortion! 

SWEET JESUS... That man is LUCKY I am a law-abiding citizen, or things would have gotten very ugly for him. How could anyone do that to a woman?!?!?!?! 

*Slight Backstory: my mom wanted more children; her dream was to be a housewife. And I know she would have loved to have had another child and I sooooo badly wanted a brother or sister so I could have someone to play with, I was a very lonely child. We moved all the damn time, so I was never anywhere long enough to make and keep friendships. Remember this was before "technology" so letters and telephone calls from landlines were my modes of communication. *

My mom did share with me that she did get pregnant with Paul's child but had said that her physician told her that if she tried to carry the baby to term, that it could kill her. So, she had an abortion.

She delivered that news in a way that was appropriate for my age, and something that I would accept and not ever ask her about it again. She knew if her life was threatened, which meant she would be taken from me, that I wouldn't like that. So that was the safest way for her to get me off the subject.

I can't blame her for that. I blame Paul. I blame him for A LOT now.

As Paul's wife continued talking about her "house of horror's marriage", it was eerily similar, if not the same as my failed one. Which just threw me for a loop because we obviously did not marry the same man, or did we?.... 

My mother told me when I was married and things were just devastating to me, that she didn't know how I did it, but I managed to marry a man just like my birth father (we call him "the donor".).

Now I know HOW I managed that... I was following in her EXACT footsteps. At that moment I got that "cold blood rush" feeling in my chest, hands, and feet... another "revelation".

In that moment I knew that Paul was exactly like my ex-husband. Exactly like my toxic & narcissistic birth father. Exactly like what I had heard about my grandfather (my mother's father). 

Abusive, Toxic, Incredibly Insecure, verbally venomous, manipulative in the worst way.

And as it turns out, he had done this in his previous 4 marriages! 

His "reign of terror" continues on in his 5th marriage; the one where he had to source the weakest woman he could find to control and "trap" into his life. Never to leave him while he verbally, emotionally, and financially abuses her on a consistent basis.

Disgusted doesn't even cover what I feel for this man. I don't know if there is a word in the English language that could do it justice. 

However, now I can forgive my mom for letting Paul go. I understand. And I appreciate her not staying and raising me in that dysfunctional household, just to give me a "dad". 

It only took me 44 years to get to this point, but if she would have just told me the truth, this would have helped me get over it and understand things sooner. I'm sure she had her reasons at the time, but I guess I could have followed up with her on that... Once she met Carl (the man I proudly call my Dad), nothing mattered anymore.

Carl was the only man that mattered. I was A-OK with that!    

Another Day of Firsts (A Not-So-Happy Birthday)

 

Today would have been my mothers 74th birthday and is the first one of many ahead that I will be celebrating without her.

Every year without fail, I would usually text message her or call and ask. "What do you want for your Birthday?" as well as Mother's Day, so that I could make sure that I would be able to secure whatever it was that she was wanting as a gift.

This year, and from now on, there will be no more of those conversations. Sadly.

What I would give to have to stress over making sure that her gift(s) would get here either before or on time for her special day. What I would give to have the enjoyment of wrapping gifts and picking out the perfect Birthday card just for her. It would always be a poodle themed one as we have had those dogs since I was 6 years old.

She got me my first dog (a poodle named "Heidi") when I was 6 on Valentine's Day. I will never forget that day, and even now it brings a smile to my face :) And we have had poodles ever since. A total of 5 in all. That is the reason for the poodle themed cards... Sorry, got "derailed" there for a minute.

At the very least, this year and for the rest of her "heavenly existence", she will be able to "celebrate" with her family and loved ones in Heaven (Yes, I believe in that) and not in pain as she was in her physical body here on earth. 

As much as I miss her terribly, I'm beginning to feel happy, as much as I can right now, that she is no longer suffering and is with those that love her on "the other side".

I will have to source a chocolate cake and celebrate on my own in her memory.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mom. 

You are so very missed and loved. 

I hope you are happy and well wherever you are.

I love you

*Edit*:

Last night I received an auto rosary that I had custom made in honor of both my parents that has a very small photo of the both of them attached to it.

*Stock Photo from Etsy Seller*

Link to Custom Auto Rosaries

Of course, with any rosary, you should have it blessed by a Priest (if you are Catholic) before use. Auto Rosaries are no exception IMO. 

It just so happened that my church does Blessings of personal articles on the Second Sunday of each month. Today, on my mother's birthday, is the second Sunday... 

So, I grabbed my rosaries (2 auto's and 1 personal) and ran down to the church to get them blessed.

I was able to meet the priest outside after Mass (I got there just as it was letting out) and he graciously blessed everything I had with me, including myself.

The best part of it all... his name was Father Carl.

My dad's name.

*YEP.... here come the tears... AGAIN*

I see what you did there, Mom & Dad. 

Thank you for that. It was a gift. One I will cherish forever.

It is my mother's birthday today, and she gave ME a gift.

Thank You Mommy... I love it. And I love you.

Saint Michael

Ashes to Ashes ( A Different Kind Of Homecoming)

 

Neptune Society

Yesterday I finally got to bring my mom home, for the last time. Unfortunately, it wasn't able to be done on her terms (while she was alive) but she is now HOME.

She had pre-planned her and my dad's "end of life services" if you will, and the only thing left for me to do was to show up, sign papers, and within a little over a week... I had my mom back. In an urn she had chosen for herself.

My parents wishes were to both be cremated, their ashes mixed together, and scattered at a designated place when the time was right.

Given at the moment, the place where they want to be is more than likely very muddy, I will wait until the spring when the ground is hard, and the flowers are blooming.

I was told to look for Blue & Yellow flowers... OK, though I wish I knew exactly what flowers those were. This is feeling like an "Afterlife Scavenger Hunt" of sorts. Hopefully they won't be too hard to find.

Surprisingly, I did not shed a tear while I was picking the ashes up. For once I was able to contain the "water works"... I'll take that win as there are very few days that I am not constantly crying.

I think being on the phone with my aunt helped. I have been keeping the only remaining surviving members of the family updated with my moms health, all the way to her death. Even if it was something that she wouldn't have wanted, they are still her family. I feel they deserve to know what happened to their sister.

ANYWAY, I will say the most stressful part of this whole ordeal (thus far), was figuring out how I was going to mix my parents ashes together as the The Neptune Society let me know that they cannot by law, "Co-Mingle ashes". 

Color me devastated and somewhat panicked because this is not something I have ever done and all sorts of "disaster scenarios" played out in my head ranging from the obvious: spilling my folks all over the place, having to vacuum them up and have them mixed in with junk that was aspirated off the floor (No... unacceptable), to losing them down the drain. Again, No.

I think it was the anxiety I was feeling that kept me from once again, be reduced to a pile of tears while having to deal with this, alone and by myself. Honestly it would have been nice to have had someone there to help me with this, but I got it done. 

I kept trying to figure out HOW and WHERE to get all of this done at, and all I could think was in my moms favorite place in the house: the Kitchen.

Now I can assure you, the kitchen at this point looked like a scene out of "Dexter" as I have to prepare my own food and eat there too. Slight Backstory: I am a germaphobe and have some OCD, so I usually have things, especially the kitchen, the bathroom, and my laundry, practically sterile. If I had my way, I would autoclave just about everything in my life. But that would cause more harm than good... got to give my immune system a "workout" but NOT with human cremains.

About 3 years ago I got my mom these huge metal mixing bowls for Mother's Day, along with a set of metal measuring cups... Well, guess what got used?.... Yep, THOSE.

My mom loved cooking and every kitchen gadget ever known to man. So this was my way of honoring her in one of her favorite places to be... with some of her favorite tools.

I may never look at those 2 items the same again. May not use them either.... (YES they were washed after, but still...)

After I mixed both mom & dad together and cleaned up the kitchen as if it was a "Crime Scene", I placed some candles in these custom memorial candle holders that I found off Etsy.

**Stock Photo from Etsy Seller*

*Link to Candle Holder on Etsy*

When I saw them, I had to have 1 for each of my parents. And my mother's candle holder arrived the day I brought her home. *Coincidence?*

I've got 1 out of 3 tasks done that my mother had asked of me before she died. I made sure she was mixed with my dad, now the wait to get to spring and get to 1 of 2 places to scatter them after the snow melts, the ground dries up, and flowers bloom. 

Until then, Welcome Home Mom... I hope you and dad are happy together again. And I hope I made you proud in some way. I love and I miss you both. 

*here come the tears... dammit*

A "Family" of a different kind

After a particularly difficult post I had made yesterday via Instagram, within a few hours there was a knock on my door; outside was a man with a beautiful flower arrangement just for me.

They were graciously from the company I work for, and I'm guessing who ordered the flowers, remembered that I always use the company colors (Blue & White) for everything "company themed."

This detail I really appreciated. I know that is a strange one, but even with all the frustrations I have experienced at work (who hasn't in their respective jobs?), in that moment, and in others previous, I realized how much they mean to me, and I to them.

Their "message" on the card was short, sweet, and to the point. Again, very much mirroring my personality. THEY GET ME. And I again, appreciate that so much.

What was the most meaningful, was that there were no white Lilies amongst those flowers. 

THANK GOD.

White Lilies, while they are beautiful and have a deep meaning in the Catholic faith, give me severe PTSD.

They were on the casket saddle of my aunt Charlotte's coffin at her funeral many years ago, and I will never forget the smell of those Lilies. It makes me very sad. 

So the absence of those, gave me a huge sense of relief. Weird, I know. It makes sense to me and that is all that matters here.

 

I would estimate about a week and a half ago, maybe 2, where my boss's boss (who ironically was my direct boss at a previous job) had texted me alerting me to needing to "drop something off to me" and wanted to know if I would be home at a certain time... He met me a few hours later, not knowing the day before that my mom had passed. I had not told anyone as I just couldn't hold it together in order to get those words to pass through my lips, much less in a text message.

The reality was still something I was trying to deny.

He handed me a card that had been signed by every single person on my team; heartfelt messages that left me in a puddle of tears all over again.

Who am I kidding?... I've been a non-stop source of lacrimation. I don't need anything tangible to render me into a sobbing mess, but this did it. 

I was absolutely overwhelmed with emotions ranging from surprised, to so very touched.  The reason for the "surprised" comes from the fact that I can be very militant at work and behave accordingly.

Sometimes, more often than not, this attitude or behavior isn't exactly well received, but it is all I know. And from that, I have a very high standard set for myself and others that work within my group.

It will be something I will be working on in the coming days, months, years... But getting back to the immediate subject: this card really got to me.

I needed to "hear" all those messages. And I needed to hear it from the people I am with the most.

I'm so very honored to have made such an impact on them (and I'm well aware that some or all of what was written could be total B.S. and they just wanted to be "nice") and I DO miss being around them even if most days I'm bitching about something they have done/not done lol... 

Though I wonder about them if they are truly missing my presence... I may have to recommend "professional help" for them too! haha

Either way, the feelings are mutual.

I also got a barrage of sympathetic well wishes from colleagues on our company WhatsApp channel, and once again, tears & smiles commenced.

Even though I am physically alone having to deal with the loss of my mother and the things left behind... it's nice to know that I'm not "technically alone". 

Family, Friends, and friends whom have turned into "family" are just a phone call/text message away.

And if you are lucky enough... you get to work with some of them.

#mycolleaguesarebetterthanyours 

Forbidden Knowlege (The Rotten Fruit of it)

 

Knowledge... An essential to everyone's life, but not to others. 

Apparently, there was some "forbidden" to me, until just recently. Moreso, today.

Usually, one's parents or family members are the people that would share (for the most part), their deepest secrets, situations that could/would be life changing, or even just something that they wouldn't want anyone else to know. USUALLY.

It has been exactly 9 days since my mothers passing, and I am still finding out all sorts of secrets she was keeping from me.

The first was when the secretary from the Chaplain's office reached out to me to set up the Last Rites for mom before she passed. I forgot the woman's name (we will call her "Susan"), had called me to see if the Priest had gotten in touch with me to schedule for him to come perform that for my mother.

I let her know that no one had contacted me, and she reassured me that she would have them call me within the next day or 2; knowing my mother did not have much time left.

At that point "Susan" shared with me a couple of pieces of information that I was unaware of that kind of made me upset, and sad at the same time.

She let me know that she previously spoke to my mother herself, and that my mom did express wanting Last Rites performed for her. OK, not unusual... we are Catholic, and my mom knows how important this was to me, and I'm sure it was to her as she was raised in a very strict Catholic household. 

The information that upset me was that, within this very conversation she had with my mom, my mother had expressed great concern for me. Concern for leaving me behind, Concern that I would not be able to survive without her. Or her help.

The reason this upset me was that for years now, and obviously currently (just before her passing), she still thought of me as a dependent child; unable to live on her own. Unable to take care of herself.

I remember a conversation that took place when I was in my 40's where she said something to the effect that she didn't know why either I couldn't do something or didn't have the energy to do it, and I reminded her that I am not in my teens or 20's anymore... I'm an old woman! lol

She said, and I will never forget this: "You will always be my little girl."

. *pause for a slight crying spell*

In the past, I will admit, I probably did not display to her what she would consider "proper adult behaviors" because she and I had very different lifestyles.

She got married at 18. I waited until I was 30.

She had a child at 22. I did not have any.

She had to grow up FAST... I did not. 

I had freedoms that she never had, by her own choosing, and within that, carried some jealousy and animosity for years that was taken out on me. 

There were times when YES, I DID run home to Mom and Dad for help, as almost everyone does at one point(s) in their lives or another. I guess my mom felt what I had done was excessive in her eyes, which forever labeled me as a "Dependent Child" unable to make it on her own without help from someone else.

Yep, That hurt.

This was further compounded by a conversation that took place less than an hour ago between my BFF from High School who is by all life experience accounts, my Sister. Also, happened to be the person who stepped up to the plate at the 11th hour to be my mom's Power of Attorney. *we will get into that later in another blog post*

Not going to Dox anyone here other than myself and my mom; just FYI.

I got a call from my sister informing me about the processes in which I will be having to deal with in the very soon future and what to expect. At one point we had a conversation, while mom was still alive, that there was something that she would tell me but only after mom had passed. It was something that mom had told her in confidence, so I got to find out what that was about today.

It was everything I suspected, and my nightmare all at once:

My mother KNEW she had Cancer. It had been previously diagnosed and she chose NOT to tell me, or anyone.

She did not disclose to my sister when she first found out, but that it had been a diagnosis she received "a while ago." 

She said that mom didn't want to tell me for fear that it would upset me. And I remembered in that moment, a weird conversation that my mom had with me months before she went into the hospital, and that was that she wanted to look into "The Death With Dignity Act". At that moment, I looked at her with a very concerned look on my face and asked her if there was something she wasn't telling me?...

I told her that it is not just something you can just go into your doctor's office requesting, there are major laws and specific Terminal Health Criteria that you 100% have to fit into or it is not an option.

That conversation was dropped by her almost immediately when she figured out I knew more than she thought I did. Never in a million years would I ever think my own mother would keep a terminal diagnosis, yet let alone, a highly preventable/treatable form of Cancer from me, but HERE WE ARE.

My sister then goes onto tell me that my mom was concerned about leaving me behind... Once again, she is telling everyone but me, that she is worried that I won't make it on my own, alone.

She made my sister promise to have certain things in place for me when my mom passes, and to make sure that I'm not going to be found hanging from the rafters somewhere because of my "inability to Adult." 

Gee thanks Mom... even after she has been gone, I am reminded that she had no faith in me. 

I don't know which is worse... the sting of knowing my mom didn't believe I can function beyond a 9-year-old child, or had 0 confidence in me as a full-fledged adult.  

I'm well aware that all of this, and many more things that are yet to come, will take time to "get over". 

I did what my mom asked and that was to seek the help of a therapist to deal with what she knew or had anticipated the road ahead that I would be taking alone. I would no longer have the "help" or presence of my mom that I have had for the last 50 years of my life.

I'm also well aware that that statement alone sounds pathetic, so I guess in some ways I will always be "her little girl."

She and I have never been able to deal with "loss" very well.

I have abandonment issues brought on by the absence and inconsistencies of my birth father, and my mom passing me off to family and friends who would take me in when either motherhood got to be too much of a burden, or whichever man was in her life felt I was "baggage".

Her issues I believe stemmed from growing up in an abusive (physical, verbal, emotional) and toxic household. As well as 2 siblings that she was very close to and attached to, ended their lives by their own hands, leaving my mom behind.

She never recovered from those suicides, and I don't think I would have either.

It will take time, patience, and more than likely years of therapy to deal & heal from all of this... Maybe then, I will finally make my mom proud of me.

But most of all, make me proud of me; completely.