MY MOM'S PASSING TWO YEARS AGO TODAY MAY 6th

Today is a very sad day for me as I am grieving the loss of my Mom on her two year anniversary from her passing.  So many things have gone through my mind today as I remember the good things that we had done together when I would visit her or when she came to stay at my home.  I am also thinking about what I have learned over these past two years and reflecting to see if I have become a better person since the loss of my Mom.

Sometimes I have sad thoughts about regrets from when I lost my patience with something she did or when I felt distant and upset at something she said.  It was all stupid stuff and silly to get upset over and it makes me think now about the people I love and how not to sweat the small stuff.  I'm also learning to pick my battles and let things go that are not that important.  When I find myself being impatient or getting uptight, I think of my Mom and how I don't want to let time go by being upset at someone.  Not that I would stay upset with my Mom long since I would get upset and then it would pass in my mind but sometimes I would get upset when Mom pushed the shopping cart into a rack a of clothes and they would all fall over onto the floor.   So, so silly to get upset over, but I must confess that I did sometimes.

I am learning that life is so short and that we are not guaranteed any moment in time except the moment we think about the next moment.  Time seems to fly by as we get older and I don't want to miss a day of it.  Although I feel a lot of pain and sorrow loosing my Mom and my Gram last August, I take it. I take it because I realize the greater the love, the greater the pain from my loss of them.  I don't try to push my feelings away because I know they will only come out some other way, some other time.  I feel the feelings and I think and reflect. I might weep a small while but then I remember that I am grateful for having gotten to be able to know the strongest woman I have ever met.  I am grateful for the time we had to share together and how we grew to be so close.  I have learned that I love and I love deeply because of my Mom and I am still learning not to be afraid to love.

Last night I was uploading photos on to my computer and I was having a hard time getting them into a file.  So, for a reason I do not know why, I hit a button that said "slideshow'.  A photo popped up and then out of nowhere and from my computer speakers the song by Andrea Bocelli, "TIME TO SAY GOODBYE" began to play on my computer.  I was rendered still and silent as I listen to a song that I listen to so often in my car because it reminds me of my Mom and I feel close to her when I hear it. For a moment, I asked myself, "how did this get on my computer"? I played it at her funeral ceremony along with some other songs that she liked but how, why did it show up from a feature on my computer that I have never used before?  How this song got onto my computer I will never know?  How I was compelled to push that button 'slideshow' I will never know?  It is certainly, not a song that would have come with my computer.  I am baffled and I wonder if this is my Mom's presence appearing to me in a way that is meaningful and compelling?

I have learned that just when I think I've got this thing called "life' figured out, it throws me a curve.  While, I miss my mom terribly and I feel selfish to say that I want her back here with me, I am slightly, just slightly realizing that I have to let her go and I have to go on. Sometimes, I want to cry out "Momma, I miss you so much, Please come back" and then I realize that that is the smaller part of me longing for my Mother.  It is 'time to say goodbye' again on the anniversary of your passing.  I do miss you but I will move on through this sometimes sorrow filled life and become a better person because I loved you.

ALL MY MOM'S IMPORTANT STUFF AND LETTING GO

MY MOM'S SWEATER THAT SHE LOVED TO WEAR ALTHOUGH SHE LOVED
THE COLOR BLUE MORE THAN PINK

Last night I was going through my huge pile of clothes in my bedroom.  There were some big piles that needed to be put away for sometime now.  I've been telling myself I was going to do it everyday however I never get to it.  I never knew why I just let them sit out in my bedroom when they were taking up so much space and making the bedroom look so cluttered.

Last night I thought it was time for me to tackle the messed up piles of clothes and put them in their designated place in my drawers and closet.  As I put them in their piles on my bed I realized I was becoming more and more uncomfortable and wasn't sure why.  I thought it was partially because I was having to organize my clothes in different piles and this is always a challenge. Organization and myself do not make for good friends.  Well, after I had almost all the clothes put on the bed I came to realize what was underneath the piles of clothes was making me uncomfortable.  I sat on the bed and just starred at the bins that were filled with clothes.  I became frozen for a moment and then the sadness started to creep in.  All the memories I had about these clothes were starting to fill my eyes with tears and my mind with sorrow.  These clothes weren't my clothes but my Mom's.  They were folded nicely and filled up the bins to the top.  About 8 months ago I had washed all her clothes and put them in plastic bins.  I thought unrealistically, that I was going to keep all of them!  I couldn't part with any of them except for some that I gave to my sister. But I know now that this is not possible.

What I was hiding underneath my pile of clothes was my Mom's clothes and I didn't want to face the enormous emotional task of giving them away so I buried them with my clothes on top.  The thought of parting with her clothes is so emotional for me.  Each piece is like a treasured memory and a way of feeling closer to her and I didn't want to loose that so I put them in the bins and just let them sit there untouched.  I started taking some photos of them so I'd remember them always, however I realize now that the memories are not in the things but in my mind.  So, soon I will be parting with some of them.  I have to do it a little at a time to soften the impact it will have on me.  I know some people have trouble with this when they loose a loved one, so I understand that this is the normal grieving process but nevertheless, it is painful to do.  It feels as if I am parting with her piece by piece as each piece will leave my possession.  Realistically, I know that I can not keep all her clothes forever, so I am going to donate what I can, when I can.  I will keep a few things that really remind me of my Mom's spirit and charm.  I wanted to create some kind of quilt or blanket with some of her clothes, but I don't think I will be able to, so they will have to go at some point.  I am saddened by this whole process.

MOM'S SCRUB TOP.  SHE LOOKED LIKE A NURSE WHEN SHE WORE THIS.
SHE LOVED THIS TOP. TOO!

It's interesting how we humans want to save things for their sentimental value.  It's as if we are trying to stop time, freeze time so nothing changes.  Holding on to things is a way of feeling closer to someone and if they have passed away, that grip is even harder.  I have always been a collector of things.  I am somewhat of a pack rat and I save things that make me think of and feel the person who gave them to me.  The person and the things actually merge together and become one.  This is a biological trait of nesting and collecting that is deep in our DNA and then effected by our experiences and our environment.  When I was as little as two years old, I was a collector.  I carried a bag with handles and I would take things from the ground and put them in the bag.  I had chewing gum wrappers, chewed gum, dirt, leaves, paper, and things I can't even remember.  I carried a bag with handles, for most of my childhood.  During my teenage years, I was still collecting things in bags and filling them with stuff and storing them in my closet.  Eventually, I graduated to bins and containers to house my collection of art supplies, fabric and anything to make things out of.  Still to this day however, I love bags with handles and now that I can get them anywhere, I am thrilled!  I now call it on my other art blogs, 'My Bag of Tricks'.

I mention this story to illustrate how ingrained collecting, saving and memories are linked together.  This is why I have been saving my Mom's stuff.  It is a combination of grief, collecting, saving, connection, closeness, devotion, feeling her presence, honoring her and fear of letting her go.  I will begin to let go, however little I can.  I hope the memories of my Mom don't go with her belongings and that they stay deep in my heart and soul forever.  I will never get rid of those.  So follow along with me as I begin this journey to let each one of my Mom's things go to another place.  I will write about it as I experience it and for now that is the best I can do.

MY GRAM AND MY MOM

GRAM AND GRANDPA WHEN SHE WAS YOUNG.  WASN'T HE HANDSOME?  
HE WORE A SUIT EVERYDAY EVEN IF HE WAS NOT WORKING!

MY SWEET MOM ON HER WEDDING DAY AND BEFORE SHE BECAME ILL.
WASN"T SHE JUST LOVELY?

MY GRAM AND ME AT MY WEDDING.

It has been about one year since I have posted on my Mom's blog.  I've been in the process of grieving this loss and I have had a lot of trouble getting my thoughts clear and to be meaningful.  I have been struggling with a lot of sadness and sorrow and writing creatively has been a challenge.  Although I have been having trouble, I am ready to begin again and to try to make my way through the fog and haze that has been clouding my thoughts.

It has been a long year.  Sadly, on August 27th 2012  5 months ago,  my Gram, the woman who helped raise myself and my three siblings since I was seven, passed away at the age of 98.  I am heart broken and again I have been grieving the loss of my Gram so deeply.  I have been having so much of a struggle to put my thoughts into meaningful sentences, again.  This past year and a half has been filled with much sorrow and I have wondered when it will end.  I want to share some of my Gram's story since she was an amazing woman with great strength and enormous responsibility.  I have lost two woman who have given me life.  Two women who were the most important life defining people in my life since I was a young child.  One who became ill to no fault of her own, my Mom and one who stepped in to save my siblings and me from the ultimate fate, which was my Gram.  This story is about my Gram, me and my siblings.

MY MOM AT CHRISTMAS AT MY HOUSE OPENING GIFTS. SHE LOVED
TO WEAR HER COAT INSIDE THE HOUSE

GRAM WHEN SHE WAS ABOUT 15 YEARS OLD.  WASN'T SHE CUTE?

Gram was the rock in our family.  After my Mom became ill Gram stepped in to care for my younger brother when he was 8 months old after my Mom went into the hospital.  When she was discharged from the hospital, my brother went back to live with her until my Mom became sick again.  My Dad asked my Gram if she would take care of him again and she did.  My brother was 2 years old and severely malnourished. Since my Mom was so sick and unable to care for him properly he became ill.  Gram rushed him to the doctors and started feeding him again to fatten him up.   My Grandfather had just died and Gram had to raise him on her own along with her youngest son who was 7 years old. 

 When I was 7 my Dad virtually kidnapped us from our caretakers since we were not being taken care of properly by aunts and uncles and a foster woman ( don't know much about this). My Dad took us out to get some dessert ( so he said) and then drove us to my Gram's house to live with her, just like that.  My youngest brother was 5, I was 7, my sister was 8 1/2 and my oldest brother was 10 years old.  We all pilled into the one bed to sleep that night.  In the morning, I learned that I had a little brother Ken who was 5 years old! So Gram was now taking care of 5 children.  She was 51 years old.   If you want to read more about Gram and me click here and here and here.

My Gram had a hard time getting by but she did it everyday.  She had little money on her own.  She would cook meals for all of us 5 kids.   Sometimes in one pot.  We now call it 'The one pot wonder'.  She did all of our laundry everyday. At the same time she worked housecleaning and ironing for a woman in the neighborhood.  Gram did everything.  She painted the entire inside of the house on a ladder.  She was something.  She kept a very clean house and kept us clean.  She took us to football and cheerleading practice and picked us up in the cold weather when she had no heat in her car.  As my Gram would say, "she's the Pip!"  Well, Gram was the Pip even though I never knew exactly what a Pip was!

GRAM AND ME IN HER KITCHEN WHERE SHE LOVED TO BE AND TO COOK HER SCRUMPTIOUS MEALS

GRAM AND ME IN HER KITCHEN WITH HER BIRD IN THE BACKGROUND

My Dad worked excessively to help my Gram and to pay for my Mom's hospital bills which were enormous.  At the same time he was trying to have a house built for us.  He wanted us to be in a family and he could not wait to get into the house.  He traveled a lot for work and we would not see him often.  Even so, I was very, very close to my Dad.  He was everything to me.  He was my world.  My Dad would help me with my school projects and he loved art so much.  He was a toy designer for Kohinoor Bros. toys and anything that was creative, he loved.   He was determined to send me to art school when I was old enough.  Eventually, I did manage to go to college for Graphic Design.  He was so observant to see that I was talented at a young age and interested in art, just the way he was.   

MY AWESOME DAD.  WASN"T HE HANDSOME TOO?

       MY DAD, ME (in front), MY SISTER AND BROTHERS AND MY
        UNCLE RON.  WE WERE IN NIAGRA FALLS, OUR FIRST
        VACATION .  MY DAD WAS SO EXCITED BECAUSE
           HE THOUGHT WE WERE LIVING LIKE A NORMAL
         FAMILY.  IT'S ALL HE EVER WANTED FOR US.

When I was 13 my Dad bought the new home for us to live in.  He remarried six months after we lived in the new home and I was not so happy about it.  Six months after that, approx. 1 year later , my Dad tragically passed away at the age of 40.  He had a massive heart attack and passed away after going to a party that evening with my stepmom. I was devastated. You can imagine the chaos that was created and the enormous task of figuring out AGAIN who was going to take care of us.  Relatives wanted to split us up to different families, but Gram would not have it.  Not for a minute would she let us be separated again, so she said she wanted to take care of us again, all of us.  So for one year later after the sorrow filled loss of my Dad, we were back at Gram's again.

GRAM AND GRAND PA ( NOT SURE HOW OLD SHE WAS IN THIS PHOTO)

GRAM AND ME BEING SILLY WITH A THELMA AND LOUISE PHOTO

I'm telling this story (and there's so much more to tell) because I want to express the magnitude of what my Gram stepped into to do when no one else would.  If it would not of been for her, my siblings and I  would not be who we are today.  Possibly, we would have been separated and we would have barely seen each other, or even worse.  We could of wound up on drugs or drinking and maybe even worse than that.  I can only imagine what we would have been like today if it were not for Gram.

GRAM LET HER GREAT GREAT GRAND DAUGHTER FIXING UP HER HAIR
So, today, I am missing my Gram a lot.  I think of all she sacrificed of her life to take care of us.  I think of her funny expressions and quips and it is bitter sweet.  The only solace I have now is that I know she is with her husband and my Dad and Mom, as well as my uncle and my Gram's sisters and brothers and she is happy and joyful. When my brother asked her why she never had another husband, she replied," Of course not.  What do I say to my husband when I see him in heaven?'

One of the last things she spoke to me before she passed away was when she said "I'm going to miss all of you guys."  Well, Gram I miss you terribly.  I miss your touch and holding hands as we watched the cooks on the Food Network.  I miss your stories that you told so many times but I loved listening to them again and again.  I miss telling you I love you and you responding as you always did, "I love youuu... toooo?

GRAM IN HER KITCHEN WITH MY SISTER IN BACK, BROTHER AND MYSELF
I am in a grieving process presently and I have to say that it is tough.  Sorrow and sadness creep in when I least expect it to.  Memories are joyful and at the same time painful.  Not having the rock and matriarch in our family has been throwing me off base.  I have lost my footing and ground.  Writing has been so difficult because I can not think thoughtfully about what I' would like to write. I am missing my Gram and also missing my Mom and my Dad as well.  I feel as if I have lost my voice.  I realize totally that I am in mourning.  However, long it takes is how long it takes.  I can not rush it or try to force it to move in any specific direction.. It will be what it is.  For now, I will work hard to reclaim my writing and blogging about my Mom and my Gram.  I hope you stay tuned.

   Miss you and love you Mom and Gram

GRAM AND ME ABOUT 2 YEARS AGO

MOM AND DAD THE POINTSETTIAS AND THE CEMETERY

This Christmas holiday was a challenging one and I was not sure how it was going to unfold?  I'd like to share some feelings and a story about My Mom, the Pointsettias and the cemetery.  I've been working on this post since Christmas Day and I'm finally done, so here goes.

Since my Mom has passed and it was Christmas, I wanted to put something on my Mom and Dad's grave at the cemetery.  I thought after talking it over with Paul, that we would put pretty Pointsettias.  So Friday afternoon, I picked up two flower plants.  One was white for my Dad and one was pink for my Mom.  They were pretty.  When I returned home, I placed them on the coffee table and went about my business.  My in-laws arrived about 15 minuted later and I didn't think of them again until Paul came home from work.

Most holidays I have spent Christmas Eve with my Mom and my husband Paul. and Christmas Day with the rest of my family. We used to go up to Lake Placid to see my in-laws, however, Paul has not been able to get enough days off in a row to take the long trip there.  Well anyhow, this Christmas was however, a sure change from the ordinary ones we have had, not only because my Mom had passed away but my in-laws spent the holiday at Paul's anut and uncle's home and so did Paul and I.   My Mom and Dad in-laws came down on Friday, stayed the night and we all traveled to South Jersey to Paul's Aunt and Uncles home.

Well, before we left our house we packed all of our clothes and gifts in the cars. We had a lot of gifts that were little and they captured our attention getting them in the car.  I took a look around two times to make sure we did not forget anything and everything was clear.  We jumped in the car and off we went to South Jersey.

We arrived in South Jersey and  had a great time and enjoyed the hospitality of Paul's aunt and uncle.  There home was so warm and inviting.  Two of Paul's brothers and they're families were there as well.
There were a lot of Paul's relatives there and the house was full of joy and cheer.  Somewhere during the day, I realized, "Oh, my.  I forgot the Pointsettias!"  How could I have forgotten them?  Well, all was not lost.  There was a Walmart close by and I thought that we would stop by there and pick up two more plants.  No problem.  So, after we left the gathering, we stopped at Walmart. Thank goodness for Walmart!   I ran in and picked out two of the prettiest Pointsettia plants in red.  After, we drove to the hotel we were staying at and brought our bags to the lobby.  The parking was a far walk from the entrance so Paul suggested we leave the Poinsettias in the car!  He said,"They are winter plants.  They will be fine"  I didn't know either way, so we left them in the back seat.  It was awfully cold Christmas Eve.

On Christmas Day, we hopped back in the car and we drove back to Paul's aunt and uncle's for dinner and dessert and then we were going to make our way North to my family.  We were going to stop at the cemetery before we got to Heather (cousin)and Ron's home.  Well, we went in for dinner and left the Pointsettias in the car, again.  It is not like me to forget something as important as this.  When we came back out to take a trip about 1 mile to Paul's other uncle's home to visit another aunt and uncle, we had Paul's brother and girlfriend hold the flowers on their laps.  Unfortunately, they started looking a little wilted and I thought the cold weather was causing them to die.  When we arrived back at Paul's aunt and uncle's, we placed the Poinsettias on the seat of the car thinking that they would be okay since it was not very cold.  After we had dinner and dessert, we got back in the car and headed for Heather's.  It took us about 1 hour to drive to Toms River and to get to the cemetery.

Well, needless to say, it was dark, very dark. We pulled up to the cemetery and the gates were open so we drove in.  We were the only ones in the entire cemetery.  I began looking for my Dad's grave and I could not find it in the dark.  So, I walked around looking for a familiar landmark.  It was too dark for me to see.  I had no idea where I was walking.  I must mention, that in any other time, I am petrified of cemeteries and the whole concept of graves, death and dying!  But here we were, in the pitch black looking for a grave stone.  I thought to myself, "we have got to be nuts!" But,  I knew that I had to find the grave. As I was walking in between the stones,  I came upon a stone that looked like my Dad's, so I put the Pointsettias down in front of the stone, crossed my heart and I began to walk away until something didn't feel quite right.  I looked again, closely and I realized that I had the wrong grave.  I picked up the wilted Poinsettias and walked further down and until I began to recognize the stones.  Meanwhile, Paul went to get the car, to help shine some light on the stones.  Do you believe it?  Here I was being afraid of the cemetery in the day time and I was walking a long to find my Mom and Dad's grave in the pitch dark?  I know this sounds odd but I was determined to find my Mom and Dad's grave and place the wilted Pointsettias on the grass for them.  And this was not the first time I had been there in the dark.  (it is a story for another time).

Well, anyhow, Paul drove up to me and turned the car sideways and he put the high beam lights on the stones.  Here we were in the dark cemetery, with bright lights shining on the stones looking for my Mom and Dad's grave. It was as weird as it sounds.  Eventually, I found my Dad's stone and I felt relieved that I could place the flowers for Mom and Dad on their grave.  I crossed my heart again and I was so happy to have found the stone of my Dad and Mom even though the Pointsettias were so wilted and lacked any life to them.  I thought to myself, "Merry Christmas Mom and Dad" and I apologized for the sorry looking flowers.  I also began to realize that even if the flowers did not wilt in the car, they would have soon after we placed them on the grass.  I guess they are not a "winter plant!"

 You might ask, " what is the lesson that I learned from this story?"  It is this.  I should never go to the cemetery in the dark, ever again, especially on Christmas Day!  At the end of the day, I don't know if this is a funny story or a sad one?  I'll let you be the judge.                                                                                    

MOM WAS AN ARTIST AT HEART

Yesterday I posted a story about my Mom and how she loved the artist Norman Rockwell.  I mentioned and posted that my Mom did some drawings of Santa that looked like Norman Rockwell drawings of Santa.  I now ponder the idea that my Mom’s love and attraction to Norman Rockwell was because she was an artist at heart.

When my Mom was in high school, I have been told that she was able to write extremely well and that she was at the top of her high school class.  I did not know that my Mom was able to draw, as well.  I always thought that I had been given my talent genes from my Dad who was a fabulous and brilliant toy designer, however, I now have to rethink the notion that I may have inherited my gift from my Mom or maybe both.  Wouldn’t that be something?  All these years I never knew how much my Mom was able to create.  She went to a day program called The Guild after she left the hospital and there she would make all the decorations for every season and holiday. I have posted some pictures of them.  I particularly love the wreath with the holly berries and leaves.  I think it shows my Mom’s ingenuity and cleverness on how she put the wreath together.  I show a back photo to illustrate the way she attached the leaves and berries.  Being an artist myself. I can tell that this is a creative construction and a solution to the problem.  My Mom figured out how to attack the problem of how to put the wreath together in a certain way.  It is simple yet effective. 

I’d love to know where my creative talent came from because I would be just smitten with the idea that I got it from my Mom.  It is something I cherish about myself so profoundly and to know that my Mom and I shared the same artistic genes would be awesome.  That’s not to say that I don’t love the possibility that it may be because of my Dad’s genes because I adore this idea as well, however, at this point either way I know it is a gift that I have been given.  It has helped me through many a hard time and it has been the anchor in my life.  I could not survive without creating or making artistic things. In it’s extreme I think I would probably wilt over and die if I could no longer create.  What’s interesting about this point is how it may relate to my Mom since she had stopped making the decorations at The Guild say some 6 or 8 years ago and after her friend had passed away. She seemed to have lost her interest in making things. It’s not certain how long my Mom had Liver Cancer and I now see a correlation between her getting sick and not doing creative things anymore.  What’s not clear is if she stopped creating things from being ill with Liver Cancer or if it was because of a depression that she suffered after she lost her friend.  Possibly, it could be both or maybe neither.  As I have expressed my own compelling need to create to survive that is just like breathing, I have to wonder if this was also true for my Mom?  Believe me, I now go to all these places in my mind with questions since my Mom passed away.  Could her loss of desire to create have been a marker for how she was feeling psychologically and physically and even more signaled the beginning of her Liver Cancer?  I do not know the answer to this question and I have to wonder if all this makes any sense?  Basically, I’m trying to make sense out of nonsense!  In the end, I am left with the sadness of knowing that my Mom lost her desire at a certain point in her life which never came back. I am also left with the thoughts and sorrow of how my Mom could never be all she could have been had she not become mentally ill?  I wonder what she might have done with her life and her brilliance? I can only ponder what might have been.  So, at the same time, I try to find the joy of knowing that when my Mom was feeling well, she liked to make things just as I do and inside of her mind and soul was her spirit, which continues to live on through me.  I hope I do right by her.


Thank you so much for reading this post and sharing in my Mom's truth.


As my Mom could have been,
Loren  

MOM'S NORMAN ROCKWELL CHRISTMAS

NORMAN ROCKWELL
Tonight I am thinking of my Mom and how much she loved Norman Rockwell as an artist. Liking Norman Rockwell was important because my Mom did not often express interest in things like art or culture. I think I began thinking about this since Christmas is so near.  I live by the King of Prussia Mall in Pennsylvania and right now, this holiday season they are having an exhibit of Norman Rockwell's art at the mall.  How awesome is that?  It is as if my Mom is still stirring around and letting me know in little ways that she is telling me that she is still with me. Seeing that there is this exhibition is reminding me of a story I would like to share with you about my Mom and a Norman Rockwell book.

NORMAN ROCKWELL EXHIBIT AT KING OF PRUSSIA MALL

Last year when my Mom was at my house for the holidays, I had decided I wanted to get her a book of Norman Rockwell's art.  I didn't want to get a book that was too large because Mom did not have the ability to focus too long on reading or looking at the pictures.  It was possibly because of her illness.  Well, anyway I went into the book store Borders (I loved Borders) and I saw that there was no books that fit the features I was looking for, so I decided that I would not get a book after all.  Nevertheless, all day this idea of getting this book was in my mind and I could not get it out.  I wondered if it was because my Mom loved his work or just a plain ol' obsession?  I felt compelled to get this book for her.  This would be meaningful because my Mom could draw pictures of Santa Claus that looked so much like an old Norman Rockwell illustrations.  The thing that makes this so significant is that she would draw the pictures right out of her head without looking at any references. She just used her memory.  It's just awesome...  So, I was determined again that I was going to get her a book if it took all day.  I didn't tell my Mom what was on my mind because I wanted it to be a surprise.

MY MOMS DRAWING OF SANTA

Mom and I were going to go to Walmart to do some shopping and on the way I said to my Mom that I wanted to stop in this thrift shop to see what they had.  We had been there before and both loved it, so we decided to stop and take a peek inside.  We walked in and moved around the store in different directions.  I was walking toward the wall to see what they had in the way of books, specifically Norman Rockwell's book.   I felt drawn to this specific wall. As I approached the wall, I grazed over the books.  From the corner of my eye what did I see?   I looked down on to the shelf and staring at me, bright and bold as can be  and perched up on a easel was this book, CHRISTMAS WITH NORMAN ROCKWELL!   It had a big illustration image of Santa on the cover just like my Mom's drawings.  I thought I was imagining it.  Not only was it a Norman Rockwell book, but it was a Christmas edition!  What are the chances of this happening?  It was almost in mint condition with the dust jacket still on it.   It was a thin book with only 80 pages too!  I knew at that moment that this was suppose to happen exactly as it had.  I purchased the book and hid it in my bag.

On Christmas Eve I gave the Norman Rockwell book to my Mom.  When she saw it she seemed mildly excited and interested.  It now in retrospect was a very poignant moment because she was very sick with Cancer and we did not know it.  So, she looked at the book, however she did not show the enthusiasm that she normally would have had if she was not ill.  This, however, does not take away from this intense story of the book and how I stumbled on it.  It was meant to be and there was some message to be told.  Now when ever I see anything Norman Rockwell, I think so deeply about my Mom.  I see her spirit in his illustrations.   I believe that the exhibit that they are having at the mall is my Mom's way of letting me know she is still with me in spirit and that she is giving me ways to see her nature in ways that she could not do when she was living.  I also believe that the book was right where I found it to help me know more about my Mom as a woman and maybe as an artist?   So, tonight my heart is sad as I think about missing my Mom and the story of how I found the Norman Rockwell book for her.   I am approaching the holidays with a heavy heart and trying to think of all the positive things about my Mom and remembering her when she was happy.  Tonight, I will think about my Mom and know that she is right in step with me, as I live on.

I love you, Mom

Loren

ABOUT THANKSGIVING AND HAVING CHOICES IN LIFE

It's very late and the night before Thanksgiving and I've been thinking a lot about my Mom and how much  I miss having her here at my house.  I was also thinking about yesterday evening and how I had a Bologna sandwich.  What's odd is I hate Bologna and I never eat it however, I had a sandwich with Mayo last night.  I bought the Bologna to use for a photograph I wanted to take for a post about how my Mom loved and ate Bologna sandwiches.


My Mom loved Bologna sandwiches and she would go to the corner store and get one for dinner instead of eating the meal at the group home where she lived.  Most of the time my Mom would get sandwiches to eat there since the home would often have boiled chicken and my Mom hated boiled chicken.  It makes me sad to think of how my Mom had to eat the same thing so often and really had no choice but to go to the corner store.  What is of greater sadness and is much more significant and meaningful is about how she had so little choices and options in her life.  It's about how even though she was no longer in the hospital, she still had to live like she was.  When I think of my Mom and having no choices I am reminded of how I have them in my life and how I would feel if I did not.  My Mom had no control over her circumstances.  Research has been done on stress and it found that being in situations were you have no control is what causes the most stress.  This is how my Mom lived from day to day.  So, even though I am sad and lonely for my Mom's companionship, I am happy that she no longer has to tolerate eating boiled chicken.  I am sad that she will miss eating Thanksgiving Turkey and all the other fixings.  I know she would have loved to go to Old Country Buffet and eat as much as she liked and what she liked.   At OCB she had choices and control.  She ate almost everything she could and now I realize it's because she never knew when she was going to be able to eat like that again.  So, I brace myself for tomorrow and all the hoopla around the holidays.  When I eat I will be thankful for all the joy in my life and the fact that I have choices and options in my life. I will be thankful for the simple fact that I have control over most things in my life.  I will think of my Mom and the time I shared with her and I will be thankful.


Cheers,
Loren