Special Days To Remember

Crooked Bridge, Virginia

What can I say about death except that it is a sure thing; Like breathing and birth and the setting of the sun. No matter how many times we encounter death, souls are shaken and someone vibrant and beneficial is suddenly gone from our life. 

And then what are we supposed to do without them? 

Death has taken from me some of the most wonderful people. Some by old age or illness, some by accidents and some, sadly, regrettably, by their own hand. BUT most left peacefully, as if they knew it was time to go and God had called them home.

The hardest deaths I have had to settle in my soul are the ones I have been present for; where no medicine or prayer or heroic act would spare them. They were just gone, and I was left with a painful - hallow feeling in the pit of my stomach; and no words could express the deepness of the loss. 

There are no words for those kinds of feelings.

The death of my Mom and My Great Aunt Grace are two of the most significant ones; and the days they left will forever be branded in my mind, because they left on days that were significant in mine. 

My Aunt passed away on my 36 birthday and my Mom on my wedding anniversary. 

My mom Betzi

Two days I will never forget. Two days that come around to remind me of the two most influential women in my life. Two days I make sure I celebrate because these women are worth remembering.

My mom left all us way too soon, she was only 65. We were becoming friend, finally, after all the years of me being a daughter of distance and way too much attitude sometimes. She would have said I was acting "too big for my britches," and she was probably right. We were finally sharing secrets and calling each other during the week and just dropping by to say hello, just to see if either needed anything. And then suddenly she was gone. 

In one deep, desperate breath, she left us. I was holding her hand when her spirit slipped away to Heaven. 

It was such a bitter sweet good -  bye. I will never, EVER, stop missing her. I am sure as I am of the sun shining tomorrow that she is sometimes watching me from Heaven, standing next to Jesus, saying, "There's my Amy ... I am so proud of her."  I cannot wait to hug her when I get to Heaven. I cannot wait to be with her for the rest of forever. I think I will have a very hard time letting her go. (Oh boy, these tears I have at this moment are warm and  emotional, its hard to see what I am writing)! 

My Great Aunt Grace, who was such a wonderful teacher in my life, left us all on my 36 Birthday. My mother and I were planning to take her with us to lunch to celebrate but instead, as circumstances played out, my mom found my Aunt laying on her kitchen floor with a broken hip, unable to move, unable to get to her phone, unable to get off the floor, slowly slipping away. My mom called the ambulance, which my Aunt protested loudly and with great debate I was told, and got her to the hospital for treatment. The doctor's found her hip shattered, inoperable, and because of that it was decided to make her comfortable and to spend as much time with her as was possible.

My very young Great Aunt Grace.

I spent my whole 36 Birthday with her. We talked about New York City and 911 and my trip to Ground Zero. We talked about her favorite flowers and her friends that had come to see her and how she was going to clean up her house when we got her home again. We talked about my sister and brother and what their future's held and how she missed them, and slowly, she began to to get tired. It was he second day in ICU, and I think she was just ready to go be with Jesus. He had been the focus of her life, along with all of her other Church responsibilities, and I think she knew she wasn't going back home; I think she knew her next stop was Heaven.

My mom was there with me and together we held her hands. My mom's sister called about then, and as she talked to my mom my Aunt began to slip away. My mom hung up the phone and ran to her side and as we stood there, silently, her spirit left, leaving her with a smile on her face. My mom and I looked at her, and then at each other and smiled. We somehow knew she had made it to her final destination.

I know Jesus was waiting for her, along with so many others. I know I will see her again with my mom, and I know if they do ever talk about me, they are proud of me, because I am a product of them; they were amazing influences on me and my life and I find myself thinking about what would they do when surrounded with life's drama?

That is the result of great influence I would have to admit.

Just writing this has caused more tears to flow than I was prepared for; They are tears of longing for my Aunt I think, just like the tears for Mom. 

My Birthday and my (un)anniversary will always be days to remember these two amazing women that helped shape me, I miss them more than words could ever express. 

Will I ever get over them being gone?  No, probably not, and that is OK,  because I would never want to forget them. They are the source of a lifetime of memories. Though bitter-sweet, those special days will keep them alive for me until the day we are together again. 

Their memories are priceless and keep me headed in the right direction, and I wouldn't trade them for anything, except, of course, one more day with each of them.

A Mulligan Day ... the One I Would Do Over

The Garden Lady Buffalo Botanical Gardens
My mom would have loved her.

There is always that one day in your life you wish you could do over, the one filled with regret and  "If I had only known."  

For me that day was the day I lost my Mom; and the few days leading up to it run a close second. I wish I had listened to my heart and not others; listening to others kept me from spending precious time with her, time that I will never get back.

It was a warm, overcast windy day in May. I will never forget it, and it was a few days before Mother’s day. I had planned on visiting her during the week to help sort through some things that she was getting rid of.

I never got the chance. Work had been very busy for me and as a school bus driver my days were broken up into 3 or four hours chunks of time. Time there was never enough of. I kept putting it off for tomorrow morning, or Friday after work or Sunday after church. I just never found the time.

She had gone in the hospital a couple days earlier for a biopsy of her lung. There was suspicion of possible lung cancer, and because she had been on oxygen for the last year, the doctor wanted to confirm his suspicions. The procedure was supposed to be out-patient and she was supposed to be home the same day. The details were a bit sketchy.

I got the phone message that night after work from her husband that she was in the hospital and she wasn’t doing to good and I should get down to see her. When I called he said  "her lung had collapsed with the biopsy and she had to spend the night for observation, and a visit would lift her spirits." Her husband sounded uncertain about her prognosis, but that I should just stop down.

The next day was a Saturday, so I went before going to a birthday party.

Had I known it was one of the last days we could spend together I would have stayed with her, I would not have gone to that party.

We can always go to parties. We don’t always get to spend times with our mom.

When I got to her room I paused at the door and caught my breath, saying a simple prayer for strength. Never in my life had I seen my mom sick or at the mercy of doctors and nurses or the restraints of a hospital bed. It was surreal.

It wasn’t natural to see her helpless. My mom was many things, helpless was not one of them. I needed to be strong, not only for her but for myself. It was a jolting scene to see her sitting in that bed, to say the very least.

“Hi mom,” I said joyfully as I walked in. Despite the fact that my whole being wanted to shake and I could feel my eyes getting moist. “Are they treating you good?” I smiled as I said it.  She looked up and smiled at me, with a little bit of worry mixed in and said, “yea, they are doing OK.” She chucked a little and said “it will be better when I get home.”

I told her about the party I was going to for my cousin and she said to make sure I wished him a happy birthday, “There is no reason for you to hang around here, go to the party and I will be home tomorrow,” she smiled and gave me a hug. “Come visit me at home.”

“OK, are you sure? I can stay for a while longer, give Charlie a break,” and he broke in saying, “I don’t need a break. Go ahead; I will call if I need to.”

So I gave her another kiss on the cheek and hug, told her I loved her and to get some rest, and I would see her at home.

I never saw her at home, not ever again.

The next call I got was from her husband saying that she was in ICU and that there had been complications, and I should get there as soon as I could.

I was in a panic. How does one go from going home the next day to ICU? I was so distressed and so confused and so distraught with the horrible thoughts going through my head that I don’t remember how I got there. My husband took me I think.

It was a long walk to ICU.

The "beep," "beep," "beep" of the monitors in different rooms cut the silence of the hospital corridor as I slowly walked to see my mom. I kept saying to myself over and over again in my head, “she’s OK; she will recover and be home in no time. The doctor will find a way to get her back on her feet again,” as I tried to talk myself into believing these things.

My thoughts couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

It was a sobering truth, like someone threw ice water in my face. My tiny little brain could not wrap itself around the fact that my mom was in ICU and it was more likely than not that she wasn’t going to leave there the way she went in. 

And thoughts of living without her flooded my mind. I think my whole life with her flashed before my eyes. 

These thoughts where disturbing to me, and hard to get out of my head; but I shoved them to the back of my mind and stepped though the doorway of into ICU.

She smiled and had me come over to the bed and as she held my hand, she started telling me what had happened and how she “got a promotion to the end of the hall where they could keep a better eye on me,” she said. We made small talk and laughed and remembered fun things. My brother and some other family members stopped in too, making light of the whole scene, and then it was time to go. 

I fought to stay to the last minute but there were others who insisted I leave, so to avoid a scene, I took the high road and I left.

Had I know that was the last day I could talk to her I would have stayed overnight; in a chair or in the waiting room. I just know I would have sat vigil until she no longer needed me; I would have stayed no matter how long it would have taken.

I will never get that opportunity again.

In the next two days she deteriorated quickly. She was on high doses of pain medicine and other medications due to a heart attack she had from a "complication." On the fourth day she seemed to be getting much more distant, like she was always dreaming, and the visits were made up of holding hands and waiting. I returned to work the morning of that last day with a heavy heart because I didn’t want to leave her.

Shortly after I got to work they received the call from the hospital for me to go back. As I walked through the door of the office my friend said,  “Amy you need to go back to the hospital, your mom has very little time left,” and I turned around and left.

This was such a blur … I called my brother, I called my husband and my sister … and I think my girlfriend rushed me to the hospital.

I ran down the hall of the hospital as fast as I could and when I got into her room she was slowly going into cardiac arrest. She was slowly slipping away, and it was not peaceful. She was fighting it the whole way. 

I just stood, staring, holding her hand, her best friend Alex sitting next to her on her bed, and her husband Charlie sitting close by in a chair, her hand in his. It is one of those moments that is branded into you memory.

Her sister, my aunt, called and I had to go talk to her and tell her what was going on and that I had to go. “she’s leaving us, I have to go. I will call you later,” I told her. I heard her scream as I hung up the phone and ran over to grab her hand again.

She was breathing shallowly, finally not fighting, and after taking the oxygen off and letter the medication take over, within moments, and after one last labored breath, she was gone.

And the tears flowed and the sadness filled every corner of that ICU room. There was no way to hold it back now and we let the emotions take over for a while. 

We sat there for about an hour next to her and then it was time to go. Leaving her was one of the hardest things I have ever done.

As a Christian I had been wondering about my mom’s salvation, she was not one to talk of religion or politics or other "politically incorrect" subjects. As I left the room Alex, my mom’s best friend, pulled me close and told me "Amy, your mom is in Heaven, she accepted the Lord - I  prayed with her." That was music to my ears. There is no better news at someone’s death as knowing they have chosen life eternal. That is the hope that Christians have, that they will see their family again in Heaven. I am looking forward to that reunion.

My biggest regret is leaving her so many times. Not talking with her and staying late and worrying about so many things and NOT being with my mom. I cheated my self and my mom, and I have adjusted my life accordingly so that never happens with anyone else in my life.

What I do know is this; no one will care how late you worked or how much money you have or how big your house is, or isn't, when death is at your door. They will only regret time not spent with you, missed chances to have fun with you and memories not made. 

Not doing those things make us the biggest losses.

And lastly, Love and honor your mother, she is the only one you have. She has done the best she could and she loves you more than you know. Mom's are people too, they all deserve a chance, just like we do.  Make peace, forgive and let it go, but no matter what, let bygones be bygones because the best is yet to come. 

You will never be sorry that you took the initiative to love, forgive and spend time with your mom, and neither will your mother. It is never too late to honor her.

Ephesians 6:1-3
Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. Honor your father and mother(which is the first commandment with a promise), so that it may be well with you, and that and that you may live long on the earth.

Sea Ponies

There has never been a time in my life that I have been without a pet. As far back as I can remember I have had a cat, or a dog or a fish or a hamster, or a menagerie of all of them at once, and I would never want it to be different.

As a kid that loved ANY kind of pet, the oddest pets I ever had were Sea Ponies. They were tiny little Sea Horses that I ordered through the mail from the back of a Teen magazine. The ad was located next to the Sea Monkey’s and the Spider Monkeys (real monkeys) that were somehow once available through the United States Postal Service, no questions asked.

I was very excited as I filled out the order blank and put it in the envelope along with a check for $9.99 plus tax and proudly licked and shut the envelope, then I licked the stamp and enthusiastically placed it on the envelope, and without another thought ran to the mailbox, slid that envelope in the box, and proudly shut the door and put the flag up.  I was so happy; I skipped all the way back to the house.

The order blank said they would be delivered in 7 to ten days. I started the 7 day count down the next day – when I got home from school and the flag was down.

Seven days later my Sea Ponies arrived enclosed in an air tight bag full of salty sea water ready to slowly release into an oblong, sea blue plastic aquarium they sent along for them to live in. (That is what my mom told me anyway.)

They were a gift for my 8^th birthday present.

My birthday is in December and I live in Western New York. The weather in December is COLD.

The mail came at 10 a.m.

My mom never got the mail out of the mail box until after 1 p.m.

Needless to say, my experience with Sea Ponies was very traumatic and frankly almost never happened because they were almost frozen.

Thank goodness for salty water, it takes a long time for it to become slushy in the mail box. The cardboard box they were delivered in helped keep them from freezing too, but I credit the sea water. Had it been a different kind of tropical fish, the story would have ended at the mailbox.

When I got off the bus that day I was so excited and I remember running into the house expecting them to be there. It had been seven days, I knew, I JUST knew they would be there in seven day and not ten like the ad said.  I distinctly remember the ad saying “delivered alive in 7 to 10 days,” and I always seemed to pick the 7 days, no matter what it was.

I ran to the house and swung open the door and immediately yelled, “MOM…Did my Sea Ponies come?”  There was no answer. I knew she was home; she stayed home from work that day. The car was in the driveway.

 “MOM,” I yelled again, just in case she didn’t hear me the first time.

 “I’m in the kitchen. Something came for you today, come and look,” she said like she didn’t hear me yelling and ask her if they had come just a minute before. Her voice sounded weird. It was a happy-skeptical-sarcastic voice, like she wasn’t too sure how to answer me.  

I ripped off my boots and whipped my jacket and mittens into the corner of the entry-way and skipped into the kitchen where all the action was I guessed;  and tuning the corner, there on the desk, was a 12 inch high Sea Pony tank, with twenty or twenty- five tiny Sea Ponies … barley swimming around the tank in their salt water.

“Oh,  wow,  Mom, look at them. Look how cute they are,” I said as I looked at them, and then back up at my Mom with a big grin on my face, and then I returned my gaze to the tank. My nose was pressed up against the plastic tank to get a better look at them through the blue tinted plastic. They seemed to be trying to gain some momentum as they pushed to the top of the tank. It seemed weird to me. They were having a hard time swimming.

 “What’s the matter with them?” I asked her. “Are they sick or something?”

When I turned around to look at my Mom she had a little bit of grin on her face and she immediately turned in the other direction so I didn’t see her start giggling. I knew she was, and it made me mad.

“MOM! What is wrong with them?” I yelled.

Their swimming seemed labored.  Five or six of them would push and rock forward, laboring hard to get to the top of the take, their little curled tails pushing backward and then forward like they were on a swing. Then when they got to the top, as far as they could go,  they would just nose-dive straight back down to where they came from, down to the rocky bottom to huddle together with the rest of the group. None of them seemed to be very lively. Lethargic is a good description – and from my vantage point their momentum was not getting any better.

That was when my Mom told me what happened, and that she had left them out in the mailbox most of the day on that freezing cold snowy day. 

I vaguely remember screaming and yelling, “M-O-M … how could you forget to get the mail? YOU almost killed them. What if they all die? They are my birthday present.  M-O-M, how are you gonna save ‘em?” And I put my head down and cried. I had waited seven whole days for my Sea Ponies and now they were almost dead – in cold salty sea water, and I was in a state of panic no girl of 8 should have ever been in. 

It was pure torture.

I remember pushing my face up against the tank as I cried. I felt such a sense of loss, and they weren’t even dead. They weren’t even dying, really, they were just cold. But I couldn’t help it, they were my Sea Ponies, it just wasn’t right.

I cried for a while, my face stuck to the side of the tank, tears rolling down my face. My brother walked by and looked at me and said “what’s wrong with her?” to my Mom and kept on walking. I think he knew to steer clear.

 My Mom finally said, “OK, enough, they will be OK. Look at them, they are starting to act better, it looks like you face up against the plastic warmed them up a bit, what do you think?” she said.

I looked up, rubbed the tears off my face and looked, and sure enough, they were moving around much steadier, with purpose, as if seahorses even have a purpose. But they looked better to me and I credited the heat from my face for that.

“Yea, look Mom, look, they are moving faster. Do you think they will be OK?” I asked, in a whiny little voice that can only be made by an emotionally whiny girl. “Yes, Amy, I think they will be OK. I am sorry I forgot to check the mail. Next time I will make sure I check it right away.” My Mom said. “You and your Ponies are gonna be OK honey,” my Mom tried not to giggle and I tried to smile.

All was well in the world.

Thumbs up go to my Mom. In the end, she still made everything OK, just by the words that she said.

The Sea Ponies lived for about six months, which according to the information I got with them predicted. It was sad when one or two died, but in the end I was so excited to have these cool little pets for even that long. I couldn’t help but show them off when we had company.

When the last Sea Pony died, I cried again, and my Mom and I flushed him down the porcelain grave to join the rest of his family. 

I tried to get my Mom to get me more, but she said “once was enough,” stating we needed something that would survive in cold and warm temperatures. I even tried to get her to buy that Spider Monkey in the back of the magazine, but she shook her head in that “no way” shake Mom’s have, and that was the end of that conversation.

Pets are still a big part of my life, I think they are necessary. They keep me company and make up my family and honestly I could never be without pets.

My mom is gone now – and memories with her are so precious. I love bringing her back when I remember these bonding times with her. It just goes to show that these special times, which seems so insignificant, will one day, like today, serve as a pleasant reminder that my Mom and I had a special relationship, different than any other, and Sea Ponies seemed to solidify that.

If I could talk to my Mom now, I would bring up all the memories I could remember that we shared, and it would be fabulous. I think we would laugh more than we would cry, and we would remember things we thought for sure were gone forever.

You should remember these times with you mom too. If you still have your mom, go make some memories. If you don’t, remember the best of them – they are the glue that holds your unique bond together.

I will never forget those Sea Ponies and the memories they made for me and my Mom – they are now a treasure for me. Remembering these times is like little nuggets of Gold … Priceless.

What are some of your favorite memories with you Mom? Write about them. They will make you laugh and cry and help you remember what a great friend you had (have) in your Mom.

My Mom and Me ... another great memory.