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Category Archives: Mom

sparkle shoes

Most people have a body part that they don’t like, some more than others. We each see our own flaws magnified, and think everyone else is looking at us too, gawking and clucking at our misfortune.

I found myself in a shoe department looking at silver shoes and sandals too pretty to be on my feet. Others had such beautiful legs and delicately trim ankles. They were able to turn pirouettes in their high heeled cage shoes with spindly heels and fashionable cut outs.

Meanwhile, I had three pairs of flats in my hands. Such is life; I have crossed the barrier where I am capable of walking in such confections of leather and lack of support.

While admiring the other shoppers, I noted three people shopping with their mothers. Another woman had just taken off her beautiful nude colored heels and reached for a pair of Keds slip on sneakers. I smiled at her and told her how impressed I was with her choice of shoes and the need for comfort. She told me that her high heels were extremely comfortable but she was picking up the sneakers for her mother who would love them.

Creeping up on the anniversary of my mother’s passing, I began to feel the loneliness and sadness that I have no right to feel. Other people have lost their mothers much earlier in life, or never known them, so I had no right to these feelings. Also, my mother suffered and died from ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or Lou Gehrig’s disease). In the last six months of her life, she lost the use of her limbs and her freedom. Rationally, I did not want her to continue living suffering but miss having the love of my mother.

I chatted with another woman who was trying on beautiful glittery sparkling shoes for a wedding. They looked lovely on her and I complimented her on her beautiful legs and how pretty they the shoes looked on her feet. Next, in my own insecurity, I explained that I had horrible legs which was why I hid them under maxi skirts.

In the end, I left the store without a purchase. I walked back to my car and turned on the blissful air conditioning. Then, in the quiet of a moment’s pause, I realized that I had to have gratitude for the gifts which I do have.

My legs are not horrible — because they work. I know my mother would have been proud that I understood and learned the moral of the story.

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Thank you for stopping by. It means more than you know.
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Do you like cookies? If someone offers them to you — you say I like that!

It is so hard to take away the innocent joy of an open-hearted child, but this is the sad truth of teaching Life Lessons out of love.

If this made you smile, pass it on. We could all use one! It is a great way to start the work week.

Happy Monday!

compassion

For some reason, in the last two weeks, a couple of people have made comments to me that it is amazing how quickly time has gone by, as it is almost a year since Mom passed, and I should be feeling better. People don’t know what to say, or how to make conversation, or are just really obtuse. I don’t want to call them stupid, but it might be time to change the batteries in their empathy chips when we turn the clocks back tonight.

I don’t count the days since my Mother has passed. I count long months, tears, memories and the knowledge that I am no one’s favorite. It has been ten months since my Mother passed and nine months since my Grandmother passed on. The period of time watching each of them deteriorating has chipped at my heart of glass and left sharp craggy edges.

I still weep copiously at the sight of my mother’s photos and I wonder when she comes to visit, as a spirit from the Light, if she will linger long enough to leave a message in my dreams.

People want grief to be defined and confined to some statute of limitations. Here is the thing that you need to remember: Grief is Messy. It does not care about times or decorum. It hits when it is most inconvenient or when anything special happens in your life. It makes you weep at the hole in your life without a Significant Other who loves you and thinks you are funny, witty and special.

Loss is a plant that never dies; it has deep roots, with periods of growing and waning, fresh bursts, and blossoms in its season, but can never be fully harvested.

People tell me not to be angry at G-d as it was His decision and his judgment. I am not; my mother was lucky to move to a better life out of her imprisoned body. However, I still miss my Mom.

I am very aware of how much time has passed and the dates on the calendar that mark holidays and other major occasions in our lives. When babies are born, I want to call her and share the news and the photos. As my father prepares to walk down the aisle as a proud Grandfather in two weeks’ time, we are well aware of her absence.

This is not a time of crossing X’s on a calendar counting down to some date of freedom. My mother’s spirit was set free and for her it was a joyous reunion with family long since gone. But, for me, I am chained to the date with full knowledge of what it means. The calendar is a masquerade of days. It is not a sign of moving forward; rather it is a measure of the time I have been looking back over my shoulder to see what is left behind.

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Thank you for stopping by. It means more than you know.

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planets spinning in space

All those beautiful images that proliferate on the internet: the sun rising or setting, birds fluttering above a wire, babies learning to crawl, trees changing colors, tulips and crocuses popping through the snow crusted ground. They make you believe that you can do anything, achieve anything, try anything.

I am trying to go back to school. It is my belief that I am a lifelong learner and capable of more than others know. It is also my belief that I am certainly capable of more than I have been told by some. Encouragement does not always come from the sources that you think it should and I keep trying to persevere.

But what I am finding is that among those images, there is not one of an over middle-age woman screaming at her computer to stop the monotone voice describing financial formula calculations in Excel. None of them show someone reaching for the aspirin to drown the stress headache from studying internal rates of review, present value, and future value of money. None of them show the terror, fear and panic inside the brain of trying to compress knowledge into a place where it never existed.

As I heard the professor say, ever so calmly, that we are going to incorporate algebraic formulas to express the conceptual values of numbers, the blood vessels in my head began to twitch. As he continued to identify some formulas with Roman numerals in place of integers, one blood vessel actually began shrieking for its Mommy.

When I chose to improve myself, and put my tuition on my credit card, I had no idea that I would have to figure out the internal rate of return on an annuity of X number of years at Y percentage rate to calculate the Future Value of Money and compounding? No wonder anyone who wins the lottery takes the lump sum! The pressure of that kind of math and accounting makes my teeth grind.

I am dizzy just writing this. Did your eyes glaze? Did you skip over the words I wrote? C’mon, it is OK. I cannot be the only one who feels the bile and hysteria rise in my throat as I approach this subject.

There are pain relievers for migraines, body aches, inflammation and bloating.
Please tell me on what shelf the real meds are located for the other vagaries of life? If you want to sell pain reliever and create a pharmaceutical monopoly, then don’t just change the font or color of your labels. Create a true panacea for what really ails me!

—- Adolescent teenagers
—- Difficult colleagues
—- Paying bills
—- Graduate School as a mature learner

How about low dose pain relievers for:

—- what to make for dinner?
—- whose birthday did I forget?
—- arguing over the mess in the bathroom?

We have more medications and more questions with fewer answers and massive amounts of fatigue. When you calculate how to resolve that equation, please get back to me.

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Thanks for stopping by! It means more than you know.
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