It's been 5 years today since I last talked to my mom.
5 years.
1825 days.
I won't bother with the hours, its too many.
Tomorrow marks the 5 year anniversary of my mom passing away. And I promise, this will probably be the last one of these that I do. There is something about this milestone, if that is even the right word, that has a sense of weight to it. Like, I have made it this far, the rest should be easy, right? That maybe I don't need to continue to re-visit this every year. Not sure, but it feels that way today.
But 5 years ago today, on a Friday as well, I was headed down to my parents house for the weekend, as I had done for every weekend before for roughly the last 2, 4, 6 -who knows, months. I packed for just the weekend. We were all home. My brother was back on emergency leave from overseas. And we were living in this weird reality where words like palliative care, active-dying and hospice were the norm. And after having a few drinks with my sister -- odd, I know -- I sat in my parents living room, where my mother's bed had taken over, and I held her hand and I told her good-bye. That it was ok to let go and stop fighting. She didn't talk back - she hadn't really said anything for about a week at that point. But she was there. And the next morning when I came downstairs, she wasn't.
I know that I am not the first person to have that type of conversation with someone. Nor will I be the last. I also know that we are not the only family that has been ravaged by cancer. The truth is, we were ravaged by our loss. Its easy to direct all your anger and sadness at cancer. It's the gut-sucking, faith-rattling monster in the corner. But really, anyone who has lost someone feels anger, sadness, hurt, all of it, at some (many) point. I just get to point a finger at something in particular. And for all those who survive cancer (or any potentially fatal disease), and in the words of the gorgeous soul that lived down the street and that I used to babysit, tell cancer to "fuck off" - revel in. Take the victory lap. Have a huge party, indulge a little. You should. In every way possible.
Because what this post is about, although you probably can't tell up to this point, is life. And living it.
See in those ensuing 1825 days since that moment, I have continued to move forward with my life. So has my family. Easy - no, not always. Days like today still hurt. Or when you are with someone and they talk about what a great time they had with their mom just hanging out, and you just smile and nod, because well, that's all you can do. Or when you just need a level set that your kids biting other kids/beating the crap out of each other/still needing a pacifier at 3 is ok and you will get through it. But you keep going.
And I think that, no - I know, that my mom would be proud of the living that I have done since then. I got married, had a few kids, bought a house, we opened a business, and I have continued to work my tail off at my own career as well. My order might be a little off, but don't judge. Let's not fool ourselves though - its not like we would have just sat around polishing our halo's and talking about how great we are. My mom and I disagreed on a lot. And I know that we would have butted heads more than once in the mommy-ring. But at the end of the day, we would have been ok. Plus, I out-weighed her and would have won on that merit alone. I also believe that her vision of my home would have been more Longaberger and Teddy Bears than the design astethic that I have. She would have gotten over it. I think.
My challenge now is to keep moving forward. To make the next 1825 days (and beyond) as full of joy, laughter and meaning as I can. To impart on my kids how important your family is - whether they are there at that moment or not. To be the best, wife, mom, sister, friend, co-worker, pick one of the roughly 3 dozen labels I wear at any time, that I can be. That is what this journey is about. That is what my mom taught me. That is what she said to me in many conversations. That is what her legacy is all about. That is the beauty of that last coversation, I got to have it. Even if she didn't say a lot. She didn't need to.
She had already said plenty.
