In the last sixty days, several people have said, "you should go back to blogging."
They are correct.
I did not consciously decide to stop blogging. I just could not.
I sat on my couch, for months, with my head buried in a half gallon of Blue Belle Ice cream and I grieved. I grieved a lot. The more I grieved, the more ice cream I ate.
On July 6, 2021, my mom celebrated her 80th birthday.
Six days later, she was shockingly diagnosed with ALS.
I have a friend whose husband was diagnosed with ALS at a young age. I will never forget her telling me, "I thought we would go home, he would take some pills and that would be it, he would be cured."
He husband died from ALS. She said "had no idea what was going to happen"
Up until July 6, I knew three people who had ALS, the person I just referred to, an old employer's mom and Lou Gehrig.
I read and read and read. I seriously read everything I could get my eyes on about ALS.
And I started reading and eating ice cream. Somewhere in the middle of my sugar shock, I realized my mom's time was limited and I started making as many trips to Florida that I could.
I wanted to be part of her journey.
I became a part of a run-away train.
My mom was trapped in her own body, totally aware that she was trapped, and there was nothing that could or would stop this train.
Last July, after I celebrated her 81st birthday with her, I came back to an empty home. My kids were gone for the summer and my husband was working. I sat inside of my house, on my couch, in the silence, grieving. And I ate ice cream.
As my husband would call and say he was on his way home, sometimes, I was actually sad he was coming home. I would have to talk to him, I would fell shameful for eating ice cream and I didn't want him to know I had been crying.
My flowers died, I didn't care to water them. I stopped doing projects, and I could not blog about my mom. Her journey was too personal and if I wrote about it, it was real. I could not do it.
Monthly, I made the trip. I would get on the plane, look out the window as the plane departed from Florida, a giant tears would fall.
And then I would arrive home, go through the motions, check boxes, eat ice cream and book tickets.
But July turned to September, and then October. Every trip to Florida, I was greeted by a new person who was in my mom's body. In October, I knew the end was near. And worse than all of that, my mom could no longer laugh, smile, yawn, cry, or hold her head up.
All those teenage years I hated my mom yelling at me or calling my name, and all I wanted to do was hear her call my name now or laugh.
Shortly after I left Florida in December, my mom passed. With a tear falling from her cheek.
She did not want to die and I will be forever proud of the battle she fought.
Look, I know that I am so fortunate. I am almost 62. I lost my mom at 61, I had 18 moths of fore warning and many moments that I will forever cherish and also some outrageously funny moments. Mom was mentally present at all times and as horrible as it was for her, it was an gigantic gift to all who loved her.
This past weekend, I made a list. I crossed everything off that list. First time in months.
My girlfriend told me, after she lost her mom, she "felt like she had the flu for a year." Ten months to go. I can do this, I will do this.
It is so amazing to me, that after a person passes, what you remember about them.
One summer, my dad was taking some kids fishing. Mom and I could not wait for them to leave. We were having five days of "no husband, only child, eat what you want, when you want, kitchen is closed" week.
We also told one of the little guys that was going fishing that "we are going on a huge diet while you are gone, you won't even recognize us when you get back."
Off the 'testosterone truck" left and the diet started.
When they returned, the little kid got out of the truck and said, "hey, I recognize you, guess the diet didn't work."
My mom looked over at me and said, "hope that kid has tics in his hair."
For some reason, my first full day of ice cream free, I thought about this story
and laughed.
And I am sure my mom would laugh if I reminded her of this.
Two greatest human emotions are love and grief. You cannot have one without the other.
So it begins, going to move forward in my life without my mom. The more I try to move forward, the more I realize she may not be physically here, but she certainly is deep in my heart, and I hear her speak daily.
I'm pretty sure I can hear her say, "make sure you shut the freezer when you put that ice cream back. And can you please leave some for me?"
