It is a very happy Mother's Day around here! Lots of special treats and extra love from my girls. I hope all the mommies and mommies-to-be are having a relaxing, stress free, dirty diaper free day! Yes, I'm doing a load of laundry right now, but my only "chore" for the day. Today the balance scales have tipped in favour of ME!
A side note: My oldest daughter said, "Mom, I think we should have a Kid's Day when Kid's can get presents and toys." This was of course said with her most serious face and adult voice. I said, "That's a nice idea!" What I wanted to say, "Isn't every day Kid's Day, especially when you visit your grandparents!" :-) Very funny!
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Friday, May 7, 2010
Coping skills.
I'm struggling this week. The death of my uncle is bothering me more than I thought it would. I'm sad that he is gone and gone so quickly, but my real struggle is in the likeness I feel with my cousin. I find myself trapped playing the "what-if" game. What if my dad died four days before my thirtieth birthday? What if he had died two months before my wedding? What if he had died before I had my girls? What if he dies before my youngest gets to know him? How would I feel? How does SHE feel???
My husband is working nights so we have had little opportunity to talk, and instead I am stewing, thinking, feeling sad. I think if he were here he would tell me that it is sad. He would hug me. He would understand why I feel the way I do, but knowing him he would tell me two things. First, I need to prepare myself that these things are going to happen to my loved ones. Second, that they haven't happened yet and that we are lucky enough to have shared our wedding, our girls and other special moments with all of our parents and my grandparents. Then he might even add a third thought - if I were in my cousins position my dad would want me to keep on living. Just like her dad would want for her. Still so very sad!
(Can't wait for my husband to get home from work tonight. He always knows just what to say. Well, most of the time.) ;-)
My husband is working nights so we have had little opportunity to talk, and instead I am stewing, thinking, feeling sad. I think if he were here he would tell me that it is sad. He would hug me. He would understand why I feel the way I do, but knowing him he would tell me two things. First, I need to prepare myself that these things are going to happen to my loved ones. Second, that they haven't happened yet and that we are lucky enough to have shared our wedding, our girls and other special moments with all of our parents and my grandparents. Then he might even add a third thought - if I were in my cousins position my dad would want me to keep on living. Just like her dad would want for her. Still so very sad!
(Can't wait for my husband to get home from work tonight. He always knows just what to say. Well, most of the time.) ;-)
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Loss.
More and more I notice that each wedding, baby, and all the other happy events that come with adulthood seem to be accompanied by a sad one. This week in particular I find myself stewing over what it means to lose a loved one. I consider myself lucky to never have experienced the loss of a close family member, but I'd like to share the story of someone in family who just has.
There is a young woman in my family who lost her father two days ago. He fought a very short, but valiant battle with cancer. His prognosis from the beginning was poor, but no one expected his battle to end in less than three months. Although it is sad that we anticipated his death none of us expected his condition to deteriorate so quickly, and so we still find ourselves feeling some degree of disbelief.
For me the most difficult part of this sad turn of events is thinking about the young woman. She and I are the same age; in fact her birthday is almost exactly a month before mine. And, as I mentioned, her father died two days ago exactly four days before her thirtieth birthday. My sadness and compassion for her runs deeper than just thinking about how I would feel if my father died in the week before my birthday. I am teary-eyed just thinking about her upcoming wedding. That's right, in a little over two months she is suppose to be celebrating one of the happiest days of her life. I can't stop thinking about what she must be feeling, and I am overwhelmed with empathy and compassion. I know there is little to nothing I can do to ease her grief, and so instead I find myself thinking about my own daughters.
Having children has its fair share of trials and tribulations, but I wouldn't trade being a parent for anything. I would give up almost anything to be able to share a million memories with my daughters, to be able to witness their happiest days and most joyous moments. I will pick them up when they are sad or hurt, and boost them even higher when they think they've reached the top. It is moments like these, stories like this one, that give me a sense of urgency and a neediness to be with them, hug them, laugh with them. No matter what, no matter how busy, no matter how tired or grumpy, I want my daughters to know they are loved and that my dream for them is to live life to the fullest. I hope that the young woman in my family is able to remember that this is the dream her father probably had for her, and that she steps into the future with a heart full of memories past and dreams to come.
There is a young woman in my family who lost her father two days ago. He fought a very short, but valiant battle with cancer. His prognosis from the beginning was poor, but no one expected his battle to end in less than three months. Although it is sad that we anticipated his death none of us expected his condition to deteriorate so quickly, and so we still find ourselves feeling some degree of disbelief.
For me the most difficult part of this sad turn of events is thinking about the young woman. She and I are the same age; in fact her birthday is almost exactly a month before mine. And, as I mentioned, her father died two days ago exactly four days before her thirtieth birthday. My sadness and compassion for her runs deeper than just thinking about how I would feel if my father died in the week before my birthday. I am teary-eyed just thinking about her upcoming wedding. That's right, in a little over two months she is suppose to be celebrating one of the happiest days of her life. I can't stop thinking about what she must be feeling, and I am overwhelmed with empathy and compassion. I know there is little to nothing I can do to ease her grief, and so instead I find myself thinking about my own daughters.
Having children has its fair share of trials and tribulations, but I wouldn't trade being a parent for anything. I would give up almost anything to be able to share a million memories with my daughters, to be able to witness their happiest days and most joyous moments. I will pick them up when they are sad or hurt, and boost them even higher when they think they've reached the top. It is moments like these, stories like this one, that give me a sense of urgency and a neediness to be with them, hug them, laugh with them. No matter what, no matter how busy, no matter how tired or grumpy, I want my daughters to know they are loved and that my dream for them is to live life to the fullest. I hope that the young woman in my family is able to remember that this is the dream her father probably had for her, and that she steps into the future with a heart full of memories past and dreams to come.
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