Saturday, June 28, 2008

Quick, Speedily, Rapid

There are few things in this world that I sincerely love. My family, of course, is number one. The other thing I honestly cannot live without (ha ha) is food. I love food. I love to eat. I love sitting and chatting and laughing and eating. Seriously, it's one of my favorite activities.

But that brings me to tomorrow. Tomorrow I am giving up one of my true loves. Tomorrow we are beginning a fast for my Mom. At 6:00 PM we will open our fast surrounded by friends and loved ones, and of course with a pleading prayer to our Heavenly Father. We all have our own beliefs when it comes to spirituality, and whatever your beliefs are, I ask you to please join us in our fast. Please, do whatever you feel you can, and please do so with a sincere prayer of comfort in your heart. I understand that fasting may be a new concept for you, for whatever reason. You can read a story about it here. Mostly we are just fasting as a way to enhance our receptiveness to the Spirit, and to more fully understand our roles pertaining to my Mom's illness. There may not come a cure, there may not come a vision from Heaven, but there may come the still small voice reassuring us that we are doing what we need to. And that's enough for me.

We will close our fast on Sunday night at 6:00 PM with a prayer of thanks. Feel free to fast the entire 24 hours if you can. If you cannot, just do what you feel you can do, and if you cannot or choose not to fast, please just keep a prayer in your heart. If you'd like to read more about our gospel, and our law of fasting, you can read it here.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

What can I say?

I feel like a small comment to the wonderful comments I've received wouldn't be adequate enough to thank all of you that have sent well wishes my way. I am sincerely grateful for every word that has been written on behalf of my mom. You will never know what a difference it makes to my day seeing how many of you that have never even met my mom are so concerned about her. Thank you again, from the entirety of my heart.

And for the record, I hope to be back to my irreverent self soon. Or, as my dad put it, my vile realist self.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

The smell of roses

Here I sit, late at night, smelling fresh cut roses. We have dozens of roses throughout our house right now. Doz-ens. You would think some one had just won the Miss America pageant or something. But this is a memory I want to keep forever. The smell of fresh roses permeating my mother's house. It's a smell I always want to associate with her, and the feeling of love and appreciation I have for her. I don't want to seem sappy, and use all the usual stereotypical euphamisms about roses, and thorns, and whatnot, I just want a simple, fresh, beautiful smell to keep her memory in my heart forever. I want the smell to bring to life the wonderful family times we've shared this last few days. The "Elizabeth Smarticle", and "A-Prayer-Ican Idol". The tears of joy and utter devastation that have flowed freely from each and every one of us. I want this wonderful smell to help me to remember my mother, and her way of making even the most upset visitor laugh, and leave her room with a smile on their face, and her imprint on their heart. I vow to always go back to these wonderfully tragic days each and every time I smell a fresh cut rose.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

No Words

Hello, blog friends. I'm back for a short stint as a blogger again. Only this time I reappear a different woman. Remember all that mumbo jumbo about a creative renewal, blah blah blah? Yeah, do I have a story for you. I guess you could say I got what I asked for, and much, much more. Lucky me. And for the record, this computer has no spell check, so I apologize in advance.

Where do I begin? Should I get right to it or string you along with the memories that litter my brain of what went on that particular night? String you along, you say? Okay, whatever floats your boat.

Here's what I saw. Father's Day night. Around midnight, in fact. A very full, bright moon. Ants circling the kitchen floor. For some reason my eyes and brain were fixated on those ants. I couldn't tear them away. They just circled and circled, and had not a care in the world. If only I could have felt what those ants felt at that moment, instead of what was about to drop onto my soul. I heard words coming from the other end of the phone. I understood the words, but I didn't, all at the same time. I heard myself saying things like "how big?" and "where is it?" and "how much time?", but the answers didn't register. Honestly, that voice could have told me I'd won the lottery, and it wouldn't have mattered. My life was different. In a flood of nausea and pounding ears, I heard myself scream for my sister. I felt my feet on the floor, but nothing else. I felt my head in my hands, and the cold tile on my soles, and I heard the dog door swing as one of the poodles jumped exitedly through it. But still, I was numb. The details are easy to remember. They are burnt into my memory as fresh as the birth of my children. But it's the words, the reality, the knowing, that are all just feelings. I know I felt a strange sense of calm, and then a subsequent urgency to call my brother and sister to come and be with us, even though it was the middle of the night. We sat outside, smelling the damp summer grass, and hearing the swing squeak as we lightly rocked and reflected on our situation. There were many tears, and surprising bursts of laughter, dotted with bouts of anger and frustration. There was prayer, and more tears, and then finally exhaustion.

This doesn't happen to me. We are not those people. I am not the one whose children will be raised without a grandparent.

But it seems I just may be. And it sucks. I'm pissed. And yet, I'm well aware of a strange chain of small miracles that have been happening over the last year or so to prepare me just for this situation.

I don't understand why She has been chosen to travel this road. I cannot fathom that in the preexistence she would have chosen to leave her family at such a young age. And yet I can. I can't understand that she is fine with it. And for some reason I feel fine with it as long as I'm around her. How is it that she is the one with Pancreatic Cancer with Liver metastises, and she is the one buoying us all up? I know how, it's because She's just that way. She always has been.
She is the caregiver, not the care receiver. And even in her yellow state, she still wants to make sure we know where the money for groceries is, and that she needs a draw for so-and-so at the office. She's just that way.

I'm still numb. I'm still pissed. And I'm still in awe of Her strength and beauty. If anyone can make yellow skin fashionable, it's her. She is wonderful.

I love you , mom.

For an update on what's going on with the cancer situation, please check our new blog, Cancer Sucks, and feel free to comment.

Monday, June 2, 2008

It's not you, it's me.

My dear blog buddies,

As I write you this letter, I am torn inside. I am a broken woman. I understand that sometimes in life we have to do the right thing, and it's not always the easy thing. I only hope you can remember that as I continue.

I am embarking on a journey, of sorts. As I prepare to spend the summer abroad, and by "summer" I mean June, and by "abroad" I mean in Utah, I have a sense of a need for a new perspective. A creative rejuvenation, if you will. A rejuvenation that can only come from a fresh mind. A mind cleared from worldly thought. Okay, not really on that worldly crap, but it sounds good, right?

I guess what I'm saying is I need a break. I don't mean that we should never see each other again, maybe just take a step back to reevaluate our relationship. Get our heads on straight, and find out what we really want out of our times together.

Sometimes a fresh perspective is just what is needed for a relationship to blossom. So I'll return in July for posting anew. Please, keep strong, and remember who you are and what you want out of life. Don't be surprised if there is a quick pop-in visit here and there, just to keep tabs and make sure we're still on track, but don't plan on anything substantial.

I wish you the best while I am away, and know that I will always love you, no matter what. If all else fails, we can still be friends.