Snark?

I have mentioned before that, after years of "old fashioned" journals, I love keeping this blog.I've discovered interesting people to follow and like having a digital copy of my thoughts. One only complaint I've discovered but knowing people read this is that I feel the need to always be positive. I would never dare to say any aspect of my life is less than puppies and rainbows when I know others are reading. Maybe this is because I don't want to seem like a complainer. Maybe it is because I feel the constant need to give the impression of having it all together. Maybe it is because I am a giant wimp and fear prevents me from putting negative thoughts out into cyberspace. Whatever the reason, I keep everything positive here.
I had the great idea of starting a super private blog in which to get it all out. I even had an idea of a possible book that portrayed two points of view within the same character and situations. Once it was time to create this blog, I couldn't do it. Although I would not consider myself a negative person, the thought of having nothing more than a complaining blog seemed self destructive. No good could come from it.

That leads me here. Maybe the world would be a happier place if we all found some positive in everything all the time.

It was one year ago this week that I got the call that we needed to go to Florida to say goodbye to Mom. The months that followed were a roller coaster of emotions. Dad didn't follow the Do Not Resuscitate. In Florida, the spouse has some rights to veto it. I did not want Mom to die any quicker, but it was so difficult to know that her wishes were not being followed. I can't blame Dad; I can't imagine letting Mike go. Eventually, Mom decided she was ready. She told Dr Martinez to stop all treatment. Five days later, she was gone. She was so excited for Liam's blessing. Even though she was unable to make the trip to be there, she told me she was going to try her hardest to stay until after Saturday. She passed on Sunday.

I remember someone telling me that marriage is not about the wedding. "After the wedding, you're married." I keep thinking of that in relation to Mom. After someone dies, they're gone. It seems simple, but after the dust settles, after the flowers die and the cards stop coming, that person is still gone. After people stop checking on you and you're supposed to be over it is when it hits you. I still take a different way home from work to avoid reaching for the phone the way that I did for so long to call Mom on the way home from work each afternoon. It is Kristy calling me every day on her way home from work so she doesn't have to not call Mom. (Not sure if that makes sense.)

Before she died, I thought that hard part would be not being able to call when Liam made milestones. He was four months old when she died. The last "guess what Liam just did" call was about him trying cereal. I did cry when Liam took steps and I couldn't call. However, the hard part was when I was afraid Liam had chickenpox and couldn't call Mom. It was when Liam's fever spiked and when I had to make an appointment with an ENT because of his ear infections.

As all these thoughts go through my head, I try my hardest to grasp what Mom was going through towards the end. I've learned more about her youth in the months since she died. I refuse to let anger consume me or even penetrate me. However, I look at my relationship with my own child. If Liam falls quicker than I can catch him, it kills me. When he is sick, I spend the entire time doing everything I can trying to make him feel better. I would do anything to make Liam happy and keep him healthy. There is nothing better than getting a smile or a sloppy kiss from that little boy. I would do anything for the privilege of getting to see who he becomes. I will never, ever understand why my mom didn't think it was important to do that as well.

Sometimes, I'd get upset thinking about all the things my mom will miss out on in Liam's life. Going back to that positive spin, Mike reflected that she may miss all of Liam's milestones, but Mom was able to see all of mine. How lucky am I for that?



One year ago this weekend, Liam met his nana for the first and last time. He knew exactly what to do. The resemblance between he and my mom is uncanny. I know that is no coincidence.