Pics... as promised!

NEW YORK CITY!!!

Ahhh... I am just returning from my NYC adventure...and I am TIRED! I had planned the trip to NYC to walk a half marathon to signify my upcoming 35th birthday. I wanted to do something healthy as I hit this significant age... in the process of deciding to do the half marathon I had recruited some friends into going as well. (Five other people were supposed to be part of the adventure.) My plan was to fly to NYC Friday spend part of the day solo, meet up with friends later that day who were going to meet me in NYC after having been to DC...then Saturday meet up with the rest of the gang and party it up in NYC... and walk the half marathon this morning...and all head back to Maine today... I was going to hitch a ride with the couple who had been in DC...
Well... life does not always go according to plan... As the marathon approached my knee (non pvns knee) had been bothering me, my IT band was not in good shape and my physical herapist didn't think doing the whole race would be doable... but I was going to try anyway... to do some of it...one person decided she couldn't make it due to other vacation travel plans... then one of my closest set of friends (the folks arriving from DC and supposed to be giving me a ride back) had to back out due to some life circumstances... leaving, me, one of my friends and her boyfriend... well last weekend I learned that my friend's boyfriend wasn't going to make it... leaving myself and one friend, Sue... and she was not sure how she was going to get to and from the city... so I didn't know for sure how I was going to get home...
But, it has worked out, and I am home... from a WONDERFUL weekend in NYC. Friday morning I was up at 3:30 a.m. so that I could be at the airport well before my 6:30 a.m. flight. I flew, one way, to LaGuardia in NY... which by the way, took LESS than an hour air time... from the airport and jumped on a bus to take me into Manhattan. I got off the bus near Grand Central and walked to my hotel... and it was only 9:30 in the morning! I did not expect to be able to check into my hotel, but knew I could leave my bags there as I explored the city. But, to my amazement, I got to check in as soon as I arrived!!! That gave me time to get things situated in my cell... I mean room... (it was sooo small, it felt like a jail cell!!!) Then I went out walking around, just to see what I could see... then I went to a wellness expo that had been set up for the people participating in the half marathon, including picking up race numbers for me and Sue. The expo was very crowded and I walked around for a while, got all kinds of free stuff, and then took it all back to the hotel to unload. I decided that would be a good time to take a power nap... but about 30 minutes after I had lain down, my phone rang. It was a friend of mine, from NYC, who I had not seen in ages... We had been out of touch for a while and he randomly had called me last week and had said, like he does in every conversation, "So when are you coming to NY so I can take you out for a drink?" He was surprised when I told him I was coming in on Friday! He had been unsure of his work schedule, but managed to get the afternoon off, and picked me up at my hotel and we went to walk around a nice market in the lower part of Manhattan and out for a margarita. I got back to my hotel around 5:30 p.m. and finished my power nap, getting up at 6:15 to get ready for my show... I had tickets for the 8:00 performance of HAIR on Broadway. I got dressed up, little black dress and heels... and walked the 2-3 blocks to the theater. My seat was in the LAST row of the HIGHEST part of the theater! But it had leg room, so I was great with that. As it got closer to curtain time, the place was still fairly empty and one of the ushers informed those of us in the nosebleed section that we were welcome to move down into empty seats to get closer to the stage. I stayed kind of behind most people, still wanting that aisle seat for my legs... but I did move about 10 rows closer, which was a great view... that's the thing about the Broadway shows... the views from most seats are adequate and do not take away from the performances. I have loved the music from the Original Broadway show of Hair for years... I have the cd and have been known to blast it while cleaning... so I was very excited about seeing the show... plus I have always believed that had I been around in the 60's, I would have been a hippie, no doubt about it... I had seen the movie and knew the plot... and was expecting the deep character development and emotional connection to the characters... but it didn't happen for me, at this show, like it has in most others. They sang...the songs from the soundtrack I have... but there was no conversation between the songs, no character or plot development... the performers were talented, VERY talented... I am always in awe of people who can sing and dance like that... but the way this version of Hair was written, disappointed me a little... But maybe that's because I have been fortunate to see several Broadway shows and have seen some AMAZING ones! But I was still glad I went! After the show I met up with another friend, who as it worked out, happened to be in NYC for the weekend on business...whose hotel, ironically, was one and a half blocks up from mine! CRAZY?!! He met me at my hotel after the show so that I could change into something more comfortable, because I was NOT going to walk around in my heels longer than needed! We ended up going to a bar for a couple of drinks. This was sooooo NYC... he thought there was a rooftop bar close to our hotels, and we found the entrance and asked if it was open. (It was a beautiful spring night, warm with a light breeze, perfect for sitting outside.10 One of the two LARGE bouncers asked if we were on the list... The List?? ahhh... nope... so we started to leave but then the guy said that he could let us in given the condition that we promise to spend a certain amount of money in drinks, and if we didn't we still had to pay that amount... so my friend agreed... and we were led to the elevator then escorted to the bar... it was quite dark, but had some cool lighting around the indoor bar area. We got drinks and then proceeded outside on the rooftop... it was beautiful up there! The moon was out, we could see some stars, and we could of course see all of the tall lit up buildings around us... The seating was crazy... the furniture looked like it belonged on a beach in Aruba... wicker couches with large cushions plus these 'bed' looking things... that looked like they would be on a beach too, kind of with canopies built atop the four posts...where people would lay to relax, under a little shade... we stayed outside on one of the couches while the crowd grew and grew and the dance floor inside became packed. We had a great time getting caught up and joking around, giving each other a bit of a hard time here and there. I think that I needed that kind of a night, where I was distracted and really enjoying myself, being present in every moment... I felt really happy... and almost a sense of freedom I haven't felt in a long time... this whole trip was kind of like that for me... I felt like I was able to get away from things... Saturday morning I strolled into Times Square around 9 a.m. and got something for breakfast... I sat in the middle of times square at one of these small tables they have set up there... It was cool - I was there a bit before the city fully awoke. I called Sue to see where she was on her drive to CT so that I would have an idea of what time she would arrive at Grand Central. After breakfast I wandered around a little more... and then went back to the hotel for a bit then hit the pavement again... Sue's train would arrive around 12:30 p.m. and I promised to meet her at Grand Central, so I decided to take my time as I went to meet her... and headed over towards Rockefellar Center and returned to St. Patrick's Cathedral to see teh stain glass windows there that I love. I am not a religious person... and in recent years have questioned the existence of God and have felt more resentment than faith in the almighty... but that church... is amazing... it truly is a work of art. I then wandered down 5th avenue and saw some street performers near the NYC Library then headed back towards the train station where there was a little festival going on...for Earth Day...there was some live music and some booths to look through... it was cool. Then I met up with Sue and we walked back to the hotel to drop off her stuff... then we decided to head to Central Park to scope out the course and to see what we could see... On our way there we decided to go to a Deli to get lunch to take to the park... and we went to "Hello Deli", which if you are a Late Night with David Letterman, you have heard of... The man behind the counter was none other than THE Rupert G! The guy Dave talks to on his show... We tried to play it cool ordering our sandwiches... but then I asked it we could take our picture with Rupert G and he was nice enough to pose with us... He asked us where we were from and he asked us about the lobster industry here... and was shocked that I am from Maine and don't like lobster! He asked if my dislike came from having too much of it when I was growing up, and I said no, that lobster was very expensive and my family was not in a position to have lobster often. He was blown away that people in Maine could to afford to eat the food for which it is best known. It was a cool conversation. We then went up to the park and walked around... had our lunch (GREAT sandwiches Rupert G!!) and walked around more... I was pleased that my knee felt great during the walk... however... because I have not been able to walk much due to my knee, my feet have not built up the needed calluses and I thought I was developing some hot spots (pre blister spots) and decided to pick up some moleskin on our way back to the hotel... by the time we made our way back... I had walked a lot that day... probably 6-7 miles... and the hot spots were full blown blisters.. both feet... on the balls of my feet... pretty big...between the size of quarters and half dollars... OUCHIE! We then decided to go out to dinner (I hobbled, Sue walked..) and we went to a cuban restaruant, which was fantastic! Neither of us had eaten Cuban food before... I assumed it would be like mexican food... it was similar, but definitely had it's own flavor... Delicious! Then we stopped off at a bar for a drink... a bar that Rico had suggested...unfortunately, the bar was dead... not hopping like we had hoped... and after that, my feet were screaming... and Sue was tired, so we opted to make our way back to the hotel, pauding in Times Square so Sue could see it at night...

Fortunately Sue and I had talked this week, and knowing that my knee had been bothering me and that it was supposed to rain today, we had decided that we may or may not do all of the race.. but that we would start it... well last night my feet were killing me and I told her that I knew I wouldn't be able to do any of the race... that I would go up with her to the park and hoped she would do as much of it as she wanted to... and she said that she would see how she felt, but that she wasn't too worried about it either way. I was relieved she felt that way.. after coercing her to come to NYC to do the half marathon... knowing that she didn't h ave her heart set on finishing it was a relief... I had to let go of that idea when my knee started bothering me last month...

So this morning we awoke to the sounds of cabs driving through puddles on the streets below our hotel room... It was pouring! Sue decided to shower first and had her walking gear ready to go... after her shower she steps out of the bathroom and told me her clothes got soaked in the bathroom because the shower curtain was not pulled as far as she had thought... she tried to blow dry them... but it didn't really work... I told her that she was ahead of the game because I was sure she would be that wet during the race anyway... at that moment she said... she wasn't going to do it, the marathon... but still wanted to walk up and check it out... so we did... sporting our rain coats over our jeans, t-shirts and sweaters... by the time we had walked the 9 blocks or so to the entrance of Central Park we were soaked and cold... we continued towards the starting line and more and more people were heading in the same direction. It made me a little regretful that I was not going to be a part of something that involved so many women... it would really be a cool thing... but I was also relieved that I would not have to walk or stand in those weather conditions for 3+ hours... Sue looked at me and said, ok.. let's go get breakfast! So we did... we went to a diner close to Carnegie Hall, and as are all food establishments in NYC, it was pricey, especially for breakfast, but it was delicious! We both had cinnamon raisin pecan french toast... also called the Tony Bennett French toast... YUMMY! We made it back to the hotel and changed into dry clothes, checked out of the hotel, and hailed a cab to get us to Grand Central! We got on the train, got to Sue's car, and came back to Maine...

I feel like I was gone for more than 2 nights... I fit A LOT into a short amount of time. Other than the blisters... I had an awesome time! AWESOME! I need to do things like this more often... I really do... and I am thrilled that Sue came too, that she enjoyed her time in the city... I am thankful for that... but this trip also reaffirmed that I can and need to do some things solo... It also taught me that while I was busy trying to plan this trip... trying to coordinate people's schedules... trying to figure it all out... that it just worked out... the original plan of having 5 of my friends with me fell apart... but somehow it worked out that I got to fit in a lot of other things, with other friends who live in or happened to be in NYC... so it was great. Over the last few years, I have become more of a control freak than I was as a kid... when I was known as the "Who gives a care" girl... where nothing seemed to stress me out... and this experience reminded me that it's okay to not always have things planned or controlled... granted I had control over what decisions I made... but I had a great time without worrying about all the little details! Yay!

I am also happy to report that my knee tolerated a lot of walking this weekend... A LOT... of walking... and had it not been for my blisters... I would not be any worse for the wear! Yay!

(Pictures soon!! I promise!)

processing the whole cemetery thing...

The cemetery where my mother, grandmother, and grandfather are buried is not one in which I have spent much time...in fact my association with that cemetery has not involved graves... the association has been, until now... with a summer night... It was a warm summer night and two of my friends and I were all home from college for the summer. There was little to do in our small town and we were doing this thing where we drove around town and when we came to an intersection, one of us would yell a direction in which we would turn... as we came to the fork in the road leading to the cemetery someone yelled RIGHT!!! So, we turned down the road... and as we drove by the cemetery (on both sides of the road) we saw a person flagging us down. We slowed and saw it was a woman covered with mud... we stopped and she approached the car and was obviously distressed... She told us that her car was stuck in the cemetery and she couldn't get it out... I remember thinking oh my gosh, this poor woman, If my car was stuck in a cemetery in the middle of the night I would be freaked out too... she asked if we could help her pull her car out... and I told her that my car had no towing capabilities and that I could drive down the road to the local radio station and call (pre cell phones people!) the police to help her. When I said police, she panicked... and started backing away from the car, saying, no police, please no police and she ran away...as she disappeared into the night I suddenly realized it was not mud covering her clothing, it was blood... What the hell was happening. Had she killed someone, had someone tried to kill her? I had no idea... Not knowing what to do I put the pedal to the metal and drove to the radio station and begged them to call the police. They did and we waited there for a little while before heading back towards the cemetery... we drove back by the cemetery and the police were there... we came to a stop and told the officer that we were the kids who had called. The officer told us they found the woman's car, "right full of blood," but couldn't find the woman. They asked us if we could drive around town to see if we saw her anywhere and if we did to call them...the great ideas of a small town police officer... a car full of young adults completely freaking out about a bloody woman... should spend time searching said small town for a blood covered woman...about whose reason for being covered in blood were unknown... We rode around town, in a much more somber mood than when we had decided to turn down that road... and did not find the woman. The next day I couldn't take it and called the police to inquire about the woman. The officer was kind of dismissive, told me that they found the woman, that she was a frequent flyer so to speak... she had gone to the cemetery to kill herself because she couldn't handle her abusive husband anymore... she started cutting herself and then decided that she couldn't go through it because she had a two year old son and didn't want to leave him... That was pretty traumatizing for me... I remember trying to go to sleep that night and subsequent nights but as soon as I closed my eyes I saw her, backing away from my car, covered with blood and crying... and that story reminds me of other events that happened that same summer... events that I equate with violence and death... earlier that same summer, my first night of working in the papermill that year (my summer job) was with some of the men I had worked with the previous summer and one of the men decided he was leaving the mill mid shift because he wasn't feeling well. Another coworker followed him out to the parking lot because it was very uncharacteristic of the first coworker to just leave like that... and on their way to the parking lot, the first man collapsed... and died... heart attack, just like that... and later that same summer I was working, again at the mill, and one night when I was working, one of my coworkers was killed in one of the paper machines...it was awful... he was young, a newlywed, talking about starting a family... and he reached up into the paper machine, something he had done hundreds of time... but this time something went wrong... So that summer... I really struggled with the concepts of life, death, fairness, and god... the randomness of death with someone suddenly having a heart attack... trying to understand how one woman who tried to kill herself survived while another man who wanted so badly to live and build a life with his bride... was killed... where was the fairness in this? It haunted me all summer and for a long time afterwards...

So THAT has been my association with the cemetery... until now...over the last year, as I have arrived and departed my hometown, I passed by the cemetery knowing that my mother's grave is there. I knew the general area where her grave was... but had not gone there. There are so many steps in the process of losing someone... I knew when mom was sick that she was dying... but it didn't make her death any easier... and while I believe my mother was at peace when she died, that she was not in pain... I see her illness and death as violent...the cancer was violent in how it attacked her body, her life, and all of us who were in her life... after mom died I remember knowing it was real, and things that happened made it more and more real... including seeing her obituary... and for me, the idea of seeing my mom's grave, has in some ways been something that would somehow solidify that she is gone... that sounds silly because it's not like I have been in denial that my mom is gone, definitely not... but seeing a grave of someone, with the date of their birth and the date of their death... brings a permanence to it... it doesn't bring closure...maybe for some it does.. but it didn't for me... I had been avoiding going to the cemetery... but as I left my Dad's house I thought about whether or not this was the trip where I would stop... visiting my mother's grave is something I had thought about, wondering if I would go with dad or if I would go solo... and I knew it was something I needed to do... alone. so, Sunday I decided that I would turn right, down the road to the cemetery, this time in daylight... and if I chickened out there was a quick left hand turn I could make to resume my trip to get out of dodge... I didn't make that left turn... I kept going straight... I knew that mom's grave was somewhere near the fire hydrant... not sure how I knew that, perhaps from remembering where my grandfather's grave had been and maybe from hearing Dad mention it at some point... So I parked in one of the cemetery roads close to the fire hydrant... and got out of my truck...my heart was beating fast and my heart rate was up... and I started to look around... recognizing the last names on the stones... I knew that my mom's stone would stand out, being less weathered than most of the others... and it didn't take long for me to see it... her name.. on a gravestone. I think I stopped breathing... and I stopped... wondering if something inside me needed to go closer or if that was it, if that was enough... but I went closer... read her name, the dates of her life... and that she was my father's wife... I didn't know what I should feel, or what I was feeling... some people apparently find comfort in visiting someone's grave... and I can definitely say seeing her stone was not comforting for me, though perhaps seeing her there, next to her mother meant something... I thought about taking a picture of her grave, just to have it.. and to see if my sister would want to see it... but I couldn't. I guess that in some ways it was something too personal to photograph... I stood there... crying...wondering what I should do... and I decided that I wanted to leave a Small rock on her gravestone. I am not Jewish, but I like the Jewish tradition of leaving stones on grave markers... from what I understand, the purpose of leaving the stones is to signify that someone was there, that the person has not been forgotten... and as a way to honor and protect the person's grave... and I liked that idea... something tangible I could do... in that moment... so I found three tiny stones, one for each grave, my grandfather, my grandmother, and my mom... for the branches of my family tree... and set them on the corners of their stones... Of course, my mother's was the hardest... and I lingered there, close to her stone and touched the letters of her name... Why do people do that? Images of people caressing the engraved names on headstones are pretty common in movies where people die... but why do we do it? Why do we need to feel it on our fingers? Her stone was brighter than those around her... which knowing my mother's personality shouldn't surprise me... but... I want that brightness to somehow continue, and not weather... because I want her to stand out... It began sprinkling while I was at her grave... and my visit was very brief... I don't know yet, if I am glad I went... I guess it crosses off one more thing on the list of things I knew I would do eventually... but... it's such an intense thing... another realization in this process... and it is something that is going to be in my head for a while and will develop more meaning for me after I give it more time... I would like to somehow be able to not associate my mom's death with violence... and I think that's a work in progress...the cemetery is not a violent place... at least during the day, when there are no blood covered women stranded there... And... on a clear day I think the mountain which mom loved so much, is visible from there... perhaps not from her grave, but I'm not sure...My dad has to pass her grave regularly, on his way to the dump... and I wonder how much time he spends there... ahhh... WAY too much thinking for this brain...yuck... time for bed...

They look like such strong hands...

Remember this guy? He is the Rockbiter, from the movie, The Neverending Story... In the movie "The Nothing" is destroying the land and all that inhabit it... as the nothing approached the Rockbiter he held on to everything trying to protect it from The Nothing... as the story's hero approaches, the Rockbiter is sitting, staring at his hands... and asks, "They look like big, good, strong hands. Don't they?" And then goes on to describe how he had failed, for not being strong enough... even though The Nothing was an unstoppable force.... That image, of the defeated Rockbiter has been in my head today...

I have often felt inadequate... usually when there is a situation in which I can do nothing to help. The last few years have made me feel very inadequate... not being able to change things... feeling and being absolutely helpless... at the mercy of what was happening around me... Of course this includes my mother's death. There was absolutely nothing that I could do to stop what was happening... to alter it... and there was also nothing I could do to protect the people I love from the pain they were feeling. I hate it.

When I left my Dad's house yesterday, we got emotional and Dad said something he has said often when we have parted ways since mom got sick...to me and to my sister... he says, "I'm sorry." It's something that I think he feels the need to say... but in thinking about it on my way home yesterday and as I ran around today... I think there is a part of him that feels responsible... that he was in some way inadequate for not being able to jump in front of the bus for mom... for not being the hero he had always been to her... I've thought a lot about my dad in this process, ever since my mom got sick... my dad is the strongest man I know... in many ways. He has always taken care of our family, done things to make us all more comfortable... his role was always the problem solver, the handyman...who fixes things... I've thought about how he has lost his wife... his best friend... and haven't been able to even remotely understand what that must be like for him... I think of him, alone in that big house, and how he is there very day, without her... I have heard him say that he needed to get out for a while, needed to get away from it... but I haven't thought about whether or not Dad felt inadequate... Of course I don't see him in that light, as I am sure he doesn't see me that way... yet if I have felt feelings of being inadequate, I am sure he has as well...

I think he and I have been doing this dance, since mom died... we get together, talk about what we have done...what's going on... and avoid talking about mom's death or how much we miss her... if it does come up, we go way out around it and generalize what we are talking about... It's something that goes without saying, that we are missing her... and I think that we try to protect each other, we make ourselves suck it up when we are together and work really hard at being okay... I think being together is really good for us, but I also think it is hard because it puts mom's absence in the forefront of our minds... when I see Dad I am conscious that I see him without my mom... and I am sure there is a similar thought process for him... But I love being with my Dad... and know that I can't take his hurt away, his loneliness away... but I feel good being with him...

He apologizes for Mom getting sick, for her dying... as if he is trying to take ownership of it somehow... maybe to make sense of it... I want him to know it is not his fault...He did everything he could have possibly done to care for my mother... more than most people could ever have imagined needing to be done to take care of someone... today he emailed me, recognizing how much I miss my mom, how much that connection meant to me... and he said something about knowing that there is no way to replace my mom, but that he wants me to know he is there for me...

It makes me think that he saw my relationship to my mom as closer than my relationship to him... and somehow by me losing my mom, one of my best friends, has added to him feeling inadequate... my relationship with my mother was one of the most important relationships in my life... a Mother daughter relationship is ironically an inadequate way to describe our closeness... but... my relationship with my father is also one of the most important relationships in my life. My relationship with him is different than my relationship with my mom... always has been. As a little girl I loved being with him... fishing (even though I thought it was gross)... squashing potato bugs in the garden(also gross)... watching him pile wood and helping here and there... and even going with him to the dump... were all things I loved to do. I remember going on family trips, with Dad always at the wheel... I always felt safe with Dad driving... and still to this day, he is one of the few people, if not the only person who, when they are driving and I am a passenger, can truly relax... I knew if something got broken, dad would fix it, that he always looked out for my best interests... even if I didn't listen to him when he advised me to not jump rope with sandals on and still have the scar to prove it... When I got a little older and started playing sports it made my bond with my dad even stronger. He got the whole playing sports mentality... and when our team lost a game and I was really pissed off about it and my mom, in her cheery, sing songy voice, would tell me how great I had done... which was well intended, but not what I needed... Dad on the other hand would simply put his arm around me and give me a look... and I knew he got it... I knew he was proud of me, but knew that he understood me, as an athlete in a way my mom didn't. After high school... I worked in the same mill where Dad worked in the summers...and Dad looked out for me... and I knew that his protection extended beyond the reach of his long arms... My Dad has never been a man of many words... he has always been the strong silent type... but he has a side that is there, that many people see... a part of himself that I think he believes is less obvious than his other attributes... a side that is sensitive, caring... sentimental... and although he expresses it differently than my mom did, I have never, ever questioned his love for me or my love for him. I know when he asks if my truck is running alright, he is asking if the truck is running okay, but he is also making sure I am safe in my truck... when he asks how my friends are doing... he is asking how they are, but also asking about whether or not I have support...there are so many examples of my closeness with Dad... and I am sure he hasn't realized how much he did to foster our relationship over the years... He and I have a different relationship than I had with my mom, and that's how it is supposed to be... Daddy's little girls love the relationship they have with their Dad's... So Dad... you need not worry about replacing Mom... Just keep being my Dad... I love you!

May 8, 1952 - April 18, 2009

One year ago today...

I spent the weekend with my dad...we got emotional when I left to head back to my house... On the way out of town I stopped at my mom's grave...this was the first time I had been there...

I miss her.

ahhhhh...

Stressed...type type type... delete delete delete... type...delete... I don't even know what I want to write, but I feel like I need to write... there is lots on my head and I feel in some ways like I am going a million miles an hour, at least in my head... I have been eating badly, lots of carbs, lots of sugar... and I know that my food intake is related to not being able to work out like I want to, but if I am truly honest, it's probably a lot of the underlying stress that I am feeling.

Last year at this time, I was acutely aware of every noise around me... as I listened to my mother's breathing for signs of want or need and for proof or absence of life... I had been with my grandmother when she died and I knew my mom was getting closer and closer to the end of her life... and it sucked... it still sucks. I just went back in my blog and read the entries I made around this time last year and it brought it all back... of course it did... it's not that I had forgotten any of it... although I had forgotten that after my mom dies it was me that removed her wedding band and gave it to my dad... but other than that, all the details are very much in my mind... and those images still come to me as I try to fall asleep some nights. At the time I wrote about how I hoped to forget a lot of the details of those days... and I haven't. I don't think time heals all wounds... I think time allows wounds to close, healed or not healed... leaving scars...

I have really tried hard to avoid thinking about it, even though it has been very present on my back burner... it's there... steaming away...

I hate that my mom is gone. I hate that I can't hear her laugh...feel the comfort she always gave me... And... I don't want to talk to anyone about it.... I want to avoid it because it hasn't gotten easier... perhaps it's become something that is less shocking ... the fact that my mom is gone... but it hasn't gotten easier.

Now I have gone and gotten myself all worked up... and my stomach is all weird... yuck...

Easter

Aren't those eggs beautiful? I found that picture and had to post it today... it reminds me of India, of henna tattoos and the colors that I picture when I think of India...

I just brought up my blog and wanted to write a little bit, and I was attacked... by Lucy... one of my cats... she is a pretty quiet, keep to herself kind of girl, but when she decides she wants some affection... I better give it to her or she sits close to me and stares... or maybe that's staking... my other cats get on my lap and relax, not Lucy, she actively tries to get me to constantly be scratching behind her ear... so she rubs up against my hands, making typing a bit complicated... then, once she has gotten her quota of affection, she jumps down and runs off... Anyway... it is nice to have a morning where I can indulge her... this weekend has been nice because I didn't have track... the first time in a long time... and while I knew I had some things to get done, I wasn't on a set schedule. For two days in a row I woke up without an alarm...not sure when I last had that luxury.

After I woke up I had something to eat then had to get my facebook updates, to see what my friends were up to... and of course many of them are attending Easter services, Easter dinners, or having Easter egg hunts... Our family has never really been big on Easter... I mean, as a kid I got an Easter basket which always included a white chocolate bunny because that was my favorite... one of the things I remember most about Easter was getting this inflatable bunny chair... mine was a brown bunny... I don't remember if I liked it or not, but I remember it...

I never have understood Easter... I mean.... combining Christ with eggs and bunnies, and even chicks... I don't get it. I am not religious, but I have often considered myself a spiritual person - someone who feels closest to myself when I am enjoying nature and find serenity through that... I have never felt like I had a close relationship with "god" but often thought that the moments I feel so connected to nature is probably what a close relationship with god would feel like... during my life I have had times when I believed in god and times where I was very unsure about god's existence. I have perhaps felt more like believing in Mother Nature than god...

Easter brings that debate to the forefront of my mind. Easter is, apparently, one of the bigger holidays for Christians... I have never read the bible... and have no plans to do so. What I know about Christianity is from listening to other people who are religious... but there are so many subtle hypocrisies in the practices of people who are religious... that I have a hard time investing in it... do as I say not as I do, kind of things...many Christians claim that their religion accepts people as children of god, yet discriminate against people because of sexual orientation... believe in charity, yet ignore the homeless man on the street asking for help...claim to live lives thorough their savior, Jesus Christ, yet ignore people who don't seem relevant to their own priorities... there is a lot about religion I do not understand... and will admit, am ignorant about the 'rules' of religion... and my limited knowledge of Christianity is vast in comparison to my knowledge of other religions...

Some people in my life have 'found god,' have much faith, and attend church regularly. My mother was one of those people. My mother believed... in god, in god's will, and had more faith than anyone else I know. She and I had conversations about god, about her faith, and she would never push her beliefs on me, but would say that she hoped that I would one day find the peace that her faith gave her... and I believe that her faith did give her peace... looking into her eyes as she spoke about church, about god, about her beliefs... I could see her passion about it all but also the comfort and contentment it offered her. My mom loved to sing... as a kid I used to act all embarrassed by her songs...because she used to sing to my friends when they came over, but her songs, silly or serious, added to her character. And, my friends loved that about her... but as I got older and listened to my mother's songs, which became more and more hymns or music about faith... I appreciated it... she had a strong voice, and I wish that she had been more confident in her voice and would have joined the church choir... when she sang hymns, her connection to her faith was apparent, more real than any faith I have experienced.

Even as my mom's cancer began to have more strength than she did, she still believed... and offered comfort to her friends and often with reference to her faith... As her battle with cancer continued, I found myself believing less in god, something I was unsure of to begin with. To see all that my mom went through and what my dad went through... I couldn't and still don't understand where god was in all that... which makes me think of that iconic poem "Footprints"... you know the one, where two sets of footprints along a beach decreased to one, and the cynic says that's where god had abandoned him... and god says something about the intervals of one set of footprints was when god was carrying him... insinuating that I should believe that god was with my mom and my father more in those diffcult moments throughout mom's illness than in any others... I can't believe that, not having seen what I saw... and knowing that there were things my dad saw, when I wasn't around, that was worse than what I witnessed.... I just can't believe that god was there, even for part of it... how could god somehow be given credit for good things,the birth of healthy babies, yet blameless for bad things, someone disintegrating from cancer before the eyes of the people who love them most...

I am the cynic and I do not believe that my solo footprints are the results of god bearing my burdens when I was too weak to bear them myself. I am still angry about losing my mother. Yet there are times when I feel I have accepted it, but am not yet at peace with it... I try not to think about it, yet it is still there. Even in my cell phone... whenever I call my dad or he calls me, the stored number comes up as Mom and Dad calling... and I love and hate it all at the same time... love that I am reminded of my mon and dad as a unit, together... but hate it because I know that Dad is solo... and how hard it is for him. And then there is a part of me that wonders if I should edit my phone and have those numbers just say Dad, instead of mom and dad... but that feels wrong... I don't want to take my mom out of my life, any more than she has already been taken...

I am sure there are people in the world who have experienced or witnessed things that would compare to my mother's battle with cancer... some people have seen/experienced worse... and perhaps those people are/were still able to have faith through those difficult times or perhaps those moments were the catalyst for finding god... not for me.

I don't' remember Easter last year... and truth be told, I probably won't remember this one either... other than having this day make me question religion as much as devout people embrace it...

I had forgotten...

I had forgotten that PT can stand for things other than physical therapy... physical torture comes to mind...ok, maybe that's a little extreme for today's PT session... My physical therapist started our session by massaging the IT band... sounds nice, right? massage? Well, it hurt... my IT band is very tender... VERY tender... way more than I realized... I had only been feeling pain after walking for a while, I hadn't realized it hurt if it was touched... apparently massaging it helps... and I will try to do it at home too.... though I am sure that I cannot get the same angle and pressure, but it can't hurt. Then we moved onto some exercises.. these were not painful at all, in fact, I barely felt anything, which my PT guy had forewarned me of... we ended with 60 seconds of me walking on a bosu, on the soft side, with the hard plastic side down. Which seemed pretty easy... (By the way, this picture is a bosu.)

So.. still no more than 1.5 miles of walking...no more than every other day... but I can add the bosu exercise to the mix, for 60 seconds every other day... really? ugh.. I must do what I am told... I hate that... but I will do it... I will I will...

And... after thinking about everything... my whole reason for doing this upcoming half marathon was to turn 35 in a healthy way... and if I push myself so hard that I am in pain, THAT is not healthy... so... I am truly going to listen to the recommendations of my PT guy... if he doesn't think I can do it, without injuring myself further, ok... but if there is a chance that doing it will set me way back, I am not okay with that...

Either way I will be attending the half marathon, with my friends... and we will have fun... I may end up cheering from the sidelines instead of being in it... but.. that's ok... I am talking myself into that being okay...