365 Days Remembered: A Lifetime of Courage

In the grand scheme of things, a year really doesn't seem like a very long distance traveled in time... 365 days can be broken down numberous ways... Four seasons, 12 months or 525,600 minutes...

In those 525,600 minutes... Every 3 minutes someone is diagnosed with breast cancer... And every 13 minutes someone dies from it. 

Roughly 525,600 minutes ago we got the news that one of our cherished ambassadors and pink warriors lost her battle. Bridget Spence had gained her pink wings. A resounding "thud" in all of our hearts was heard nation (and even world) wide as we all gasped and felt the sting of our heartbroken tears as they fell from our eyes.

The day we lost Bridget would be one that marked forever in our hearts a day that hurt our Pink Family to the core. Questions of Faith and God and the elusive cure rang out via social media almost immediately. The swearing hatred of the monster which took away such a vibrant soul. 

After the dust settled and shock and grief faded (some).... Bridget's own words from her last blog entry hit home in a profund way to so many and re-ignited a fire within us all to, "do her proud" and live life with purpose all the while never forgetting her, her story, her courage, her humble ways and her grace.

"So now here we are. We have made it from Halloween, to Thanksgiving, and now we are celebrating Christmas. (The Big Man bought me a gorgeous diamond ring for Christmas!) Even as we celebrate, my year has, yet again, revolved around cancer. But I'm not complaining. I am thanking you. I thank each and every one of you for getting me here. I'm going to ask now for just one more favor.

It is time for me to ask each of you to let me go. It is time to say goodbye.

Over these past six weeks, my ability to breathe has been compromised. Every breath is a struggle. I cough all night and most days. I am exhausted. My mother and brothers have flown in to help.  I'd like to stop working and go enjoy a nice cold drink with my husband on a beach somewhere. I want some time alone with him. Time without doctors appointments and scans, without work, just the two of us. No PI3K pathways. No trials. No hospitals. Just Bridget and her Big Man.

So thank you. Thank you for fighting with me over these past six years. Thank you for hoping with me. Walking every step of the way alongside me. I couldn't have done this without you. I wouldn't still be here if it weren't for each and every one of you and the dollars you have raised in my name.

Please, don't forget about me"

....... We read those words that December and her last words stuck out and created a mantra... 

We stood proud, yet slightly defeated coming to terms that this courageous, beautiful and YOUNG woman was gone.

We laced up our shoes, donned our pearls, raised money, cried, laughed and stood united waging a war against our foe... Just as she would have wanted.

In 365 days we have remembered Bridget Spence in her incredibly moving speeches, coaching roles, news clips, magazine ads for SGK and in her beautiful wedding dress. We have seen her in pale pink clouds as the sun goes down and we have seen her shining brightly in different hues of pearls worn (I think) at every Komen event this past year. We've seen tribute shirts for staff, we've witnessed teams formed honoring her, we've seen pink flowers with each city name written on them beautifully placed on her grave maker... But mostly we've seen honor. 

We are continuing our promise to her... We aren't forgetting her (or sadly, the countless of other lives lost). Her legacy lives on with every breath we take, every step we take, every dollar raised and every new drug or clinical trial that becomes available thanks in part to us NOT forgetting.

Can we measure the pain over loss? No. What we CAN measure is LOVE. And over the past 365 days I've seen more love spawned from a loss than I can believe... And THAT is actually pretty fantastic and deeply moving. A true testament to Bridget and those like her.

In her departure she left us each our own message to figure out for ourselves... Bridget, unknowingly, created her own special ear worm for all of us... In her "Please don't forget about me" statement... She left it up to us to remember and honor her in our own special ways. Her legacy left behind lives in each of us and those we share her incredible journey with. It is up to us to be her continued voice, which I think we a doing pretty well.

Today I noticed the first rays of the morning sun peeking thru my back yards fence into my garden. Brightly lighting up my one single pink rose blossoming. I snapped a few pictures. After I posted them I gasped. There she was, saying hello and flooding my heart with that familiar pain of loss. But with it came a calm... A sense of enlightenment. Like she was simply saying with that beautiful smile we knew.... "I'm here. It's ok. Carry on carrying on and spread the word".

And we will continue carrying on... And we will NEVER forget.

(Notice the pink angel wings below the rose)

A Pearl's Journey Along the 3 Day...

Friday Morning as I take a deep breath behind the stage of the San Diego 3 Day I clasp a necklace around my neck. Pearls. A delicate string of white worn close to my heart and meaningful and poetic in their own right. I get the nudge and I follow those ceremonial honor flag bearers up the steps and onto the stage. Before me are close to 4000 walkers and crew and all their friends and family... stretching out in hues of pink as far as the eye can see. This year was different though. Not because I was given the honor of carrying the, "My Mother Flag" or even the fact that I was asked to deliver a few words as to why I walk (which when I did speak, my voice cracked at the end of the emotional words as they left my soul via my mouth). This year, this walk... was special.

Just less than a year ago a dear young woman who we all have come to know, respect and love... gave the call out that her flame was flickering and that her time fighting was coming to an end. She asked us to never forget her. In the last 11 months words have been written, anger spewed at how we hate cancer, pearls have been strung and sent to her family, a funeral has been had, tears have fallen and a hole has appeared. Nationwide our song this 3 Day Season rang out that we would never forget Bridget. That this year would be for her. Staff donned shirts in Boston which we all heaved a collective and loving sigh over. On the sleeve cuff, a simple "B" with a pink ribbon. Over the course of the season, walkers and crew alike wore their pearl necklaces or bracelets (Bridget loved pearls and we all made sure she saw us wearing them proudly) and felt connected with her as they took to the streets walking or crewing.

The necklace which I was lovingly grasping just prior to stepping up on stage was given to me by Malinda, my friend who started the Pearl to Bridget project just shortly after Bridget wrote her last blog at Christmas last winter. Side by side, Malinda and I put together as much as we could for the project and in the end the gorgeous collection of pearls were breathtakingly beautiful, just like our dear sweet Bridget. The necklace I was given was a thank you for me helping in the project.

Up until Friday I had not worn it yet. I had not had a reason to put it on (and seeing that I have a toddler running around my house I couldn't see wearing something that special only for something to happen to it). I decided prior to going to San Diego that the walk would be the perfect place to wear the pearls. It started with the pearl project and was so fitting to wear them all 3 days along my emotional journey this year. They were on stage with me, they heard my speech, saw the flag I carried, felt my tears fall upon them, my sweat embraced each pearl like a loving embrace as I took on each new day. (don't worry, I washed them at the end of each day so to as protect their beauty)

Now, any walker or crew who has participated in San Diego is aware of the following: Torrey Pines Hill on Day 1 & Juan Street in Old Town on Day 3. Some curse the hills and decide to sweep or they walk them and you never hear the end of their bitching about them. Well... Torrey Pines can bite me. But... in 2011 only 4 months after my mom died, I conquered Juan Street and vowed that this massive, straight up, oh my hell type of hill would forever be the memorial hill to my mother. That year I took out the small bag of my moms ashes and shared with her a moment that was so raw and full of emotion that I told myself, if nothing else... I will always conquer Juan Street for my mom... And I did.

This year I looked forward to it...I almost craved Juan Street. After the rough year I had, I absolutely needed some form of accomplishment which would re-connect me with my mom again. So, with two of my teammates by my side... and chips and salsa now in my gut... I looked up at the hill in-front of me, leading (like what it seemed) straight up into the heavens themselves. With my moms small breast cancer ribbon urn in my camelbak... I shuffled one foot in-front of the other... until I reached the main summit of the hill. Before me was a vista overlooking seaworld and the outlining communities off in the distance we had just walked all morning. I had my friend take Mom out of my pack for me as I caught my breath.

I held mom out and showed her the most beautiful scene as swarms of red faced huffing and puffing walkers made their way past us. I openly cried. I shook all the way down to my soul. I had made it. I had conquered the hill again with and for my mom. It had been 2 years since I was able to do that last and I felt a sudden flush of emotions hit me like a truck. In the same breath though, there was a much needed release which lifted off my shoulders and chest and I was able to feel lighter. On we go around the bend up the second part of Juan Street which wasnt as bad, but still... ANY hill after that first one and you either want a ski lift to carry your ass or a cold bottle of beer to be there at the top as reward.

What I found at the crest of the second part of the hill was far more rewarding than I would have ever imagined. Sitting on the concrete steps of her beautiful Craftsman Style home was a raven haired woman clutching her hands over her mouth and sobbing... her name was Ingrid. On her steps closest to the street was a cardboard sign that read, "I survived & Keep fighting because you walked! Ingrid, Mother of 3... Thank You". Strewn all over the sign were pink rubber bracelets that other walkers had left in honor of her and in support of her. Pink Bead necklaces hung from her posts, flowers dropped onto the sign. All were silent ways that as we passed by... we were supporting her. I stopped dead in my tracks. Something grabbed a hold of me and pushed me off course to go sit with her and learn of her story.

I sat with Ingrid and saw her red swollen eyes. She had been there a while. Witnessing thousands of people walk by her front doorstep. She was overcome with emotions. I came up to her and immediately hugged her without saying a word. The hug I received back, from this complete stranger was worth its weight in gold. I honestly felt her heart as she shook in my embrace. When we were done our hug, I asked my friend Shannon who had just conquered Juan Street with me, to come help me with something.

(Shannon helping me)

I sat back down on the step with Ingrid. Clutching my pearl necklace in both my hands.

I listened to Ingrid tell me her story... diagnosed at 37. And now 40 years old, mother of 3. Surviving because the clinical trials she was in saved her life. Those clinical trials which were through the Susan G. Komen Foundation. Those same exact trials that helped give Bridget a few extra years to be able to get married, buy a house and live some of her days with her husband. She cried. I listened.

I then told her of Bridget's story. How young she was when diagnosed and how she passed in April. How my team (and so many others) were walking this season in her memory. Ingrid shook visibly as I spoke. And in a moment of love and grace I extended my hands and put my very precious pearl necklace into her hands. I said, "These belong with you. You need them more than I do. You wear them fondly and know that there are thousands of us standing beside you every step of the way supporting you. You wear them when you have rough day or when you need to smile or god forbid if your cancer should return. Just know that Bridget will be with you smiling down upon you and that we all... every single one of us will remember you sitting here. We fight for you, we walk for you and even though you don't know us... we will always care and be here for you".

(Me holding my pearls telling Bridget's Story)

(Ingrid now holding the pearls)

She clutched the necklace and we embraced though our tears. I stood up and shook her teenage sons hand as he thanked me and I made my way back to the sidewalk to join my two team mates who just realized what had transpired. The pearl necklaces journey started with the pearl project when Bridget asked us to never forget her and after 50 miles walking with me and up Juan Street the journey now moves along with Ingrid and her days and hopefully years ahead.

Now if my cluster of emotions leading up to that point were not enough to be mind blowing... We then left Ingrid's house and start our sweet decline down the street. Less than one block away we are greeted by some cute kids passing out candy to the walkers as they pass. Now, after the hill I took and the toll which was taken on my body and soul... I reach out to take a piece of sweetness from the child in-front of me. When I looked at the piece I grabbed, I about fainted. I hadn't seen one in 3 years and hadn't eaten one in at least 6 years. It was a Heath bar.... and that was my mom's all time most beloved candy bar. I instantly got goosebumps. It was a sign from my mom saying... "I was with you up the hill, thank you for showing me the pretty view... but here is a reward for the kindness and love that you just showed that complete stranger who needed your hug and your heart more than you realize. I am with you always and I am proud". 

My heart swelled. It was a defining moment that I will always look back upon and be proud of. Something drew me to this woman. And it was one of the most touching 3Day moments I've had over the last 11 years.

Those pearls have such a story already... and now I know that Ingrid will have her own story to tell of how one woman sat with her for a moment and shared a story and a hug. How life can change in the blink of an eye. How, like Bridget and her message, one person can make a difference in the lives of others. I'd like to think that the moment she and I shared was pushed forward by my mom and by Bridget. That they were the "force" that made me veer off course and sit with Ingrid. The message was received and I felt honored to have been the vessel by which they used to give this woman hope and to let her know that there is a huge community rallying behind her every step of the way.

I pray those pearls see many happy moments... Christmas Eve's and Graduations & Weddings of her children. I hope they pass along happy thoughts and protect this beautiful woman as her journey continues.

This.... is why I walk.

On Pink Wings...

Life is a random set of circumstances, Everything happens for a reason, God never gives you more than you can handle.

Really? 

I refuse to believe any of that poppycock.

Life is given to us... we are created to live. And, "To Live" (to me) means to live a long full happy life, surrounded by love and family and life lessons. To grow old (maybe not so gracefully) with the love of your life. To experience life and have a full heart, until you are old and gray and need help tying your shoelaces like you did when you were a child. Looking into the face of the first person you loved (your mom or dad) while they showed you how to chase the Bunny rabbit around the tree and back into his hole. Now you are old and wrinkled and can't for the life of you remember where your teeth are and you are staring at the face of your life long love (your husband or wife) as they gently tie your shoes for you. To me, that is how we should live.

Some people will never see that. Some people are interrupted from that fairy tale of normalcy. Some hear three words that will change the course of their lives, forever.

"You have cancer"

Fuck.

I have seen it, lived it, breathed it twice, witnessed it first hand and from afar. I have seen the destruction left behind in its wake. I have felt and tasted more salty tears than I care to remember.

There are some people who are given that diagnosis and learn from it. And live what little life they have left, to the absolute fullest. becoming immersed in a "culture" of know-how and how-to's... living each day as if it were the last. Grabbing it by the horns with gusto and saying, "Look at me... I have cancer and I'm Alive!" That to me is Bridget Spence. She radiates LIFE.

Diagnosed at the incredibly young age of 21, just after her college graduation. Over the last 8 years she has been in clinical trials which have given her time. Time to find love, experience life, buy a house, travel and time to give others a fighting chance. Her time has been spent not only fighting and living.... but Fighting for others. Becoming an ambassador for the Susan G Komen Foundation. Speaking in public forums, colleges, high schools, at Breast Cancer events and through her incredibly touching blogs.
http://mybiggirlpants.blogspot.com/

She was a coach for the 3 Day (How I met her), and a walker. Proudly wearing her Pink shirt and pearls at closing.

Bridget has been a Mentor to so many along the way. Friends, neighbors, co-workers, 3 Day participants and her family who no doubt have been through hell and back. There are people who never met this incredible young woman who were INSPIRED... That is what living is. To give back to others selflessly and with your whole heart. No matter how scared you may be of what lies ahead. None of us have the answers to life, and we ALL know that life isn't fair... nor is it easy.

Am I a close personal friend of this woman? No. Have I held her hand, shared in a glass of wine or know her favorite flavor of ice cream? Absolutely not. But... I was given several opportunities to talk to her over the phone when she was a coach and I have followed her blogs religiously, and I can tell you this... her charismatic boisterous nature was contagious! You would never had known she was sick. You could quite literally FEEL and HEAR her smile through the phone. She was helpful, insightful and ready to go the extra mile for you. Always...

Within the last 36 hours, things have taken a sad turn, as we knew they one day would. The heart breaking reality sinks in like a dense fog and makes our thoughts hazy. How do we say goodbye to someone who has been so full of grace, so full of hope and always there to help... with a smile. That big beautiful, amazing, larger than life, CREST commercial, dazzling white, here I am... Smile. I know so many will miss that smile. That smile held a lot of wisdom, courage, sadness, hope, courage and LOVE which all her 28 teeth could muster. We are all blessed to have seen it, weather in person or in pictures or videos.

Saying goodbye is never easy... no matter how well you know someone. You can offer the generalized, "I'm sorry for your loss and my prayers are with you and your family", but for some reason (to me) that just is not adequate enough for such a beautiful soul.

When the world is graced with a presence as rare and beautiful (and young) as Bridget Spence and we feel her warmth and determination... only to have it taken away, it leaves a void that is irreplaceable. Why is she the one being taken? Why not some asshat in prison who did something horrible? The way the world works sometimes leaves us all scratching our heads and simply asking, "WHY". Bridget is one of the "good ones". Bridget has left her incredible mark on this world, and let's face it - none of us will EVER look at pearls the same way ever again.

The Pink wings which will find themselves lifting our loved one up and out of this world will be grand. They will have variegated hues of the most beautiful pinks and peaches, creams and magenta's.... glittering with flecks of silver and gold. They will be as soft as cashmere and wisps of cotton candy. The trail of rose petal, hyacinth and honey scent will linger as she soars to the heavens. No longer in pain, no longer sick. Free from the demons that cancer brings. She will be draped in strands of her beloved pearls... all which were sent to her by the masses of people, some who knew her intimately, some who never heard of her until word spread of a simple pearl project in her honor. Each one representing a soul that she somehow touched.

That is my goodbye to Bridget. It is seeing her in my heart and minds eye carrying all of us with her so she can watch over each and every one of us. He legacy carrying on in Heaven. She will share in these stories with loved ones who have gone before her. And perhaps give each one of them a pearl. Like say... to our family members or loved ones. I envision her with pink sunlight in her full luxurious long hair... as she sits on a bench of clouds... hand outstretched to my mom, handing her one of the pearls I sent for that string. Holding my moms hand in complete silence. Nothing need be said.

So I will take a deep breath and sure... I will cry. I will mourn. We all will. I will see the pearl like colors in the evening skies and smile knowing that SHE is up there, smiling down upon us and watching us all carry on her message. Hoping we all can have the same grace and courage, strength and poise, love and light that she shared with us all.

One thing is for certain. She was too young to go through the battlefields of war. She was never alone though.

Thank you for touching my life. Thank you for making a difference. Thank you for showing us what courage and grace was all about. We will continue your fight here on earth, we will carry on your message...

and we will NEVER forget you.

Ever.

God Speed Bridget

Timelines & Deadlines...

In this day and age we seriously are lacking in the use of our imaginations, and what"s worse, our children are that way too... if not more so. With so much technology, it is super simplistic in our hectic lives that we are on auto pilot and throw our toddlers in front of the TV to be utilized as our baby sitter for the short time being that we need so that we can actually accomplish something mundane as to start a load of laundry, do some dishes, or even go to the bathroom. Sadly though, I know more and more of us are sitting on iPads, smartphones or catching up on at least 1 DVR's season of ANYTHING we can to feel like we know whats goin "on in the world"... really?.... REALLY??



(facepalm)

ok... so I have been guilty of this too. You are completely full of shit if you say that you haven't done this (Or something pretty darn similar).

In life there seem to be an awful lot of rules. When did we become so selfish and immersed in technology and the "fads"... and dismiss the world around us. Granted... I am a Facebook junkie and I know I spend a lot of time on it. I feel like I am Auto Recording "Life" as it unfolds for a few reasons. None of you except my very best friend and sister, Michele, know that my Mother's parents suffered from Dementia and Alzheimer's. Even though it was my Grandma who went into a nursing home first, it turned out that it was my very proud and very German Grandpa Walter who suffered deeper and closeted it very well while he continued to live at home and go about "Life" as he thought that reality entailed. (Which included trying to break out my Grandma from the Nursing home and bring her back home) I kid to my husband about it all the time... I have that "gene". Be gentle with my mind and if I re-tell a story for the hundredth time, or forget that I have already asked you a question and forgotten the answer. I know that one day I will suffer the same fate as my Grandparents. For years it has already been happening and a lot of it I know is Psychological which I am "blanking on" intentionally as a defense mechanism within my own mind to keep myself from facing certain things which are too painful like... the 2 rapes I have endured. One from someone I knew and the other that bad scenario in a dark parking lot outside a crowded mall and no one did anything about my cries for help. Yeah... a LOT of that I black out and I am just now able to get thru a night without a nightmare. The breast cancer diagnosis of my Mother in 1997, only a month after we buried both my Grandparents who passed from Alzheimer's. The diagnosis again of the fatally aggressive Ovarian Cancer while I was 3 months pregnant. And then her death 2 weeks prior to Chase being born. There are all parts of those events in my life that I have blanked out on intentionally in order to replace it with, "In the Now" memories. Why hold onto the bad shit and harp on it... let it go. The only problem with blocking out the bad is... when there is more of it than "Good" in your life... you miss out on a litany of events like clubbing with your best friend, studying for exams, beach-side moments as a family during the summer, cross country drives at Christmas to the Grandparents house. I have lost a lot of those moments in my life and it is very hard to remember certain things. So yes... back to task here, I am very active on a social networking website documenting LIFE with my son, my husband, the death of my mother, the dealings with loss and hating cancer and all it has destroyed. I use Facebook as a real life Timeline (as everyone still struggles with the Timeline we just switched over to on that site). I know that I won't remember what happened... I fear if I don't document life... I will forget about it... and I want to live to my fullest and enjoy those moments with my son. This is one of the few times I am privileged to be living in this time of technology so that I CAN look back when I need to remember. 

I still am struggling with the passing of my mother and the last year has been very eye opening to say the least. It is still confusing as hell and there are still so many questions left unanswered, but I deal with those emotions as they happen and try to go easy on myself and remind myself that it is a process.... one that no one processes the same way. In this hectic life we live and hurry thru... when did we place a deadline on mourning? A few of my friends recently have gone thru traumatic losses of loved ones leaving them too soon, or tragically taken in accidents. We all handle the stresses of loss and the hole it leaves in different ways. Some clam up, shut down and are withdrawn. Some fall into deep depressions. Some laugh and learn and try to move on. Then there are the masses who in many ways are your savior and downfall in the same breath. (don't take that wrong)

There are friends and family who say, "We are here for you, just call if you need anything" and when you call they flake or don't know how to handle being around you anymore cause you have "changed" (in the sense that you are withdrawn and who knows what to say to someone who is grieving) . But in the same breath out of nowhere comes a card, an email, a simple text that inquires how you are doing even if a good chunk of a year has gone by but wants to check in on your mental health and ask. Cause don't get me wrong... we all have done it... we have offered, been there, offered condolences and then fade in the background cause we feel too much time has passed to bring up the "sad days" and fear that if we do bring them up, it opens us up to "feelings". When did we put such an emphasis on the "Deadline" for mourning being over? 

I hope that people know the difference between caring and being human... and emoting real feelings and giving of your soul as compared to finding a "babysitter" cause we are too busy to handle "Life" as it comes to us... raw and full of hurt and pain... love and light. I don't want to be the one who makes you feel uncomfortable in asking me things... laughing with me is my goal... learning more about humanity while keeping in touch with who you are meant to be. I am still learning that lesson and I change all the time... yet one thing remains constant as I learn... Standing up for myself is important... standing BY someone is even more important. I am lucky enough to have some pretty amazing people who genuinely stand by my side. 

Life is short... feelings and love are free... share them.

I have lessened the TV time on our house and am more involved with Chase... especially now that he is more mobile the playtime is all over the place in our house and we just don't sit still very much. Lots of stories being told and imaginations used... lots of walks outside and exploration around this big world for Chase is eye opening to me too... reminding me to slow down and LIVE. (And if the dishes sit dirty in the sink for 12 hours... so be it. Get to living people!!)

I hope that my life through my posts... my humor... my pictures... I hope they make you smile and artistically give you an eye into my life. I document for me as much as I do for you... in the hopes that I can look back over them in a few years and find myself grinning. Sometimes what I post isn't pretty, life can get that way though... right? I'll try to keep it real... but don't think I won't still post some humor. It's who I am.

A Lifetime Ago...

Funny... while growing up (and by growing up, I mean in the most literal sense... not like that of a child into an adult... but that of a person finding out their truest identities and who they want to really be.) I found myself to become resilient and compassionate. A trait many people have seen that side of, yet I think nothing of it.

Until now.

A Lifetime ago I remember happier more carefree days of summers in my side yard playing in the creek and then jumping into the pool. Catching fireflies in the evening, play kick the can and eat cole slaw chilled to perfection with a big slice of cool firm and juicy watermelon, you know the kind... the one where the sweet burst of Summertime Bliss was served on the rind and was so sweet that every time you smell the perfect one, your mouth waters. Summer camp, Softball, 4th of July and hanging out with friends. We were told to be home when it gets dark or when the street lights came on. We were told to, "Go outside.... use your imagination..." ~ And we did.

My backyard was my haven. My fortress, my playground, my exploration filled days and mystery solving curious nature were fed deep in those woods.  That was a part of me back in time where I would skin my knee, climb a tree, put my barbie in a metal mailbox with a cherry bomb and relish in the bang and giggle at my mischief... (really?? ok, so I was a bit of a trouble maker.... who hasn't done one really foolish thing as a child (or adult) but looked back and reference that story throughout your life... cause it meant something "innocent" to you as a child... naive and curious).

But that was a lifetime ago...

Other references that get brought up throughout this fun ride called life... People who have come and gone, be it grandparents, a friend, a pet, a boyfriend or your own mother. No matter how the "loss" happened... death, ran away (pet or boyfriend) or a greedy selfish behemoth of a nemesis like cancer... of ANY kind, that you have to, process, mourn (in whatever way "YOU" feel most comfortable and at your own rate.. because lets be realistic, we are all different and don't know how we will handle things until we go through them) and then try to continue on with, LIFE.

Some of the aforementioned were decades ago, while some are still present.

6 months ago today. Has it really been half a YEAR? That doesn't quite compute to me. Granted, we made the best with the time we had. Although I couldn't be there as often as I wanted...

In a way, that feels like yesterday. Hearing the phone ring and being jarred out of bed because I just knew somehow this was the call. And I was right.

But a Lifetime Ago, I started on a new journey... that of Motherhood. I would soon come to realize that the most challenging of days were ahead of me. How can one go through what is supposed to be the most beautiful time of my life... one that I should treasure and learn from, to the harsh reality that death is knocking at the door and it is asking for your own mother.

A lifetime ago I grew up. But had to recently do it again. Throughout it all I opened up to the world and began blogging or making status updates on Facebook as a way to process. I wasn't going to counselling, my family lived far away and those I considered family anyway were here, with me, following me and giving me advice. Some of it taken, some of it thought deeply about and some of it laughed at... but in a good way. I never really knew that some of what I was going through was "relate-able" to others.

Writing things down and sharing was a way for me to get thoughts outta my head so I could go on the next day without the fear of going nuts cause I was dealing with two major life events at once. It seemed like a Lifetime Ago that I was flying back East to be with my Mom when we found out she had Cancer almost a YEAR to today's date and hearing the word "terminal"... But I was 3 months pregnant...

A year... really? Ugh

I have realized that "time" as we know it... really truly is short. How cliche huh?

Yet 24 weeks ago that cliche came to mean so much more. Since life is short... I have been relishing every moment with my son Chase. Someone whom every day amazes me and makes me smile. Someone who teaches me even more patience... someone who teaches me that love is something earned cause when you feel the real thing... there is no other feeling like it in the world.

A lifetime ago I dreamed of being a mother... and now it came true. There is a part of me that is scared to death. "Am I doing it right?"  "Am I any good?"  "What the hell just happened?"
No longer do I have the privilege to call up my mom and ask her these "Mother/Daughter" type of questions.
But don't you for one minute think that has stopped me from asking her anyway... here, in the moment, when I feel I need help. I ask her all the time.

Recently she answered. In the form of a heart left behind on my windshield encircled in a tear.

Yep, that just happened. And I knew... she was watching and was proud.

Since then, I have felt more "relief" and can start getting back to my current "Lifetime".

There are many people who have come into my life for certain reasons, and no matter if we speak everyday or once in a blue moon... I appreciate you and thank you for being a rock for me to rest upon while facing "Life".

I am truly humbled by the support. I will continue to pay that support forward to others so that when Chase grows up... he can tell stories of his mother from a lifetime ago to his own children.

A Daughters Final Words...

In my healing process since the death of my mother, I have neglected getting things off my chest in the form of writing. Something I have been recently told I do very well. Yet, in true Alisen fashion - I simply shrug it off as nothing I do (in my own mind) is good enough for the praise of others... I mean really... I am who I am, I do what I do, I write and say as I please. If you like me for it - awesome... (big smile) if you don't - eh.. who needs ya. What I do and who I am is just me.. simple me. Nothing that special.

Anyway...

I wanted to share with you the eulogy that I wrote for my mom. For those of you who were there and heard my brothers eulogy - you will notice a common theme... Jokes and laughter, card playing and the love of family....

In many ways - I wish for a "Do Over" to be able to have more moments with my mom. But I know I did what I could... in many ways I did what was nearly impossible. I know I was there for her in the days she needed me the most and I know that she would be proud of the memorial service which we had for her in PA as well as the get together of cousins back in her small home town in IL prior to her internment (which was the hardest thing I have ever faced in my entire life).

Maybe in my final goodbye to my mother - I was able to articulate into words that made sense... just some of the wonderful things about my mom and how I saw her. If not, know this... although we had our moments (and who doesn't) and she could be as stubborn as a mule... (gee where do I get it from) I loved her with all my heart. I respected her more in my later years as I found myself maturing... sharing with her in life's everyday adventures or pleasures. Those were the things that made her smile... "How was you lunch Alisen? What did you have? What are you making for dinner?" (She loved food... lol)

Maybe I was meant to go through this tragedy for others to publicly witness so that they could draw upon my strength to gain wisdom or hope for themselves... who knows.

Anyway - these are my words - no matter how difficult life is with family... no matter how many petty bullshit differences you may have of the he said she said crap in your life... no matter what dysfunctional "issues" you face... say your peace. Grow up and move on. Life as we all know it to be... really is short and a LOT can happen in even a short year. This time last year? I was helping my mom unpack in her new home. Now, I have to face going back to DE to pack THAT place back up and put her things in storage and sell the house.

Here is the Eulogy.

We wanted to thank you all for being here in support of our family as we celebrate the life of our mother Pam.

The life of party, wasn’t she? There truly wasn’t a day that I can remember her not smiling or joking about something.  Always trying to see and experience the lighter side of life. It didn’t matter if it was family night playing Yahtzee, Monopoly or a game of hearts and she caught someone cheating…. Or if it was just prior to settling on the sale of a house and finding out the termite inspection came back bad… Pam always had that signature smile on her face. The one that welcomes you, embraces you and makes you feel invited… makes you feel like you have been a life long friend. For many of you here today that truly was the case… You have been lifelong friends or associates of our mother. One thing is for sure, we will all miss that smile.

When asked about my mother’s life, I can sit back and honestly say that much of the reason she always had the smile on her face was because she was comfortable in her own skin. A phrase I heard my mother use on many occasions.  It didn’t matter where she was, what she was doing, who she was with or what she was wearing… she knew that she was always putting her best foot forward without having to try to be something she wasn’t. She was very accepting of others and learned just as much as she taught. She had a sharp, quick witted sense of humor even up til her last few days. The Friday prior to her passing she and I were discussing arrangements she wanted for her funeral and in that oh so familiar Pam tone she made the comment of, “Nothing like a woman to plan a party”. That was her humor which you either liked or you didn’t. But she was comfortable with it and it was a big part of her.

The measurements of a successful life are broken down into a few small components.  Love with all your heart, Laugh as much as you can and be honest with those around you. My mom lived by all of these.

She had the strongest and most giving heart of anyone I have ever known. Her compassion and generosity allowed her to do for others what she could without being asked. She was a caring friend who was an excellent ear or a concerned neighbor who voiced her opinion when asked for advice. Bottom line, she was there for you when you called upon her.

I believe that all of the aforementioned were the main reasons she felt so at home at the Devon Horse Show. She was surrounded by similar people who had the same values. Besides her children, her life at Devon was by far one of the most cherished and beloved accomplishments in her life. Every year, for three decades, there was an electric energy in our home around that magical Devon Week. She loved volunteering on the grounds knowing and taking pride in the fact that she was helping her community. It was the happiest I ever saw her.

Pam wouldn’t be Pam if we didn’t mention her tenacity, aggression and straightforwardness. She saw something she wanted and she made up her mind that she would do what it took to obtain it. Weather it was a tangible item she was after or a goal she set up for herself… she worked hard to get it.  Growing up I witnessed this at her years at Devon, within her successful real estate career and most recently facing cancer… twice. As with any difficult situation that comes knocking at our door – we can choose to either ignore the knocking or open the door. When you open the door, you give yourself the chance to fight. Mom chose to fight. She always did. She fought for her children, she fought for her successes, she fought for life.

As we enter into Autumn and we see the leaves changing from green to all those vibrant shades of orange, red and yellow… I remind myself that as with life, seasons change. You can hold onto the past season and remember it fondly for the days it gave you… the warm embrace of a fire as it snows outside, the bright wonderful rays of sunshine on your face, and the life renewed each spring.

As we remember my mother and think about her life, today and every day thereafter… I will choose to open the door… I will walk outside, take a deep breath and relish the vibrant colors in front of me… 

95 Hours of Fog

Imagine living in a world where as soon as you wake up and look out your window... all you can see is dense fog... Like living in Maine in some quaint harbor fishing village. Trying to see through the early morning haze when the only people awake are those fishermen at 5am about ready to depart the docks. You trip over your feet it is so foggy.

Ever since I got the call at 5:58am on Monday July 25th and the minutes thereafter - I have been standing in that dense fog. I can't see, I don't know which direction to go (or which direction is up), and I am surely tripping over my feet. The fog is so thick that I can feel the moisture as I breathe in... or maybe those are just the tears falling into my mouth...

The thing about fog - especially when it is that dense... it can be kind of a blanket. It is thicker then, "regular" air... it almost wraps around you and holds you tight. Now, that may be comforting... it may be constricting... to me - I don't know what it is other than fucking annoying. I don't want to be held. I don't want to be smothered. Or do I? I guess that is why they call it fog. It clouds your vision.

Therefore - not knowing what I want... or which direction to go... I speak to the local Old Salt on the dock. He is wrapping netting and securing his gear. he tells me that in time - the fog lifts... that as the dawn of each day gets warmer and warmer, it gets clearer. The gulls will come in and squawk and will distract you and before you know it - the heavy blanket around you and the blurry vision goes away. He continues to tell me that even after the dense fog lifts... that my skin will still be moist and it will take me a bit to dry out.

My mind rushes to the song by Jordin Sparks... No Air:
"Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air"
"Can't live, can't breathe with no air"
"That's how I feel whenever you ain't there"
"There's no air, no air"
"Got me out here in the water so deep"
"Tell me how you gonna be without me"
"If you aint here, I just can't breathe"
"There's no air.... no air"

I must have been caught in thought forever - I don't blink for what seems like an hour... I look up and the Old Salt is under way heading out past the breakwaters with a cloud of gulls flying over his boat.

Fog.... amazing how it just clouds everything. Just on the other side of it - the unknown. The unknown doesn't scare me as it does for most people. I embrace it actually... it was how I was raised. It is the wait to get to the other side to find out what the answers are. I have a bit of an impatience issue it seems. Again - it was how I was raised. I only want to be kept in the loop - to know what steps are being taken. But the fog gets in the way and I can't see.

The sickness, sorrow and angst that consumed my mother in the last few months has been on my mind and has had me walking around like a zombie. I blockaded myself off from the world and hid behind that fog. Maybe that is why Old Salt's are viewed as cranky - they just need time to themselves to heal from a bad days worth of fishing.

Yet somewhere - out in the distance - along the breakwaters - there is hope. A beacon of light that shines for all the mariners to see... it gives them a path to follow for their return trip. Although it is battered and beaten from the weather... it stands firm and proud. It has been there forever and will continue to stand to guide those who need it.

I am hoping my fog lifts soon... I am hoping that time will heal and my skin will dry off. I will look up to the sky and look at the gulls and tell them.... as long as you don't shit on me... I'll be ok.