My Umbrella is Gone

It has been 264 days since my mother took her last breath beside me. It's been 264 days since I have been able to look at her, touch her, talk to her, smell her, and hold her hand.

My mom's last journey was much like that of my dad's. Only hers was about 20 years too soon. Mom was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung c (I refer to it as this because I refuse to say the word or acknowledge its existence) in April 2021. Not even a year later, she was gone. 

The last 9 months have been nothing short of terrifying and just HARD. As most that know me understand, my mom and I had an exceptionally close relationship. Both Realtors, we often worked together through the years and where you would see one, the other was not far behind; maybe even dressed in the same outfit, unplanned of course. At home, well, until my dad died, it was pretty much the same. She was always my favorite place to be. Anywhere she was. Living without her is surreal and not something I was prepared to do 9 months ago or 20 years from now. 

Around the time that dad first got diagnosed with Dementia around 2010, I saw a change start in my mom. She was always in "go" mode. Never even slowed down. To others she was happy and always bringing sunshine, but to me, I knew what was inside. She couldn't stop or she would FEEL. She wasn't about to do that. She was hasty, she got uncomfortable sitting still, and she was sad. Very, very sad and lonely. It was so palpable. I wanted to take it all away. To watch my Pollyanna mama change so much from the mama I had growing up was a most humbling experience. It illustrated just how intensely we love our partners and how the memories we build with them are permanently etched in our hearts and our brains, until the end of time. I could look across the room at my mom no matter where we were or what we were doing and still see sadness, even when she was laughing. She confided in me, yes, but she also tried to "save" me. I guess as a mother myself, I can see the reason for her efforts. We don't like to show our weaknesses, and we want our children to know we are forever ok. After she died, I found mom's journal. It was a glimpse into the life that she lived once her partner had gone on and she wrote that she often wondered what the point of her existence was without him. She had the heaviest of hearts and I wish I could've fixed it. I've spent my entire life marveling at her and my dads relationship. They were magnets. Their energy, especially together, was unmatched. I never knew this existed elsewhere until I married Justin. Becoming one with someone is rare and you are never the same. My dad's death changed my mom's whole being.

I remember the day. April 26 2021. A text from mom "we are on our way to you" after her long awaited doctor appointment. She came and sat on a bar stool at my kitchen counter and said matter-of-factly "Welp! It's stage 4 lung c and I'm going to fight like Hell." It's strange to say out loud that my intuition whispered to me quietly "No she won't. Prepare yourself." I had no idea what that meant at the time, but I sobbed uncontrollably. Drew said she had never heard sounds like that come from me. Now I don't mean that she didn't want to fight at first, but fear took over and she had a lot of people in her ear giving her all the wrong information. Information she would've never listened to when I was growing up. For my whole life, she has taught me to be natural and always ask questions. I don't take medications, not even Tylenol, I breastfed my babies, we don't vaccinate, we don't say the word "sick" when we don't feel good. Who do you think taught me this way of life and thinking? Mom took me to my first chiropractor when I was 9. And to this day, we only see chiropractors and load up on supplements, sunshine, and fresh air. For fevers we do Calcium Lactate and skin to skin. Yea that kind of natural, I mean 100% natural ... I wouldn't touch chemo with someone else's 10 foot pole. My MOTHER taught me that. Her best friend was as natural as they come .. it's just how I was raised. She even taught me how to manifest positivity at the age of 7. She was WAY ahead of her time. After we found out what she was battling, I begged her to seek natural treatment. Well of course she would do that, right? It's what she taught me. We got her RSO, I took her to Dr Gill and got her huge amounts of supplements and hope, and I made acupuncture and chiropractor appointments. This was a good start, now let's drastically change your diet. Nope. She wouldn't change a thing. I was so angry. 

Not only do I disagree with destroying your WHOLE body, bad AND good cells, but I knew she couldn't handle the effects of chemo. Mom was strong yes, but was never a good patient. I remember times when the stomach flu had her begging for God's mercy and the woman wasn't even Religious. She was simply NOT a good under the weather person. After doing exhausting amounts of research on this newly and hastily concocted controversial jab and my husband getting calls at his work about its effects daily, I begged her not to get that either. On repeat .... "HEALING and WELLNESS do not come from toxic chemicals. Ever." Ultimately, these two things no doubt stole my mom from myself, my husband, and my girls way too soon. Not looking for anyone else's opinion, I think what I think. I know what I know.

So imagine my surprise when she decided to go away from us for 4 long months. Imagine my surprise when I didn't talk to her for weeks at a time and other people were answering my texts to her. Imagine my surprise when she decided to go a completely different route than she taught me. Ok fine, her journey. But I knew it was over. I just absolutely knew. And honestly, since we lost my dad, I'm convinced her will to live was diminished, confirmed even more when I read her journal.

Mom came home from being out of town the end of October 2021. Drew couldn't handle her excitement. After all, she had never been away from her for longer than a week's time. She went into the airport to walk her out while I waited in the car. When I finally saw mom and hugged her tiny little body, it was the hardest I'd cried since my dad died. I couldn't catch my breath. What the HELL would I do when these hugs were gone? My sweet mama. Over the next couple months, we tried to laugh a lot and we chatted for hours at a time about anything and everything besides c. She went to acupuncture, she went back to Dr Gill and this time she was ready to do what he told her to do. I know him well enough to know what his eyes said .... no actual hope, it was too late. But he wanted her to experience life without haze in her last weeks/months. "Go out with dignity" as he would tell her straight to her face. Have you ever witnessed a trusted doctor cry with and hug your ailing mom? It's quite a thing to see. She took her supplements faithfully. She didn't want to do chemo anymore, but she did it one more time, praying for a miracle that  we both knew wouldn't come. I kept repeating to her "HEALING and WELLNESS do not come from toxic chemicals. Ever." She was tired.  

Mid December, mom and I went Christmas shopping at Barnes & Noble, alone. She was in good spirits and thoughtfully picked out stocking stuffers for the girls. We got Starbucks, her a Cinnamon Dolce Latte with an extra pump of cinnamon, me a Caramel Macchiato. I can hear her ordering. We drove separately and on the way out, she asked me to stop at her car. I sat down next to her and as always, I could see it in her eyes. She took my hands and told me the cancer had spread to her liver and to her bones. I didn't cry and neither did she. She said she wasn't afraid. We lost my brother in law Mark at the beginning of December. That was devastating. And since they both had c, I knew she was pondering her own mortality. I remember making a mental note of the winter hat she was wearing and the gloves sitting on her lap, her eyes and the blond hairs peeking out from under her furry brim. Her pink heart keychain from Sami hanging from the ignition. I felt it in my bones that this would be the last time I was a passenger in her car. What an odd thought. I hugged her, said see you soon, and shut the door. The cold air hit me like a freight train; I remember it taking my breath away. Or maybe it was the news I just heard. Either way, I got in my car 3 spots away from mom's as she drove away. The second her brake lights were out of sight, I let loose. I cried like a baby. Hysterically. I think I screamed obscenities, I'm sure of it. And I felt like I was in a tunnel. A really long, dark tunnel. Unbeknownst to me, there were two ladies facing me in their car staring at me out of their windshield. They got out, knocked on my window and asked me if I needed a hug. Talk about divine intervention. It was unexpected and just freakin BIZARRE. But I took the hug because I needed it. I really, really needed it.

Over the next couple weeks, mom's blank stares became more frequent as I believe she was preparing herself. We spent Christmas together at our house. She ended up sleeping half the day in Drew's bed and we drove her home in her own car. She needed one more Holiday, one more family gathering. So she got that, and from then on, it was her way.

We had schedules of when one of us would spend the night, we had endless medications lined up, a notebook of random questions we thought to ask and times she may have eaten, who gave what meds, meals delivered, doctors appointments, puzzles on the table. Eerily reminiscent of October 2015. How could this even be? Disbelief plagued my every thought along with the pull of "I can't handle this" and the push of "I WILL do this." The girls drew her brightly colored pictures and we listened to ocean waves on YouTube, Enya, and watched Steel Magnolias.

Near the end of January, my mom and I were sitting on her couch, the sun reflecting on the water outside, dancing on her rug and the tick of a nearby clock. Was that always that loud? It was warm and it was quiet. She was draped in her gray knitted blanket that Lori got her. She told me she wanted me to call in Hospice. She told me she was done. Her piercing blue eyes told me she was done. She told me she wasn't afraid. But I was. I was frozen and I felt like a 6 year old, helpless child. I swallowed. My first question to her (selfishly) was "Mom, how am I going to live without your voice?" Because you see, her voice has always been my safe place. She reached over and patted my leg, didn't skip a beat, and said "Do you really think you'll ever actually live without my voice?" Then she gave me a demand ... that I better keep the plant alive from my dad's funeral we were staring at or they would both haunt me. We chuckled because I have even killed a cactus. Green thumb, not so much. Seriously. But to this day, that damn plant is still alive and kickin. And she was right, I hear her voice every single day. 

I called Lori over and she helped me call Hospice. They came that afternoon. 

The next few days were filled with mom giving me instructions of what to do, step by step. She wanted her car sold and the check deposited, she wanted her credit cards paid off, she wanted her will written and notarized. She went through her jewelry box with Drew and Alex and she taught me how to open her finicky safe. She told me where random things from long ago were hidden and we had really hearty laughs about some of the things I found. I remember walking into her closet and panicking because the smell of her has always been one of the most comforting things to me since childhood. How would I remember it? Drew and I would stand there with a bunch of her shirts hanging in our faces with our eyes closed, just breathing them in. Then we would either laugh at ourselves or cry, but either way, unforgettable moments trying to hold onto what we knew was slipping away. Giki, Mama, it was an overwhelming feeling that's hard to describe. 

Mid January to February is a blur of Eileen and I switching nights to spend with her, coordinating schedules, friends and family visiting, an unforgettable conversation between my mom and Chris and Andrew. They both sat with her and told her what she meant to them. That they were better for knowing her. She brought joy to their household when there was none so many years ago. They laughed together. And they cried. Hard. I realized I had never seen my brothers cry besides at my dad's funeral. It was genuine. They loved her very much and they were hurting. There was mindless chatter, the coffee pot in constant use, Hospice coming in and taking vitals and giving us instructions and supplies. Laughter. Memories. Tears. Morphine vials. Tears. And recording in the notebook. The fucking notebook. Don't forget to write in the notebook. After awhile I could only hear Charlie Brown's teacher. Blah fuckin blah. I mistakenly asked Hospice about a timeline. Why did I even do that? Looking back they were dead on. How do they even do that? I remember it from October 2015. I remember it ALL. Now it was going through those oh so familiar pamphlets, celebrating when she took a bite of yogurt, helping her to the bathroom, begging her to come into the family room to do a puzzle. The worst moments of those couple weeks were when she couldn't breathe in the middle of the night, me waking in a panic, talking to her and helping her calm down. Hiding my tears as she laid her head against my chest, holding my hands, counting slowly as I rubbed her back and brushed her hair from her tired face. Helping her tiny body into the shower and making sure it was fast so she didn't get cold. My 12 year old helped me give her Giki a shower after she wet herself. It was the proudest I've ever been of her. I was awe struck watching the kid who drops dishes unloading the dishwasher and who leaves socks everywhere she goes, focus and get a really important job done because it was her favorite person in all the land. Later on she would help fix her pillows and try to get her to eat. When I would break, Drew would say "I know mama, we're helping her, we have to do this." TWELVE. She was TWELVE. The night before she died, my sweet husband stayed with me at her house, and thought of wetting mom's toothbrush so we could get the Morphine down without her choking. His gentle nature with her made me burst. I remember him breaking down and bawling at her bedside. My God that was the hardest I've ever seen him cry. "Please don't fail me now, darling, we can't both be blubbering fools right now." Then we broke into laughter as we tried to move her with the sheets like Hospice taught us and she opened her eyes for the first time in days just to shoot us a dirty look! What a whirlwind. A beautiful, gut wrenching, painful, familiar whirlwind. Seriously what the fuck is happening right now and why have I done this twice in less than 7 years. Absurd.

Mom decided to go be with dad on February 16, 2022 at 2:46pm after Eileen held the phone to her ear and  brother Mike told her it was ok and we'd be ok. Drew and I were laying with her in her bed. We held her hands, stared at her, and told her again we would be ok. I didn't know if that part was true, but I guess she needed to hear it. Or so they say. Drew looked at me and said "Did I just watch my Giki take her last breath?" Yes, honey, you did. It was equal parts fascinating, despairing, empty, and beautiful. I remember thinking to myself and trying to grasp that it was the last time I would be next to my mom's physical body. 9 months later, I still can't grasp it. I miss her so much that sometimes it's hard to breathe. What an unimaginable loss.

Imagine losing half of your family along with your mother because of the confusion that comes along with loss and the fact of having different beliefs. It's been quite a shocking, but eye opening ordeal, that is for sure. Mom gave me so many tools that I didn't even realize I had. My parents taught me well. Yes, I have them and they are in full effect. The last 9 months have taught me that death does strange things to people and to relationships. Meaningless issues about money, things, grudges and rumors that people start because of their own grief, maybe? I'm not sure and to be honest, I couldn't care less. People thinking that things are their business when they're not. True colors shine bright. Being my mom's only biological child has put a lot of responsibility on my shoulders that I'm still dealing with but thanks to my mom, my husband, and the girls, I've got this. I know I'm doing exactly what she wants me to do. She was so proud of my little family. Our upcoming adventures will surely have her written all over them and she will, without a doubt, guide me for the rest of my days.

I know our lifetimes are a mere second in the unfathomable picture of time. We are just glimpses. My hope is that one day I will see my mom and dad again. I believe they found each other because that kind of love and connection can't possibly just end. That gives me peace. For now though, I am just trying to navigate (and stumble) through life and my losses with (mostly) grace.

And I know that I will be ok.

Even without my umbrella.

Just trying to vent and move people simultaneously

It just took me about 10 minutes to remember my login for this thing.  A little upsetting because it means I haven't sat here for awhile.  In front of this blank page trying to vent selfishly and move people at the same time.  It's therapeutic.

Today is your birthday.  You would've been 89.  I decided to turn this day into a good one a year ago.  I hated it for 2 years.  Believe me or not, I STILL can't believe you're not physically here and I think about you more now than I did last year.. or the year before.. or the year before that.  I talked to Troy on the phone this morning and since it's the same for both of us, we were trying to make sense of it.  Maybe it's because of all of the things I'm accomplishing in my life that I want you to see, the little people I want you to kiss on the forehead.  Signature Berns.  And actually a pretty big person I would give anything to see you interact with.  Magic meeting magic.  I'd have a blast witnessing that.

I always find myself reminiscing these days.  Like, "geez Courtney, live in the now because you're just about the luckiest girl on planet Earth."  I know this.  I love my life, everyone in it, and everything it has become.  And every single human on Earth deserves the kind of life and love I have.  But let me tell you, losing my dad has changed me forever; my heart, my brain, every aspect of everything. It has also taught me so much.  Some things, I still push back on and probably always will but the only thing I can try to do with this loss and processing it, is to learn.  So shitty.

First of all, I'm really pissed.  A lot.  My dad was, to me, invincible in so many ways.  He was so kind, generous, protective, strong, honest ... although we, just now after his death, found out be broke his back riding our horse and not falling into an empty pool in '93 (story told so mom wouldn't freak out), so honest 100% of the time is a stretch LOL.  He would give a nice, solid smack on the back of the head to anyone who deserved it, usually the boys or their friends, but man was he the first in any one of our corners.  There was nothing more important to the man than his family.  He balanced my mom, he accepted everyone he met, he yelled very seldomly but when he did you listened or it was your ass.  He could lift 200 lb boulders at 70 and strategically place them on the waterfalls of his pools.  He constantly put the heads back on mine and Christine's dolls when we were little.  
He bought me the original Nintendo the first day it came out and I still have it.  He bragged about us.   He just made everything around him better.  And I'm really pissed that I don't get to be around that everyday anymore.  Memories aren't the same as living it.  So, no, the whole "may the memories help you" or whatever that is, just don't say it.  It's dumb.

A feeling like I didn't have enough time that's almost like suffocation.  Or letting go of a helium balloon and watching it drift toward the sun and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.  It's panic.  And I used to call you when I would panic.  Your advice came from such a place it was like you just reached up and tore a page out of a 'What To Say and Do to Make Everyone Around You Better For Knowing You' book.  Of course we didn't have enough time together.  35 years is not nearly enough hours.  I still had so much I wanted to show you.  I still can't grasp that we essentially lost you twice.  That fucking disease is horrendous.  I'm mad at it.

Death is so weird to me.  I remember saying in an earlier blog that the finality is breathtaking.  I've never found a better description.  So this person lives, creates, forms relationships, travels, sometimes makes kids, shares stories and ideas, contributes to society in some way, sometimes for a short time, sometimes decades, whatever then BAM!.  All of that is over at their last breath.  Then everyone they leave behind struggles to go on without them.  Isn't that the most fucked up thing you've ever heard?  Talk about the next Bird Box.  But that's exactly what it is!  A CRUSHING blow.  Unbearable at times.  I wish there was some kind of way around it..  A get out of jail free card of sorts.

I was walking down Main St at Disney World the other day and the sight of the castle made me cry, but the fireworks made me look like Amy Winehouse after a bender.  Jesus.  Took my breath away.  How many times did we stand there together watching those?  Some of my favorite memories are those vacations.  You were always such a little kid there.  My God what I wouldn't give.  We passed the Country Bear Jamboree and the Hall of Presidents.  I laughed and immediately texted Mark to laugh at how you couldn't walk by these two boring ass attractions with you without getting pulled in.  "Come on!  Don't argue with me!"  Haha and we'd of course go because you never wanted to disappoint Berns.  Ever.  So laughing happens a lot too, thinking of you.  It's not all humdrum.

Alright I'm not gonna go on and on but I wanted to check in with myself.  I'm doing ok, I really am. I married the man of my dreams (pretty sure he'd be the man of Berns' dreams for me too), added another little lady to the crew, and my work still fulfills me.  Days are different, some all laughs, some annoyingly somber.  So really not much in the Emotions Without Berns category has changed.  Besides I miss him more than I did yesterday.  

The luckiest of girls because of what my life is and the luckiest of girls because of what it was.

  

           

 

Five Hundred and Sixty Nine.

So finally, here I am.  Waited for some kind of 'aha' that I could ramble on about ... never came.  I could just blog about the mundanity that is my life lately  ... Drew ... family ... work ... the goings on in my tiny brain.  Every time I come here, in exchange for the freedom I get to write what I want and leave it on the paper, I am harassed by what I try to ignore on the reg.  I miss ya, Berns.

It's been 569 days, in case you were wondering.

Back in November, I decided to do something I've always wanted to do ..  I worked tirelessly and finally got my Florida real estate license.  Drew and I are going to move there.  It's always been my end game.  Figuring out the optimal time to move has proven to be the clincher, but I feel accomplished.  Fancy even.  I set my mind to achieve something and I did it.  It was hard and exhausting, but I did it.  My family support was unwavering, as always.  Pops would indeed be bragging to his pool customers, haha.

In the last almost 8 years of my life, and even more recently, I have come to understand that time is one of, if not the greatest freebies in life.  We are afforded the ability to give others our time when we choose to ... and in most instances, it proves to be less than enough.  Time with our children, time with our aging parents, siblings, time with good friends for impromptu beers and bonfires.  I figured out, with the help of one of my favorite people on the planet that my father's death opened my eyes to time.  Simple as hell ... And it hit me like a truck when he said it…that whole epiphany thing.   Yes, time may be free, but it goes by faster than I care to admit, my darlings, so spend it wisely.  And always remember, you're allowed to leave any story.

Spend. It. Wisely.

Like my last $5.  I'd choose Starbucks every time.  Wise.

Since pops left us, countless friends of mine have lost their parent(s).  It's a club no one wants to join.  The initiation is brutal.  I swear, until you lose a parent, you have absolutely no idea where we're coming from.  Did you read where I said it's been 569 days?  Yea that's 569 days of thinking about my dad and wishing I could have just 10 more minutes.  5 even.  Thankfully, the times of WHOLE day crying have greatly diminished.  Now instead of the 16 hrs I'm awake and not dreaming of him, I only think of him 15:57.  I think I'm making great progress.  Fuckin A.

Yes, yes.  I am fully aware that I can't let the pain dictate my demeanor.  I heard that dumb shit the other day ... **this is me rolling my eyes.**

Don't worry, I've already tried.  I've pinched myself 1000 times.  My dad is really gone.  

The number of occasions on record because of mom's trusty camcorder are many, but somehow still not enough.  We watch them often.  I know I've mentioned before how grateful I am that mom followed all of us around at every single family function with a camera in our faces.  She had no idea what she was creating for everyone around her.  Mostly now, for Drew.  She gets to hear my dad's voice whenever she wants to.  She gets to see him in his prime loving his kids, loving my mom, she gets to hear all of us worshipping our first hero.  She asks a lot of questions and I love to tell her stories to make her laugh.  I am well aware that Drew having 6 years with my dad and now hearing the stories and feeling his legacy has been one of the greatest gifts she will receive in this lifetime.  Actually, I as her mother consider it a gift to myself.  My parents and family have been my other half in raising this little lady.  That's quite a remarkable foundation and I am forever indebted.

Honestly ask yourself if you think you've done enough.  If you've asked enough questions, spent enough time, expressed enough, hugged enough, laughed enough.  The answer is always going to be no.  You cannot prepare for lost time, or make up for it, but for right now, you can be present.  Make sense?  In other words just be in every moment you encounter.  The heartache is tangible and achingly raw when the minutes are gone, so do yourself a favor and BE in every moment you can.  Be conscious about it.

Let that sink in.  Today, not tomorrow.

To Drew, you will always have parts of papa inside you.  The parts of you that are kind and thoughtful; the parts of you that are funny and inquisitive; the parts that are helpful and understanding.  Those are you, mixed with him:  The grandest brew I ever did see.  I am doing my absolute best to keep him in the forefront of that little mind of yours.  This loss has been tremendous.  Thank you for helping me to see what is important.  I'm so proud of who you are.  He's with us always, I promise.

To Dad, the words "I miss you" and "I wish I could ..." are so fucking old to me.  There's gotta be some other verbiage in the English language no one knows to describe this awareness.  It's painful, hollow, it's all consuming,  frightening, it's daunting, causes me to panic frequently, and I. LOATHE. IT.  I never want to forget your voice or the way it felt when you hugged me.  Safe.  I never want to forget your jokes, the way your eyes lit up at Disney World, the way you looked at Drew, and the way you loved my mom.  I never want to forget your hands.  Those hardworking, gentle hands.  They could carry boulders and lay brick, pull back on the greenest of stallions, or touch the end of a baby's nose to make her smile.  Your kindness is unparalleled.  Thank you for my childhood and all the years after.  Thank you for showing Drew how it's done.  Thank you for showing me how it's done.

Those are some lucky fucking angels.    I didn't get to love you long enough here.

                










      

So Many Lessons

My dad made me read this to him about 100 times.  He loved it so now I think of him when I read it.  It's a letter to Drew I wrote when she was 4 and papa started to decline.  ❤️❤️

Funny how life's experiences bring out the feels and make you ponder.


For Drew ... on a Saturday.

First let me tell you the most important thing you’ll ever hear.  I loved you before you were born and now that you are here, its indescribable. You will know one day when you have a child or several.  It’s infinite; the love.  And there’s just no other way to say it.  I would do anything for you at any time.  I can’t promise that I will be here for the rest of your life, but I can sure promise that I will love you for the rest of mine.

I wish I could tell you everything you need to know.  Well I could, maybe, but it wouldn’t mean much.  It’s all in the experience.  We learn from those.  You will learn that you can’t control anything but yourself.  And there are no guarantees.  

I’m gonna tell you a few things that I hope stay with you.

  

Always forgive.  That one’s hard.  So hard.  But do it.  You’re only freeing yourself.  

Try to understand.  Really try to understand.  "Why did she say that?”  "What made him think he could get away with that?"  You will not always know everything about those reasons and it’s not your right to.  Understand that people aren’t you.  You’re the only you and that’s all you need to know.  People do what they do, so just do what you do and you’ll be fine.

You won’t always win.  The whole “everybody wins” thing isn’t real life.  Sometimes you will lose and that’s ok.  Get back up.  

Your heart will be broken countless times.  It happens.  Don’t cry about it longer than necessary.  There’s a time limit on these things.

With every break you will be stronger and you will be one step closer to the man that deserves you.   

You’re going to experience loss.  Of a pet, of family, of friends maybe.  It hurts really bad.  Just know it’s part of life, honey.  Don’t get angry for too long and you can ask why but the only answer is it's just part of life.

  

Revel in the challenges you face and look back on them not with regret, but with gratitude.  Every single thing that happens in your life brings you to the place you are supposed to be.  Always.

Do not EVER get into drugs.  Drew, that will close so many doors for you. No human being that successfully contributes to society is on drugs. If they are, their reign is short lived.  Nothing good will come out of any drug use whatsoever.  You will end up dead or addicted and I WILL NOT let either happen to you.  Should you decide that drugs look like a good time, I will stalk you, I will flip out on you, I will drive you crazy and I will be your worst nightmare (I read that once and couldn’t have said it better).  I will spend every waking moment of my life making your life a living Hell.  Just don’t do it.

Most likely you will have grown up most of your life with a dog.  Keep that going.  Everyone needs a dog.  Or two.  There’s nothing like their unconditional love.  We can learn a lot from a dog.

Sports.  Working out, soccer, dance, whatever.  Stay active forever.  Not only will you stay healthy and fit, you will forever have a release. Something that you love that you can escape to.  Escape daily, even if for just 15 minutes. 

Keep a journal.  Looking back on them is nostalgic and writing in them is therapeutic. 

Get the highest level of education you can, in the classroom and out.  Knowledge is POWER.  Nothing else to say about that. 

Make money.  The famous saying is “Money isn’t everything” and while it’s not, it does mean freedom.  In this society, you can’t do anything without money and you’ll die an early death from stress worrying about how you’ll pay your bills.  That’s just the way it is.  Sorry.  Make money. 

Remember that in life, there is absolutely nothing like family, but a close second is your girlfriends.  DO NOT EVER lose your girlfriends.  The older you get and the more history you have with them, you will realize you need them, their guidance, their laughter, their stories.  

You really, really need them.

Make your home cozy.  You might have a stressful job, tedious errands all the time, a busy hectic schedule, but at the end of the day, you come home.  And there’s nothing like coming home to a place you love to be in, surrounded by your favorite things/people.  There’s also nothing like clean, cold sheets.  Please wash your sheets.  Gross.

Don’t worry if you’re not married by 30.  As I’m writing this, I’m 34 and I’m not married.  I'm also going to be ok.

Please don’t look at yourself in the mirror and think anything but good thoughts.  If you think anything different, it’s up to you to change it and don’t think twice about doing that.  No one wants to be around someone who is self loathing.  Opposite of magnet.

Lastly, every minute with everyone in your life is really a gift.  Cliche, but you never know when you’re having your last conversation with someone or a last hug, last glance, whatever.  Remember it.  The little moments in life are the things that mold you.  I can’t stress this enough. The little moments.

Oh and one more thing.  BE KIND.  Always be kind, Drew.  If everything you do and say comes from a good place, I’ve done my job.     

Always. Be. Kind.

2-2-14 Midnight 

Written on a boring Saturday night while Disney is on the tv and you’ve been in bed for 4 hours.  

Haha never thought this day would come.

  

   

    

Full Circle. This First Year Was a Bitch ....

A year.  12 months, 52 weeks, 365 days, 8760 hours, 525600 minutes.  I'm not going to even do the seconds but whichever way you look at it, it's a long fucking time.  It's been a bear of a year.  Head down, focus on what's ahead, and understand that controlling the controllables is all you can do.  Damn.  Indeed an explosion of emotional instability ... I am not cut out for this.  Knowing I have no choice makes it all that more interesting.  "Hey mommy, why are you crying?  Did you hurt yourself or are you thinking about papa?"  Don't worry, Drewy, its just mommy's lack of knowing which way is up  ... cry, laugh, scream ... ?  I couldn't be more grateful for Drew.  She gets me.  As she stands staring at me intently, she knows not to hug me until it's over.  She makes me feel better just being in the room.  She knows this.

For the last few days I've woken up in a mess of sweat and tears before my alarm goes off.  Then as I lay there, I slowly remember the dream I was in a few minutes before.  You're there, ALWAYS.  Whether we're laughing or I even remember yelling at some point, you're there, ALWAYS.  Kind of like my real life.  You were forever in my face, letting me know I was loved and you were there.  Letting me know I screwed up, but you were there.  Letting me know I shouldn't lie to a man who taught others about body work and paint on cars about how mom's car got creamed ... oops!  But you were there.  To say you're "gone" makes me cringe.  Like the kind of cringe you get when you watch someone sing in front of a crowd when they really can't ...   I really hate the word gone when I'm talking about you.  I hate everything that has to do with you not being by our side.  It takes my breath away.

I read something the other day about what you learn when you lose a parent and a couple of the points struck me.  One said that when you lose a parent, you become more affectionate and attached.  Uhhh, not at all what I've experienced.  I pull away when I'm in pain.  Almost completely withdraw.  Everyone else has aches of their own, who wants to hear my shit?  There are only a select few I unload on.  They know who they are.  They're the ones standing with shields and armor next to me at the bar or sitting with me on my couch laughing at nothing.  Best friends anyone could ask for.  The last year would have been even more unendurable without them.  Believe me, I appreciate you even if I don't say it.
The next point was you learn not to waste time.  Learned that, maybe even in the last month, but I've learned it.  Anyone or anything that doesn't measure up can watch the back of me as I leave.  Not worth it.  If I could take back every minute with you I took for granted, I would.  It's just a lesson.
A very tough lesson that unfortunately isn't learned until after the fact.  Ugh.

I am embarking on a new journey shortly and man, do I wish you were here.  You would tell me what to do.  You knew everything.  You would have a ton of jokes, laughing about the what ifs, but I would know if the decision I'm making is right.  I wouldn't question it because I never questioned anything you said.  Ever.  One of the greatest gifts you and mom gave me was security.  In all things.  It's a very strange, eery feeling to know there's only one of you now.  She does a damn good job keeping the security thing in play ... But sometimes I just need you.  A LOT of times, I just need you.

Michael tells me I need to let go of you because you have moved on and I need to move on too.  I don't feel like it.  I'm sorry if I'm keeping you around but I can't let go.  There isn't a day that goes by that I don't feel your being.  It's comfort and I'm not ready to be without it.

It's fascinating to me that a year has gone by (not the good kind of fascinating).  Without you.
That's a gross fucking statement right there.  Without you.  

It takes my breath away.

The Road Continues, Even Without You

Daddy's birthday just passed.  I woke up on August 9 struggling to find my balance.  By balance I mean bringing the part of me that knows I need to start mine and Drew's day, together with the part of me that wants to lay in bed, staring at a blank ceiling, alone.  Well I didn't lay and stare at the ceiling all day but I might as well have.  Completely useless.  I wasn't very productive, that's for damn sure.  There's something so strange about that because what's so different about this day than any other day?  I miss you so much every single second of my existence so August 9 wasn't really new news.  It's the fucking dreaded firsts.  Gross.

We're quickly approaching a year which is unbelievable to me.  So many things have happened that I wish you were here to see.  Well I know you see them, I just wish I could see you see them.  My life has been a series of terrible decisions and a million second guesses lately and no matter when I ask you for the answer, I see you with your signature hand move saying "Leave it be."  One of the sentences I heard you say again and again through the years.  You were so wise like that.  Just leave it be.  Let it happen.  Well, just know I hear it even though I haven't been listening to it until recently.  You didn't really expect me to miraculously start taking your great advice, did you?  Sorry to disappoint haha.

I watched a video today of cousin Dawn's wedding to Will.  I know you and Tim are having quite the reunion up there with the family, but the video made me bawl like a baby.  Just as Tim wasn't there to walk Dawn down the aisle to the love of her life, if I ever get married, you won't be there either.

For some reason that crushed my soul today.

I want to dance on the tops of your feet with my whole hand wrapped around your thumb.

Sometimes I feel like I'm a kid again.  When I think of you, I struggle to remember the end and the difficulties of our every day.  I don't like to think about you forgetting your words, the safety covers on the stove knobs so you couldn't turn them on, the long sleepless nights, the bedside commode that you almost pummeled me for making you sit on (LOL).  Nope, I don't think about any of that longer than a couple minutes.  I think about you and your rhymes you would spout off out of nowhere, the slaps on the back of my brothers' heads, your morning coffee spoon trick, your peanut butter toast with butter that no one could make as good as you did, or that damn raspberry coffee cake (HAD to be Entenmann's), you working tirelessly with the boys on the lawn on Parklane, the way you looked at mom every single day ... Hey!  I even went to a Mexican restaurant on your birthday and saw those friggin parrots hanging on perches just like the ones you bought off that lady in Acapulco... remember that?  I sent a pic to Amy while I was at lunch and she laughed so hard.  Omg those things were EVERYWHERE for YEARS!  And all because you didn't want a pregnant woman to have to peddle all day on a hot beach.  How many of those things did you buy, like 150?  I was just a kid, Drew's age actually, but I'll never forget that.  I've always been so proud of you, dad.  

How lucky was I that I had a father so incredible that missing him actually gives me a pain in my chest?  Well duh .... I know I'm luckier than most.  So what.  I miss him and I want him here.  No matter how many voices say he's always with me and sees, blah blah blah, I know all that.  But the thing I long for at this moment, more than any other thing, is a hug from my dad.  Every time I walked in the house, he would say "Hey, kid!"  My biggest fan for sure.  How I miss that voice.

Drew constantly notes how handsome and tan you are now.  I believe her.  And I thank you for sticking around for her.  She's a busy kid, but there isn't a day that passes that she doesn't mention her papa.  She misses you immensely.  Me, you, and mom are her people.  You made it possible, along with mom for me to give her the most loving formative years.  I've said before that she will be a little funnier, a little kinder, and a little wiser for knowing you.  That little lady is going to carry you with her for the rest of her life and for that I couldn't ever thank you enough.

Day to day hasn't changed.  We are learning to deal, but sometimes the emptiness is all consuming.

Someday, maybe, I will semi accept that the road continues without you, but it's never going to be okay with me.

There will be times when you wanna hold on, but you gotta let go.

I have undoubtedly come to realize that there are those who think that I should be in recovery mode by now.  Maybe one day a long time ago I would've thought the same.  And maybe sometimes in the present, I feel that recovery mode could be a viable option shortly.  Then I push the 'shortly' off and understand that shit will just happen when it happens.  Who even knows.

It's the most astonishing concept to me that the death of my dad has actually taught me a lot about myself.  My feelings, the tangible realization that life is so short, my worth, my time, the importance of all of the little moments in a day.  I'm working on it.  I'm working on it.  The importance of the little moments.  And trying to grasp that there will be times when you wanna hold on but you gotta let go.  Learning to breathe.  What a concept.

Crying every day hasn't subsided.  Triggers are all over the place, of course.  Like the other day, leaning on a chair at my table, my friend must've noticed my face and asked me what I was thinking about.  This glass vase of shells I was looking at reminded me of pops and his favorite place.  Ugh.  I love to hate those moments.

A little extra streak of anger has crept in for sure.  Sometimes I'm so mad that I'm missing my dad so much.  And I'm mad that Drew is missing out on the greatest man I've ever known.  I don't care that she was lucky to have him for 6 years.  She doesn't have him now.  I actually grabbed for my phone when I got an accepted deal on a house the other day.  I thought in my head "gotta call dad, he'll love the way this played out."  Fuck!  How the Hell did I just forget I can't call him?!  Happens all the time.  Or I'll think "I haven't talked to dad in a minute...."  Well no shit!  You don't say ....

With the anger comes gratitude believe it or not.  I have a lot of friends that make me laugh.  I also have a lot of friends that remember the healthy and hilarious Bernie that everyone loved.  Those stories are like a bear hug.  Irreplaceable.  He touched everyone he knew.  Man do I miss those shananigans.  There's really nothing else to say about him that I haven't already.  He was just that guy.

Drew misses her papa and talks about him every day.  She will be a little sweeter, a little funnier, and a lot stronger from knowing him.  He loved her with his whole heart and soul.  She'll carry that with her .... see,  there's some more of that gratitude thing.

It's been 7 months so I just wanted to write.  Nothing important.  You're not going to find anything profound here, that's for sure.  Just a girl missing her dad and wanting to write about it.  Yawn.