Life lately

There are good days and there are bad days.  The good days are when I'm distracted from all things concerning my mom, or the times I see her in person or over Skype and catch her smiling or talking normally and it calms my soul;  the bad days catch me by surprise and kind of piss me off, quite frankly.  Like yesterday-- I was doing just fine, as I think I'd been for the past week, until I sat down last evening and opened a book I picked up from the library that I'd seen on someone's recent book list:  When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalinithi.  I am not sure what I was thinking, reading a book written by a man around my age who died of terminal lung cancer shortly after writing it, especially in the midst of my own mother's terminal cancer diagnosis. I guess I thought it would help me come to terms with the concept of death and dying.  And it IS a good book--Kalinithi was a good writer, a neurosurgeon by training, but writer and philosopher at heart (he also had degrees in Literature)-- one that was compelling enough for me to read in one sitting.  It wasn't until I got to the end of the book and started reading the epilogue (around 2am), written by Kalinithi's widow, when it hit me and all the emotions I'd felt the day my mom's cancer diagnosis had been confirmed came flooding back.  I lost it.

Also, it's been raining all week this week. I normally enjoy the rain and overcast weather, but it certainly does not add to the mood right now.

I know there will be a better day some other time. I just need to ride this one out.  In the meantime, some things that happened last week:

A little mother/daughter selfie!

All ready for a  walk around the neighborhood

Zoo play date with some friends

Loves to make us laugh--she is her father's daughter!

First visit to Slate Run Living Historical Farm

Parents and aunt from Argentina visited last weekend. It was a great day.

On a lazy day, watching The Secret Life of Pets

This past Monday, Maddie turned 22 months--how is it that my little girl will be two in just a few short months?!?!

Life is short and precious.

I know I have a lot to be thankful for; I know there are countless of people in the world who would kill for a fraction of the fortunate blessings I've had in my 34 years.  I know that.  I know there really isn't anything for me to be rightly angry about.

I'll admit to you that the dreadful thought has passed through my head more than once that perhaps it would have been less painful if I hadn't had the privilege of having had a mother all this time; kind of the reverse sentiment to the cliche'd saying, "It's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all".  As if to say that if I didn't know what I'd be missing, than the torture of going through all the great memories of the past with my mother would not be so painful.  But I realized that the opposite of that--not having had a mother at all--which many experience, perhaps through losing a mother in childhood and not having any memories of her, is another kind of torture and pain that remains with a person all their life.  There is no "win-win", I guess.

And that reminds of a line from Kalinithi's book that stood out to me: "Life is not about avoiding suffering..."

Something I need to come to terms with, for sure.

I feel like I should be apologizing for the tone of my blog lately; I know I've probably lost readers (from four readers to one, lol) ever since I started throwing in more spiritual sentiments, although I'm not going to apologize for that, but more for the depressing aspects of it.  But truthfully, this is all I've got left.  No, really.  My mom was my biggest confidante; I have few friends, mostly acquaintances, who would most likely be made uncomfortable with all of my moping; I don't believe in "laying it all out there" on Facebook (although in the past, I admit, I have and regretted it) and even my husband...as great as Ryan is and as wise...he even admitted he can do nothing for me emotionally.  That's just not who he is.  He's a practical guy who likes statistics and facts, not tears and what-ifs.

So I write. Even if sporadically.  Reading is good (but maybe stay away from cancer stories for now); exercising is great, but again, discipline and time problem; being outside and being with people (at the right times) can be good, too.  I go to church--this past week was so-so.  I didn't feel very "spiritual" that day and rushed off as soon as the service was over to avoid talking to anyone.  But I suppose--as Ryan told me, in one of his more compassionate moments-- there is no "right or wrong way" to be at this time.  There are days I go, "You know, my mom is almost 70, she's seen a lot, and watched us grow up and become who we are, has seen her first grandchild--which is more than a lot of people get--it's okay. This is okay."  And as soon as I have that though, I'm appalled with myself.  Really?  You're okay with your mom dying in possibly the next year or few years??  Of course not. If given the power, I'd make her live (and everyone else who has terminal illness) 30 more years.  I don't have the power, though.  I am powerless.

I suppose I'm no different than any other person going through this; experiencing the different stages of grief, but perhaps out of order, back in order, and then out of order again.  I'm all over the place, really.

I guess that's okay.