Twilight Zone

I feel like I am living in the Twilight Zone. I really do.

When my mom died, I was in the darkest depths of despair and rage and anguish and pain. When my mom died, I hurt so bad I could not even breathe. When my mom died, I did not think I could go another minute. When my mom died, I was careening out of control down a downward spiral. When my mom died, I was suffering…and everyone told me it would get better. I was told the sun would come out again. I was told that the pain would be less raw. I was told that I would find happiness in life. I was told time heals all wounds. I was told…

That was then…this is now…

Today I was having a pretty good day. Finally. A day where I was not consumed with the endless train of “what ifs”? A day where I was not overwhelmed by everything that has happened. A day where I was not laying in a pile on the floor. It was a day where I ran my errands and was actually able to cross things off the list. It was a day where I made progress on my projects. It was a day where I was able to get through without crying at the drop of a hat. It was a day where I was able to remember the good times I have had with my mom without the images of her death hanging over my head. When I am finally able to function in a normal capacity again I am told that there will be dark days ahead. No lie. At the grocery store today I ran into two people I know. Two long conversations in the aisles as strangers whisked by with their carts, living their own lives. I was asked how I was doing. I said that for the most part, I am having a pretty good day for the first time since my mom died. The just looked at me and shook their head. Then they spoke. I was told that there will be many times when I will miss my mom so much it will be unbearable. I was told that it will be the hardest when I start to think of all the things she is missing in our lives. I was told that there will be days where I will cry because I just want to hear her voice again. I was told that there will be many dark days ahead. I was told...

I left the grocery store bewildered.

I then went to the cemetery to visit my mom’s grave. I talked to her for awhile. I cried for awhile. I laughed for awhile. Life is truly bizarre. As I said goodbye, I thanked her for leaving me here with all these lunatics.

Life in the Twilight Zone.

Memorial Day 2005

Today was Memorial Day. A day to remember.

We had lunch with my dad. It is hard to be with my dad because I miss my mom so much. It is strange, but when I am with him I am reminded that I will never do things with my mom again. Never have lunch again, never talk again, and never laugh again. It is hard. Everything is still such a huge reminder of what has been lost.

After lunch we went to the cemetery to leave flowers for my mom. I am amazed every time I go there and the flamingos remain. I am glad they are there though. She would have gotten a huge kick out of it.

At the cemetery my friend Robyn had left a bottle of bubbles and a pinwheel at my mom’s grave. She had come and gone before we got there. Once we got to the grave Isabella immediately grabbed the bubbles. So I had to open them and blow bubbles. It was a moment I will never forget. Little Isabella running trying to catch bubbles at my mom’s grave. Laughing with pure joy in a place of such sadness. I think my mom was watching from above. At least I hope she was. She would have been smiling from ear to ear. Life moves forward, no matter what.

I miss my mom so much. I am slowly accepting that this void is permanent and that this is simply how life is going to be from now on. Everything is broken with no way of fixing it.

Last night I started reading the book “Forever Ours: Real Stories of Immortality and Living from a Forensic Pathologist” by Janis Amatuzio, MD. It is a book about her life a as physician, forensic pathologist and coroner and her experiences with the living, dying and the dead. It is an interesting book. She recounts many of the stories she was told and things she witnessed. It gives one hope that there truly is something more than what we can see, hear and feel here on Earth. I gave my mom the book a few months back, I hope she found comfort in it as well.

Other news…

In a bizarre moment today I offered to mow the lawn. My sister was going to hire the neighbor kid to come and do it because Richard had to finish the deck. I don’t know what came over me, I honestly don’t. But, I regretted it the minute I said I would. I am terrible with manual labor. I really am. I have not mowed a lawn in about 5 years. I won’t own a house until I am rich enough to hire gardeners. Seriously. I hate yard work. Hate it. As an actor, I cannot even pretend to enjoy it. Jesse Metcalf I am not.

My sister has a huge lawn. It took me an hour and half. No lie. The lawn mower became a tool of destruction and mayhem. I ran everything over…sticks, rocks, lawn decorations, small children. You name, it was run over and spit out in a million pieces. I figured since I am already out here pushing the mower, there is no way I am bending over as well. If it was in my path, It was destroyed. The lawn mower was like a giant wood-chipper, rock crusher and salad shooter all in one. Nothing was spared. Some people mow their lawns in a neat and orderly fashion. Their lawn has orderly lines and look really neat. I had started out with a plan to make it look really nice and impress my sister and her husband. Did not work out that way. There are so many lines that criss-cross, zig-zag, abruptly stop, start again a few feet over and weave around things that the lawn looks like a crack addict mowed it. To top it all off…I have a blister on my foot from mowing the lawn. No lie. I wish to God I was joking, but I am not. It is beyond pathetic. Beyond. I can safely say though, it will probably be another five years before I offer or am asked to mow the lawn again. And I am ok with that. I really am. Been there, done it…have the grass stains to prove it.

Another day down.

night brings no rest

Last night I had a terrible nightmare. It was heartbreaking. I actually woke up and must have been crying for awhile in my sleep. I was crying so hard I was gasping for breath and my eyes were raw.

I had dreamed that my mom was alive and everyone was celebrating that all of her tests and scans came back clear and she was cancer free. I kept trying to tell her and everyone else that the tests were wrong and we needed to go back to the doctor’s office and get it figured out. No one would listen to me, despite all my protests. Everyone was screaming at me for being negative and for just trying to cause trouble. Then in the next moment she got really sick and died. Everyone was horrified. In my nightmare she died telling me she was angry with me for not making her and everyone else listen that the tests were wrong.

I can remember two other times in my life when I actually woke up because I was crying so hard in my sleep. This was the third time. The two previous times were during her fight against cancer and I had dreamed that she died. The first time I was in the cities when it happened and it freaked me out. I was awake all night, wanting to call her and make sure she was alright. At the crack of dawn I finally called and was relieved beyond belief when she answered the phone. She could not figure out why I was doing up and calling so early. I never told her that I dreamt she died. The second time I was at home in Little Falls. When I woke up, I rushed downstairs immediately and she was asleep on the couch. I just sat there, thanking God that it was only a nightmare. This time it is different. It is a nightmare and it is also reality. Sad truth. She is gone…almost a month and half…and it just doesn’t seem possible.

It was a long time before I fell back asleep. I just kept reliving the nightmare in my mind over and over and over. Trying to make sense out of it, where there was none to be made.

I used to love the night. I used to be a night owl. I could stay up all night. Not anymore. Everything has changed. It’s nights like last night that actually make me afraid to go to sleep. Night brings no rest. Night only brings an uncertain tomorrow.

Like A Prayer

A year ago today…May 28…it was a Friday. I remember it vividly. I was at work waiting to hear news on how my mom’s tests were going. She was very nervous. It was her first cycle of treatment and the doctors were hoping it would do the trick. I had a wedding to go to that weekend so I was in the cities. My friend Tracy was getting married and I had been asked to do a reading for the wedding. Oddly enough with all my theatre experience and doing stand up comedy, Tracy is the only one who has ever asked me to do a reading at a wedding. I guess no one thinks I could ever do something serious or maybe they are just afraid I would say something inappropriate or whatever. Anyways…who knows, who cares? Not me. I hate going to weddings to begin with, so it is easier to skip them if you are not actually a part of it. I hate weddings and I hate funerals. Harder to skip funerals though. I never do, I feel too guilty. I go to funerals if I can make it. Funerals seem more important of the two. I remember everyone who was and was not at my mom’s funeral. I don’t try to, I just do.

I called my mom that morning. She had not heard anything yet. She told me she would call me when she heard something. I was anxious all day. Of course I hated my job and everyone was gone for the holiday weekend, so I spent the day surfing the internet, downloading songs from Madonna’s new tour that had just kicked off a few days earlier. Madonna was performing “Like A Prayer” for the first time since her Blond Ambition tour in 1990. It had not been performed live in the past 14 years. “Like A Prayer” is my favorite song. Not just my favorite Madonna song, but my favorite song of all time. The song was released 16 years ago, hard to believe. I had been able to get all the other downloads of the songs from the concert to work except “Like A Prayer”. It was driving me crazy. I tried for hours to get it to work and nothing. Finally I was able to get it to play and the phone rang in the middle of the song. It was my mom. The test results just came in and were great. The cancer was shrinking and disappearing. Her blood counts were normal. Everything was going better than expected. So far the treatment was working amazingly well. I was told that as soon as she finishes chemo, they will do final scans and tests. So far all of our prayers were answered. She was doing well, very well. I found it weird that I got the call just as I got the song to work. Very weird. That was a year ago today.

The wedding was the next day. It was nice. Cold, but nice. It was outdoors and it had been raining that morning. I felt bad for Tracy. A cold day to be outside in a sleeveless wedding dress. I was in a sweater and a jacket and I was freezing. I could not imagine how cold she was. I remember walking down the hill to where the chairs were. Everyone trying not to slip in the wet grass. Her friend, Bruce…my unofficial nemesis, looked at me and said “smile” and made a gesture with his fingers in the shape of a smile. I hated him in that moment. I hated him a lot. It is hard to smile when your mom is fighting cancer. It is hard to smile when you are slowing realizing that the most important person in the world to you might not have much time left. It is hard to smile when your mom is fighting for her life. It was hard to smile for so many reasons. I said nothing and kept walking.

For my mom we all know how the story ends. The good news for my mom does not last long. But, while it does…life is good. Memorial Day weekend last year was a good weekend. A year later, it’s not so good. In addition to putting flowers on my grandparents’ graves we will be adding another grave. A grave that had to be dug way too soon. A grave that belongs to my mom. Still sad, still angry, still hard to believe it is real.

As for Tracy, she is still married. Happily, I assume. Living in Wisconsin. I have not seen her in a long time. I hope she is well. I ran into Tracy’s parents at the cemetery on Mother’s Day. Becky and Bill were there visiting the graves of their loved ones who have passed on. Becky had a flower for my mom from Tracy. It was a moment of kindness and generosity that I will never forget. Thank you for remembering my mom. It is the greatest gift I can be given.

I remember everything. Always have, always will. Sometimes it gets foggy…but trust me...I will remember.

I listened to “Like A Prayer” today and remembered a year ago when good news came in the middle of it. News that my mom was getting better and was going to be cured. But, today…no good news. No news at all. The song ended and this time, no call from my mom. My mom is gone.

Like A Prayer
by Madonna

Life is a mystery, everyone must stand alone
I hear you call my name
And it feels like home

When you call my name it's like a little prayer
I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there
In the midnight hour I can feel your power
Just like a prayer you know I'll take you there

I hear your voice, it's like an angel sighing
I have no choice, I hear your voice
Feels like flying
I close my eyes, Oh God I think I'm falling
Out of the sky, I close my eyes
Heaven help me

When you call my name it's like a little prayer
I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there
In the midnight hour I can feel your power
Just like a prayer you know I'll take you there

Like a child you whisper softly to me
You're in control just like a child
Now I'm dancing
It's like a dream, no end and no beginning
You're here with me, it's like a dream
Let the choir sing

When you call my name it's like a little prayer
I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there
In the midnight hour I can feel your power
Just like a prayer you know I'll take you there

Just like a prayer, your voice can take me there
Just like a muse to me, you are a mystery
Just like a dream, you are not what you seem
Just like a prayer, no choice your voice can take me there

Just like a prayer, I'll take you there
It's like a dream to me

Speed of Sound

This song is brilliant. It says everything I can't say at the moment.

SPEED OF SOUND
by Coldplay

How long before I get in
Before it starts before I begin
How long before you decide or
Before I know what it feels like
Where to, where do i go?
If you never try then you'll never know
How long do i have to climb
Up on the side of this mountain of mine

Look up, I look up at night
Planets are moving at the speed of light
Climb up, up in the trees
Every chance that you get is a chance you seize
How long am I gonna stand
With my head stuck under the sand
I start before I can stop or
Before I see things the right way up

All that noise and all that sound
All those places I have found
And birds go flying at the speed of sound
To show ya how it all began
Birds came flyin from the underground
If you could see it then you'd understand

Ideas that you'll never find
All the inventors could never design
The buildings that you put up
Japan and China all lit up
A sign that I couldn't read
or a light, that I couldn't see
Some things you have to believe
When others are puzzles, puzzlin me

All that noise and all that sound
All those places I have found
And birds go flying at the speed of sound
To show ya how it all began
Birds came flyin from the underground
If you could see it then you'd understand
Oh when you see it then you'll understand

All those signs I knew what they meant
Somethings you can't invent
Some get made, and some get sent
Earth's gone flying at the speed of sound
To show ya how it all began
Birds came flyin from the underground
If you could see it then you'd understand
Oh when you see it then you'll understand

chatter

There is so much noise in my head, it is impossible to think. Just constant noise.

Noise. It’s like when you hear foreigners speak their language and it seems to only be a bunch of random noises that are meaningless. You hear it and think that there is no possible way it could mean anything. But, it does. It holds so many meanings. Noise. It is like my mind is speaking a foreign language that I don’t know. I don’t understand my thoughts and I have no idea how to figure them out.

Well, that is my mind lately. Yesterday I could not complete a single thought that required more than a few seconds. Anything needing concentration was out of the question. I tried to write, but the noise was too great. Could not form sentences. Abandoned mission. People talk to me and I am looking at them and then my mind not only wanders, but runs. I have no clue what they are saying or how to respond. I just blankly stare and blink. It is horrible. I stop mid-sentence. Having no clue what I was about to say or what I just said. Awkward pause is the only language I seem to know anymore. So I am not really speaking to anyone, too much effort, at this moment.

Chatter. Chatter. Chatter. Meaningless noise. I can’t hear myself think. I can’t hear anything buy chatter. Chatter. Chatter. Chatter.

Praying to understand the chatter. Praying for silence so I can hear myself again.

My soul is restless.

The Pendulum Swings Back

Yesterday was ok, today was terrible. The pendulum swings back.

My dad had surgery on his elbow today. Another day spent at the hospital. It was a work injury and a fairly common procedure. The actual operation only took 30 minutes, but it was an all day affair. Had to go early to be admitted, they were running really late, had the surgery followed by time in recovery and then moved into a room for a few more hours and then finally released to go home around 8:30 PM or so. A long day.

It was also a day that brought back a lot of memories of my mom. Since it was an outpatient surgery his room was in Same Day Services. Same Day Services is also where they do chemotherapy. Even though my mom never had chemotherapy there – she went to St. Cloud, it was gut-wrenching. Seeing people in the chairs, hooked up to the IV’s was too much. I was not prepared for it. I had no idea that my dad would be in the same ward of the hospital as the cancer patients. Doesn’t even make sense. Even now I don’t like to think about it. There are some places I never want to go again in my life. They bring back too many painful memories. The hospital is one; another is the cancer center and chemotherapy rooms. Today I was back in all of it…unknowingly, unwillingly and unprepared. In all honesty, it was too much. I felt like I was emotionally ambushed. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, I just had no idea. I can’t even really write about it, it is too difficult. Moving on…

Of course it being a small town, a bunch of people had to talk to me and tell me that they were sorry for the loss of my mom. It was nice of them, but it is also an inescapable reminder that she is gone, never to return. Then there were a few others that recognized me from the shows I have done in town. They were more focused on talking to me about my shows and reliving my moments on stage than talking to my dad about his operation and pain.

The whole day was bizarre from beginning to end.

After I left the hospital I went to the cemetery. There is a strange comfort that can only be found there. Hard to explain. There is a certain sense of calm and peace. I just sat at her grave, thinking about life. I talked to her for a little bit, cried a lot and then was back on my way. The pink flamingos are still there. I was nervous that someone would find them too tacky and remove them. I smiled when I saw them. I think she would have found it hilarious. I think with each passing day I miss her more. I would not have thought it possible, but it is true. I miss her more today than I ever have before. I cried all the way home from Little Falls. 30 miles is a long way to drive when you are crying, trust me.

Once again I am exhausted. Exhausted from it actually being a really long day. I have thought too much today. I am tired of thinking. I just want to sleep for a very long time.

middle of the road

Today was a day. Not a bad day, not a good day. Just a day. A balanced day, I would say. No overwhelming sadness, no overwhelming happiness. No looming sense of despair, no bursting sense of hope. A middle of the road kind of day.

I am going to be early. I am exhausted. From what, I have no idea. I really did not do much of anything today. But, I am not sleeping well. No nightmares or anything, just not sleeping. I keep waking up over and over and over all night long. Last night I woke up and was confused once again as to where I was. It was a good thing that I had left a light on, otherwise it would have taken me longer to figure out where I was and I would have been much more panicked. I hate those moments. Moments of fear and uncertainty and confusion. But, those moments are even more dangerous because it is in those moments that I forget what has happened and even in the fear and confusion there is a moment of relief that everything has only been a bad dream. I think that it all has been a really terrible nightmare, just like the ones people have on television and then they wake up and go downstairs and everyone is still sitting in the kitchen, smiling at them. I hate those moments more than anything. False hope is one of the cruelest emotions we are capable of.

Tomorrow is another day. Who knows what it will hold. If nothing else, hopefully it will be a middle of the road kind of day.

The Pendulum Swings

I have been reading old letters and cards my mom had given me over the years. Everyone made fun of me being a packrat. No one is laughing now. I have them all and I cherish every single one of them. Some of the letters are hilarious, some are sad and others just simply say hi, I miss you and I love you. Pretty much the one thing they all have in common is that she tells me that she is proud of me and that she loves me. It is two things I will never hear from her again.

About a month before she got really sick and passed away she had left me a voicemail that said nothing other than “It’s me mom, just calling to say I love you.” That is it…nothing more, nothing less. Just simply saying “I love you”. I wish I would have saved it. I would give anything and everything to have it back. Once again…figured there would be more voicemails in the future.

I think about the last 14 months with her. I think about her illness and I think about the time before she got sick. I think about everything over and over and over. I don’t try to. It just happens. It is not like I get up in the morning and think “let’s relive everything again”. It just happens. I think I keep searching for a different ending somehow. Even though I know it is not possible. It is like those books I read when I was a kid, if you choose this turn to page 36 or if you choose that turn to page 45. Then the story would continue for a few more pages and then you would have to make a choice again. I always read every page ahead so then I knew which choice to make. I knew the correct choices because I cheated. I was always afraid of the unexpected, I guess. So I would rather cheat than take my chances and hope for the best. Still do to this day. I hate surprises. Her cancer was a surprise. Her treatments failing were a surprise. Her turn for the worse was a surprise. Her death was a surprise. It was all a horrible surprise. I think I keep going back to try to find a different ending even though I know fully well that the story ends the same, no matter what.

People still look at me and say they are sorry. Some say I must be angry because I feel robbed. I am and I do. I am and I do. I am and I do. I am angry because I do feel robbed.

I try to find the good in life, but it is hard. Very hard. I try to believe that there will be happiness, laughter and light in the world again, but it is so difficult. I know that my mom would be devastated to know that her death has broken my spirit. I honestly think that if she knew how hard it would be for me she never would have died. She would have hung on forever, once again putting herself last. I told her that I would be ok and that she should not stay and suffer because of us. I believed it at the time, I honestly did. But, now I don’t know. I am not so sure. It is so much harder than I every thought. She said she was worried about me more than the others. She said that she knew when all was said and done I would take it the hardest. She said in the end I would collapse. I told her she was wrong. I thought I was strong. I thought that I was stronger than all of this. I was mistaken. She was right. I was so very mistaken.

I lost my mom. I lost my best friend. I lost the person who made me laugh the most. I lost the person who watched out for me tirelessly even though I am an adult. I lost the person who believed in me more than anyone else in the world. I lost the person who loved me more than anyone else in the world. I lost the most important person to me in the whole world.

Just losing one person who was either your mom, or your best friend, or your biggest supporter is hard enough. But when you lose the person who was all that and more…it is beyond devastating.

The pendulum swings. Some days are better, some days are worse. Today was one that fell into the worse category. Hopefully tonight the pendulum swings back and tomorrow is better.

Pink Flamingos

Today was my mom’s birthday. She was born 52 years ago today on May 21, 1953.

We went to the cemetery today. At first it did not seem real by any means. I just could not understand how it could possibly be her birthday and I am standing at her grave. It did not make any sense. Nothing made sense. Then reality hit and hit hard. I cried a great deal. Without doubt it was the hardest visit to the cemetery to date. Every day the fog lifts a little and realness of it all becomes a little clearer. Every passing day is more of an affirmation that she is really gone. I hate it.

We left some memorial flowers and two pink flamingos. She loved pink flamingos. To her they were so tacky they were cool. Kind of like those dogs that are so ugly they are cute. Well, that is how my mom felt about pink flamingos. She always had one proudly displayed in the yard despite the looks from others. I thought it was funny. I warned her that this year there would be 52 of them in the yard…a sea of pink. Since she did not make it to her birthday…she got two instead. A pair of pink flamingos at her grave. I can honestly say that she is the only one at the cemetery with pink flamingos. Even in death she is still one in a million.

After visiting her grave we went to the casino. It was hard to be there without her. We never went that often, but the majority of the times I had been there was with her. My mom loved to try her luck on the penny machines, so we decided to go play them for a little bit for her. As we pulled into the casino parking lot and searched for a place to park we almost hit our step-dad. There he was, completely by chance, stepping right out in front of the truck. Another one of those random moments that you wonder what is the meaning behind it. We had no idea he was going there. We don’t talk much at all to him anymore. There are thousands of people up there at the casino and hotel. It is huge. And here, in the never ending sea of people in a huge parking lot, we almost hit our step-dad. Odd. Very odd.

My sister and I lost. Richard won $20. Big night of playing the high-stakes penny machines. It did not matter to me that I lost. I could have actually cared less. It was just important to be someplace that my mom had enjoyed and could forget about being so sick for a little bit. As I sat playing her favorite machine, I remembered the times we had been there before and all the laughs we had. I remember how excited she would get on her many winning streaks and how she would plot and scheme when she would be losing. We always had fun.

May 21, 2005. Her first birthday without her. Another “first” checked off on the infamous “year of firsts” when a loved one dies. Everyone who has lost a dearly loved one has warned me about the upcoming year. I knew it would be difficult, but I had never imagined it being this difficult. It is truly hell on Earth. Normally I am one of those people who brace themselves for the worst and then are able to say afterwards “that wasn’t so bad”. Well, not this time. Not even in my worst nightmare could I have imagined what life has felt like since her passing. Not even close. Time is marching on and pulling us all along with it. Kicking and screaming. Pleading to go back to a time in our lives when life was better and being denied. Instead we are being thrust into another minute, another hour, another day, another week, and another month without her. Being pushed forward violently and without care. Being pushed forward with no chance of coming back. Life is a one way ticket, not round trip. I never fully realized that before.

They say time heals all wounds. I don’t think that is true. I think time just gives you new wounds to focus on to distract you from the old ones. The wounds are still there, unhealed, but just pushed aside. Look and you will see them. We all still have them…hiding somewhere.

I miss her so much. The days are not getting easier yet. I have yet to get through a day without crying. I am still sleeping with a light on. I am still praying, but sadly I think the prayers are falling on deaf ears…or once again the answer is no.

Happy Birthday Mom. You are loved and you are missed.


Keep Me In Your Heart
by Warren Zevon

Shadows are falling and I'm running out of breath
Keep me in your heart for awhile

If I leave you it doesn't mean I love you any less
Keep me in your heart for awhile

When you get up in the morning and you see that crazy sun
Keep me in your heart for awhile

There's a train leaving nightly called when all is said and done
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-li-li-lo
Keep me in your heart for awhile
Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-li-li-lo
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Sometimes when you're doing simple things around the house
Maybe you'll think of me and smile

You know I'm tied to you like the buttons on your blouse
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Hold me in your thoughts, take me to your dreams
Touch me as I fall into view
When the winter comes keep the fires lit
And I will be right next to you

Engine driver's headed north to Pleasant Stream
Keep me in your heart for awhile

These wheels keep turning but they're running outof steam
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-li-li-lo
Keep me in your heart for awhile
Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-li-li-lo
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Keep me in your heart for awhile

fear of tomorrow

Tomorrow is my mom’s birthday. We would be celebrating it in a grand way if she were still alive. I had been planning on throwing her a huge party since she had been through so much this past 14 months. I was going to rent out a party room and have a huge party and invite all of her friends. She always hated the thought of a birthday party. My mom hated to be the center of attention, even on her birthday. For some strange reason she agreed to the party this year. That was the plan before everything went wrong. Now it will be a day of not celebrating, but a day of missing her deeply.

I found an email that she sent to me a year ago tomorrow. Last year her birthday was on a Friday and I was working in the cities. I came up to Little Falls after work and we had planned on going out for supper if she was feeling well enough because of her chemotherapy. We ended up going to Applebee’s for her birthday supper. She loved Applebee’s. All of us were there…my sister, her husband, their baby girl, my brother, my step-dad, my mom and I. No one fought, which is strange for our family.

Among the presents I gave her was the movie Dances with Wolves. She wanted it on tape since they had a VCR and not a DVD player. It was almost impossible to find it on tape. I went to a million stores that week to find it. I didn’t think I would, but in the end I did. Suncoast came through in the nick of time. I also gave her a Willow Tree Angel that she loved. It was to give her hope. Hope that she would get through this and have a birthday someday that was cancer free. That day never came. None of us ever thought for a minute that it would be her last birthday. But, once again things never turn out the way you hope. It indeed was the last time we would be together with her to celebrate her birthday. You always think there will be another…

Tonight I was going through some boxes and came across her purse. I opened it and started to look through some of the pockets. She had some photos, her Footprints poem on a wallet card from the cancer center, her license, and a bunch of other odds and ends. But, the hardest thing was seeing the grocery list from the last time we went to the store together. It was a grocery list, in her handwriting on her favorite notepad, for all the things we needed to get for Easter dinner. A dinner we never had because she was too sick. She had been fine when we went shopping earlier in the week, but a few days later she wasn’t ok. She was dying at that point but no one knew. Not even her. Easter morning she woke me up early to help her make the dessert because she could not even use the mixer, she was too weak and had trouble breathing. I felt she should have gone in to the hospital and seen a doctor. She figured it was just due to the side-effects of her treatment. She was in rough shape. She insisted that we still go to Melissa’s for Easter. I knew there was no way she could physically do it. I told her that it would not be a good idea to go. She felt terrible, but did not argue further. She knew in her heart she was too sick to go. She was so upset because she felt she ruined Easter but I told her it was fine. She then insisted that I still go. There was no way I was going to leave her on Easter, so I stayed home with her despite her protests. We did nothing but watch TV and talk all day long. She felt bad, but I could also tell that she was happy I stayed home with her. There is nothing worse than being alone on the holidays. I was alone once for Easter when I was studying abroad in college. It was a horrible feeling. I called home and talked to my mom. She was busy making the Easter dinner for everyone. She cried and told me that she missed me. I went to Easter Mass by myself and then I sat in my room and ate some Jelly Belly jelly beans that cost a fortune. A miserable Easter to say the least. I was never alone on Easter again after that.

So there it is…out of everything that was in her purse, a grocery list is what took my breath away and knocked me to the ground. A grocery list. It is the unexpected and ordinary things like a grocery list that sometimes hurts the most. A grocery list, an everyday thing that you would never think twice about, is one of the biggest reminders that they are gone. The small things add up so quickly and carry so much weight.

I don’t want to go to sleep. I know when I wake up I am going to be in a world of hurt. I fear tomorrow. And when you fear tomorrow, it makes today unbearable.

waste of a day

Today was a waste. Nothing done at all. I only left the couch to get something to eat or to get a different blanket. A day of nothing. The only things that I really accomplished today were breathing and simply existing. Wait, that is not true. I did watch the season finale of “Will and Grace” and “The Apprentice”. Kendra won on “The Apprentice”. A life changed forever with two little words “You’re Hired”. I think she would have been the one my mom would have been rooting for. My mom loved “The Apprentice”. We watched it every Thursday without fail, even in the hospital. The Thursday before she died she had me tape the show so she could watch it later. At the time she was too sleepy from the medications and knew she would not be able to stay awake for the whole thing, so she asked me to record it for her. She never did get a chance to watch it. It was weird watching it without her tonight.

Every time I thought of doing something today, it was immediately followed by the nagging question “what’s the point?”. It didn’t start out that way…I had big plans for the day and a list of a million things to do. But, as one hour melted into the next, less and less got done. It wasn’t even until an hour or so ago that I realized just how little I did do today. Waste of a day. No two ways around it.

A phone call this afternoon. “Hello” I said. “How’s your mom?” said the voice on the other end. “She’s dead.” my voice responded. Awkward pause. Silence. Nothing. Another person not knowing she is gone. How is that even possible? More than a month later I still hear “How’s your mom?”. Life and it’s sick little jokes.

I thought a lot about my mom today.

Even when you don’t want to think about things that you know will make you sad, the thoughts keep coming. The mind is never still. The thoughts come even harder the more you try to stop them. Then the mind races…not even finishing one thought before beginning the next. And the next and the next and the next. Saturday will be my mom’s birthday. Had she not died she would be 52. 52…to young to be dead. 52…an age she will never reach. She died a little over a month before her birthday. So close, yet so far.

My aunt called today to check on all of us. It is hard to talk to her family. It makes me miss my mom even more. My aunt is my mom’s only sister and also the oldest in their family. She told me a story about their aunt Helen and my mom when she was 5. I was told that their aunt Helen was a big woman…6 feet tall and had feet just as long and did not take anything from anyone, she was one tough lady. It was winter and aunt Helen was over visiting, when it came time for them to leave they went to the kitchen and were putting on their boots. As aunt Helen was putting on her boots she looked at my mom and said “I bet you have boots like mine”. My mom looked at her and without skipping a beat said “No, my boots are itsy-bitsy boots.” That is my mom. She always had a crazy comeback for everything said to her, even at the age of five. My aunt said that she could still see my mom, 5 years old, standing there in the kitchen with her hair in her little curlers and hands in her pockets taking the steam out of their aunt Helen.

Then I looked down at my niece, Isabella. I know already that Isabella is going to follow her grandma’s footsteps. She is already so much like her grandma. A grandma she will never even remember knowing firsthand.

I take after my grandma. It freaked my mom out. The things I would say, the way I would stand, my need to have a million pairs of shoes, the way I drive. Just like my mom’s mom.. My grandma died a month after my eleventh birthday. I remember a lot of the whole ordeal. She had gone in for a surgery to have her gall-bladder removed. In the surgery they discovered she was full of cancerous tumors. My grandma lived for only six weeks once they found the cancer. She never left the hospital again. She never saw her home again. When my grandma died my mom was 32 years old. Now my mom is dead and I am 30 years old. I turn 31 in two months. When my mom was diagnosed with cancer her mom’s battle with cancer haunted her. Every trip to the doctor’s office my mom was afraid she would never see her home again. She did though. We made sure she got home. My mom spent her final 12 days at home. Living with cancer is not living. Living with cancer is living in constant fear. My mom often said that had my grandma died before I was born, she would believe in reincarnation. My grandma and I were so much alike to my mom. I even have a mole on the left side of my nose identical to my grandma’s. I am the only one that has it. Strange but true.

Saturday is going to be a tough day. I am bracing myself for the worst. The thought of Saturday makes me want to stay on the couch forever. The thought of Saturday makes me want to bury my head in the sand. The thought of Saturday makes me cry. But, I know that in the end…in the blink of an eye, Saturday will come and go. Just like all the days, whether we use them to live fully or waste and squander them, they come and go before you know what happened. And then it is too late. They are gone, time you can never get back. Time stops for no one.

A lyric stuck in my head today as I was watching country music videos today on CMT. Yes, strange I know. I don’t even like country music. But there I sat…for hours…watching country music videos. It was like being in a foreign land. How is it possible for people to have sold 10 million records and I have never even heard of their name before. Odd. Very odd. Anyways…the lyric is as follows….

“If you wanna hear God laugh, tell him about the plans you made.”

So very true.

Got Milk? A true story…

Every night when I go to bed I pray to God and talk to my mom. The past week or so has been extremely hard and I have been asking her to give me a sign that she is still with us. I told her to make the sign as clear as possible and not something that I could easily mistake. Clear and obvious.

I think she gave me a sign. I think.

Today I had to do a million errands in Little Falls, which is about 30 miles from St. Cloud where I am staying with my sister. After running errands for a couple of hours the only thing I had left to do was drop off the approved rendering for her tombstone at Falls Granite on my way back to St. Cloud. Falls Granite is out of town on the way to St. Cloud. I dropped off the rendering and completed the order for her tombstone. As I was pulling out back on to the highway I felt compelled to go back to Little Falls for some reason. So I went. Not sure why, I had just come from there and I really had nothing left to do there. But I went. Again…I seem to float nowadays in which ever direction the wind is blowing. The wind blew back to Little Falls, so back I went.

On my way back to Little Falls I called my sister because I remembered that she had said that morning that she was going to go grocery shopping. I called her to remind her to grab a gallon of 2% milk (the only kind I drink) because it was probably cheaper at Cub Foods than at Byerly’s. She wasn’t planning on going to Cub, she was heading to Byerly’s. So I told her forget it and I will get it when I stopped to get something for supper when I was back in St. Cloud. It was a weird conversation…so much commotion over a gallon of milk.

So as I was exiting off of the highway back into town and I had no idea what I was doing there or what to even do. So I decided to go to Coborns, the town’s grocery store. I was kind of hungry so I figured I would get something to eat. Maybe get a box of crackers, cookies…something, anything…to justify my coming all the way back to Little Falls.

I pull into the parking lot and find a space to park. It was the only open space in the row. I remember pulling up along side an old brown car on my driver’s side. I remember it because it had a ton of bumper stickers on it and I figured that was the only thing still holding it together. I get out and head into the store.

After being the in store for about 2 minutes I got really upset. I started thinking about my mom and how we always went to Coborns together. We went all the time. All the time. My step-dad hates to shop so he would never go grocery shopping with her. I did. We would laugh and make jokes about everything. I am positive that my mom was pretty much the only person in the world who could make the grocery store a fun place to be. So the more I remembered the more upset I got and in about two seconds I was crying and missing her and mad that I came back to town and then crying some more. I was a complete mess. I freaked out and just left the store without buying anything. Coming back to town was a huge mistake. I was in the store for a total of not more than 10 to 15 minutes.

I went back to my car and there was a cart right along side of my driver’s door. Literally right along side of it. I looked at the cart and was immediately annoyed. Can’t people ever return the carts to the cart corral? That is why they are there…to place carts in…not because they are an interesting landmark to have in a parking lot. I was annoyed, then I looked down in the cart and in it was sitting a gallon of Kemp’s 2% Select Milk. I am not lying. I am not joking. I am dead serious. So I looked around thinking someone left it there by mistake when they loaded their groceries in their car. Then I realized that the car that was next to me on that side was the same car when I got there. The brown car with all the bumper stickers. Still there…had not moved. The cart was between my car and the brown car.

I just stood there looking around thinking it was all pretty bizarre.

I got in the car and called a friend and told her what happened. Told her the whole story. I told her everything that happened and that I thought it was a sign from my mom. She agreed it was pretty strange and she thought it was a sign from my mom as well.

Then I started the car and left. I felt bad about leaving the milk. Really, really bad. I felt like I should have taken the milk with me. But, it wasn’t technically my milk. I did not pay for it. But, maybe it was a sign from my mom. Granted an odd sign. But, if you knew my mom, it is totally something she would do. She had a thing about me and milk. She was always concerned about me not having milk. My step-dad would only drink 1% milk. I would only drink 2%. No big deal. I just bought my own milk. Every time…and I do mean EVERY TIME we went to the store she told me to check the fridge and see if I need milk. When I had to go the cities for something I would call on my way back home to see if she needed something from town as I passed through, again she would tell me to pick up milk. She always made sure I had milk. And it had to be the Select kind of milk. She did not want any of us to have the kind of milk with the added hormones or whatever is in it.

Once in high school I was busy with school, had play practice every night and would run with friends in my free time. I was not home much. One night when I came home late I was hungry and went to the fridge to find something to eat. I opened the door and my mom had put my photograph on all the milk cartons with a note that said “Missing Child. If you see him tell him to come home soon because his mom misses him and loves him” I think I still have it somewhere, packed away. I should look for it. Anyways…I got the message and was home more often after that. So there has always been this great attention on milk.

After driving around for a while, crying and missing my mom, I decided that I should have taken the milk and I went back to the parking lot. If it was still there I was going to take it. If not, no bid deal. It was still there. All the cars around the cart and milk are different though. Clearly everyone has come and gone and either not noticed the milk or did not care about the milk. So I took it. I took the gallon of Kemps 2% Select Milk. I put it in my backseat and drove away. Not thinking about what I would do with the milk now.

I called my sister. She thought I was crazy and that I should have left the milk alone. I thought she was crazy. Another conversation with her about milk that too much commotion.

I did not know what to do. So I went to the cemetery. No lie. I drove out to the cemetery in the rain with a gallon of milk in my backseat that appeared in a cart outside of my driver’s door. While at the cemetery I was thinking about my mom and about life. I started to remember about when we were little and she was a divorced single mom trying to make ends meet because she could not count on my dad for support. I remembered the times when she simply had no money and she had to literally dig for change around the house to get a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread. Sad but true. She always found a way to feed us, we never went hungry. But, I know there were times she did. Looking back now, I think she went hungry many times. She went without so her kids could have. She always put us first, never herself. Never. Then I started to think that maybe the milk was forgotten by someone who is going without. Maybe it belongs to a single mother who had to count her change to buy. Maybe it belonged to someone who was just like she was. That upset me a great deal as well.

So I head back to the car, crying in the rain, and I go back to Coborn’s. I get out of the car and get the milk from the backseat and walk into the store and go to the courtesy desk. Which in all honesty…I don’t know why it is called a courtesy desk…the ladies who work the counter are the farthest thing from courteous. Before I can even say a word the cashier takes the gallon of milk and starts to ring it up. I tell her that I am not buying the milk, but that someone probably accidentally left it in a cart in the parking lot. She looks at me as if I have two heads and asks me to repeat myself. I do. She gives me a puzzled look and is gone with the milk. Done deal. I returned the milk. It was the right thing to do. After 45 minutes of discovering the milk, leaving the milk, taking the milk, going to the cemetery and returning the milk…the saga was over.

So there it is…a sign from her? Who knows for sure? I like to think it was, despite what anyone has to say. The whole thing was so bizarre. Why did I go back to Little Falls when I was already on my way to St. Cloud? Why did I decide to go to Coborn’s of all places? Why did I randomly pick that row of parking spaces? Why? In my 30 years of life I have never had anyone leave behind groceries in a cart next to my car. Although at Coborns, many years ago, someone once did dump off a puppy and it’s food, toys, dishes, shampoo, collar, leash and medicine in my backseat while I was getting stuff for supper. But, that is a whole different story for another time. So dogs…yes…groceries…no. And if it had been anything other than milk, I might not have even thought anything of it. Had it been pork chops, carrots or bread I would have never thought twice about it. But the fact that my mom was always so concerned about me and milk and I had just had that bizarre conversation with my sister minutes before finding it, and even stranger, no cars had come and gone around me…all seemed to add up to something more. All too much of a coincidence for it to really be a coincidence. I think it was a sign. At least I hope it is a sign and I am not losing my mind for real. But, in the end, even if it really wasn’t a sign from her, it made me think of her and remember some of the things she did for us growing up. I remember the times she gave up so much so we could have. And most importantly…I felt connected to her again…if only for a little bit.

So there it is…the soon to be infamous “milk incident of 2005”.

And to my mom…all I say is…

Thanks for the milk mom. I honestly don’t think I will ever see milk again and not think of you. But most importantly thank you mom for all you gave up so we could have. I love you…wherever you are. And keep the signs coming, we will all be watching.

435 days of prayer and one month later…

Today marks one month since my mom’s death. One month. Not sure if it sped by in a blur or crept along at a snail’s pace. Depends on the moment I was asked, I guess. Even as I sit here now I can’t make up my mind. Always in a state of indecision. When did that happen? I was never this indecisive before. Now I am. I am sure it is all part of this horrendous experience. Someday I hope to find myself again. For now, I am lost and I have no idea where to even start looking.

Today I went to her grave and thought about the day she died. I thought about the moments leading up to her death, the death itself, and the aftermath. It was not easy. But, I suppose part of the whole journey is facing the demons and the moments of darkness. I just kept looking at her grave asking myself “how did it ever come to this?” I had not thought this would have happened so soon. I believed with all my heart she would be cured. That we would find something, somewhere, somehow that would cure her. I figured we would beat this together and she would be with us well into her old age. I realized today at her grave that she will never grow old. Her hair will never gray. Her skin will never wrinkle. She will never age. She will always be 51 years old. There will be a day when I am old and gray, but that day will never come for her.

I prayed for 435 days straight for a cure, a second chance, a miracle. I started praying for her to be healthy again and for a cure the day the doctors discovered her cancer on February 6, 2004 and I prayed right up until the day of her death April 17, 2005…435 days straight. 435 days of prayers…thousands of prayers said by myself alone and it wasn’t enough.

I still pray every night, they are just different prayers. I pray that she is in heaven and that she is at peace and that God gives my family and me strength.

I remember the moments before her death…I remember her restlessness and her agitation. She could not find peace or comfort no matter how hard she tried. Her breathing was hard and labored, due to the fact that she was probably getting some sort of infection in her only remaining lung. Finally she had a moment where she was able to sleep. I did the same. It was the only moment of sleep in so many hours because she had been up the whole night before. I was sleeping on the floor next to her bed…not a deep sleep by any means since I had only been lying down for about 15 minutes or so when I realized she was not breathing hard or coughing. The silence was deafening. My eyes immediately flew open and I leaped up to her side. She was still alive, but not able to talk. I grabbed her hand and held tightly to it, her rosary was in her other hand and my other hand was over her heart. I kept trying to get her wake up and talk to me. I kept calling out “mom” over and over and over. I said “I love you” and called out “mom” again and she took two deep breaths and was gone. My world went black. I kept trying to find a heartbeat, there was none. My sister came down from upstairs and checked for a pulse, there was none. All I could say was “oh my God” over and over and over and over. oh my God, oh my God, oh my God in a terrified and hysterical voice. My brother woke up and was devastated. My sister was crying hard and my step-dad was checking for a pulse saying there was none and she was gone. It was the most horrific moment of my life. I never thought she would go in the morning. For some reason I was convinced she would go at night, she was always so much sicker at night…it just seemed to make sense. This was the moment that we had been warned about, we knew it was coming eventually and yet it took us all by surprise and left us in a state of shock. She died at 10:20 AM.

My sister had to call Hospice to notify them that she was gone. I could not do it, I was crying to hard…unable to speak. We were told it would take an hour and a half for the nurse to get there. While we were waiting for the nurse to get there I sat next to mom’s bed and just kept looking at her. It did not seem real. She looked like she was still sleeping. I held her hand, even though she was dead. I kept waiting for her to squeeze my hand, letting us know we were all mistaken. She never did. I stayed in the living room, I did not want her to be alone. Crazy, I know. While we waited for the nurse to get there I played three songs. One was “Step by Step / I Will Follow” by Michael W. Smith, it’s a song my mom loved and listened to non-stop the 14 months she was sick with cancer. The second was her favorite song of all time, “Hooked on a Feeling” and the last song was “Into the West” by Annie Lennox.

Once the nurse got there she notified the funeral home to come and get her body. Then there was more paperwork and forms to fill out. So many decisions to be made. Finally the funeral director arrives at 1:30 PM or so and it is time to say the final goodbye. We each say our goodbyes to her. I hold her hand one last time and kissed her forehead. They have to put her on a stretcher that goes into the hearse so I helped to lift her off the bed and onto the stretcher. They handed me the pillow that she had been laying on. It was still warm. I thought, in a moment of desperation, that somehow we were all mistaken again…how could her pillow possibly be warm if she was dead? Nothing seemed to make sense. As they zipped up the body bag I thought was going to lose my mind. But, I knew that if I did not see it for myself, I would never be able to fully accept it someday. So I watched, I prayed and I cried. I will never forget it. Then I walked with the stretcher though the house, helped them out the door and help place her in the hearse and watch it drive off down the road. When we went back in the house there was a red rose lying on her bed. The funeral director left it and none of us noticed. I will never forget walking into the living room and seeing her favorite flower, a red rose, lying where she had just died. It stopped me dead in my tracks. I just stood there crying for the longest time.

The weather the day my mom died was beautiful. It was warm, sunny and blue skies for as far as the eye could see. It did not make sense. She had just died. It should have been miserable outside…it should have been cold, raining, storming…anything but beautiful. Nothing seemed to make sense.

Then it came time to make the phone calls. I tried to call a lot of people, but just could not do it. I hung up on a lot of people after just a ring or two. It took all my strength to just stay conscious. I did not have the strength or the desire to talk to many people at all. I called a few people and asked them to pass along the news of her death.

I left that house that day and never stayed there again. I have gone back to collect her things but it is so hard being there without her. I stand in the kitchen and wait her to yell from the living room for me to come and sit with her and talk. I sit in the living room and wait for her to come from the kitchen with her orange ice cream float. I walk through the house and expect to hear her typing away at the keyboard, sending emails to loved ones. I am at the house and I wait for her to be there. But she isn’t there. She will never be there again. I don’t ever want to be there without her.

A part of me died along with my mom. 10:20 AM. April 17, 2005. One month ago today.

remember

Tonight was the finale of “Everybody Loves Raymond”. It was one of my mom’s favorite shows. She was sad when she found out that it was the last season. She did not live long enough to see it end.

My mom watched the reruns every night at 9 PM and at 9:30 PM. She would wait to take her medicine until after Raymond was on because it made her sleepy and she would be mad if she missed the show. Even in the hospital we would watch Raymond, twice a night, every night. My mom was never much of a TV fan until she got sick with cancer. She had liked a few shows here and there before she got sick…”I Love Lucy”, “Golden Girls”, “Cheers”, “Newhart”, “Green Acres” and a few others. But everything changed when cancer struck. There was not much else for her to do other than watch TV because the surgery and chemotherapy were so difficult. She never complained, she just watched her TV shows. It was an escape from the real world. She could just watch her shows and not think about being sick. She was like a living TV guide…she knew what was on TV at all times of the day and night. She used to tease me for being a TV junkie when I was younger. Now she could tell me everything that happened on ”The Apprentice”, “Survivor”, “Dharma and Greg”, “King of Queens” and of course, “Everybody Loves Raymond”. Her favorite character was Marie, the mother. She was my favorite character as well.

The show was difficult to watch. In the show, Ray had a close call with death of sorts. Watching the scene at the hospital where they thought he wasn’t going to make it through the operation brought me right back to my mom’s surgery to remove the cancerous part of her lung. For as long as I live I will never forget the surgeon coming into the waiting room, an hour and a half after the surgery was supposed to be done, and simply saying “I’m sorry, there were complications.” My heart sunk. Everything went black. I thought my mom had died in the operating room. I was convinced my mom was dead. “Complications.” Complications is a word you never want to hear when a loved one is in surgery. After what seemed to be eternity, in reality a few seconds, the surgeon went on to tell us that she lost the whole lung because of the unexpected bleeding and that there was nothing they could do. She was still alive. There had just been “complications”. She was alive but without her left lung instead of only losing part of it. Even now I wonder why the surgeon did not start by saying something like “she is ok, but there were some complications” or “she is resting now, but there were some complications”. Why, if only for a second, let us believe she was gone? That second is a second I will remember for the rest of my life. Tonight a lot of bad memories were triggered by that scene. It was tough to watch, to say the least.

It seems that just about every show I watch lately someone is dying, or almost died or is coming back from the dead. TV is not the escape from real life it once was.

My brother came over today. He talked about mom for quite a bit. I just listened to him, sharing in his grief. He told me how he will just be going along in the day and then it hits him out of the blue and he is overcome with such sadness and sense of loss. I told him I understand, because I really do. I have those moments often. He talked about how sad he is and how he feels robbed in life. Again, I agreed…I’m standing right beside him, I know how he feels. I feel terrible for him, because I know how difficult it is. How raw and overwhelming it is. How endless the grief and sorrow seems right now. But, I am also glad that he is feeling something. He has the eerie ability to not acknowledge difficult things and never deal with them. I am so relived that he feels something. He is taking steps towards healing and that gives me some peace and hope. I am not sure about my sister. She never was one to deal with things on an emotional level for most of her life. But, now she does when it comes to her daughter, but that is it. I don’t think it has hit her fully yet. I fear for her when it does.

Last night I read, for the millionth time, a letter my mom wrote to me when she was in the hospital. While she was writing the letter, she had started to have the pain in her foot from the blood clots for the first time. While she was writing the letter, the end was truly starting. A few minutes after she wrote the letter and gave it to me I had to explain to her that she was dying and there was nothing they could do to save her. When I look at the letter, it takes me right back to that moment in the hospital. The morning of April 1, 2005. April Fool’s Day. A day without laughter for us. I remember everything about that moment. I remember what we were wearing. I remember how we were sitting. I remember her saying how her foot felt weird, kind of like it was falling asleep. I remember taking off her booty and it was starting to turn blue and her saying that she wondering what was going on. I remember looking at her and asking her if she remembered the doctor talking to her about it two days before. She did not remember at all. She asked me what was happening. I remember that moment, frozen in time, realizing that she really did not remember anything about it. I remember my heart breaking and feeling nothing but sadness. I remember crying so hard and she could not figure out why. I remember trying to say the words “you are dying” and nothing coming out but silence until finally they came out and everything stopped. The world stopped spinning. I remember her putting her head down and crying, telling me that she did not remember the doctor telling her that. I told her that I don’t blame her for not remembering, who would want to remember something like that. I kept crying. She comforted me. How in the hell does that make sense? I should have been comforting her. Even in her darkest moments she was the mom and I was the child. Her strength is second to none. In all, she would be told three times that she was dying. Each time, not remembering the times before or not fully understanding. She refused to believe that she was dying. She wanted to be with her family…plain and simple. She wanted to live.

As I read the letter…it all came back to me…again and again and again. This is just one moment out of many. These moments haunt me. I can’t shake them no matter what I do. These moments bring me, a grown man of 30 years, to my knees and renders me speechless and crippled. These moments knock me breathless and leave me in a pile on the floor. These moments are burned into my soul, they are a part of me forever.

Tomorrow marks one month since her death. One month…one year…eternity…it is all the same when you are without the most important person in your life. Tomorrow will be spent at the cemetery.

It is like a horrific nightmare but only worse…I am not sleeping. There is no way to wake up, it is real.

I miss her so much.

Words

I am at a loss of words. I try to express how I am feeling and everything gets jumbled up. I open my mouth and nothing comes out. I know how I feel, but yet I cannot verbalize it. Words trip me up and tie me in knots. My tongue stumbles over my thoughts. Words silence me.

For the first time in my life, I truly am without words. But, my tears speak volumes.

runaway train

I thought about too much today. I thought about life before my mom died. I thought about life since my mom died. I thought about what life will be like in a year, two years, and ten years from now. I thought and I thought and I thought. I am tired of thinking. I am tired of not thinking. I am tired of being awake. I am tired of sleeping. I am tired of pretty much anything and everything. I am tired of life. I am tired.

I thought about all the good times I had with my mom. I thought about her death and what it was like for her in those final moments. I thought about every fight we had and how there are so many things I want to take back. I thought about all the holidays and how she won’t be there to celebrate with us ever again. I thought about her birthday that is coming up a week from today. It is weird to have a birthday when you are dead. But, now she has a birthday and a dieday…the two bookends for one’s life. I thought about my birthday that is coming up and how it will be my first birthday without her. She is the only person who was ever there for every single birthday I have ever had. I have never had a birthday where I did not spend at least some part of the day with her. Not one. She is the only person on the planet who was always there. Not even my dad can lay claim to that title. I thought about what it will be like to do the show this summer without her. I thought about if I really ever would do stand up comedy again. It is hard to laugh when your world is gray and sad. The laughter died when my mom passed away. No joke. I thought what it would be like if my brother ever gets married and how our mom won’t be there for it. I thought about how I can’t really talk to her, despite the fact that I try to every night when I go to bed. I thought about how I have lost the most important person in my life. I thought about all the other people I would have rather seen go than my mom. I thought about how people experience the exact same thing I am going through right now. I thought about how some of them figure out how to survive and thrive and how others shrivel up and die. Sometimes I think I could go either way…still sitting on the fence. To my left light, to my right darkness. Fall which ever way the wind blows hardest. I thought about Isabella and how she really won’t ever know firsthand how much her grandma loved her. I thought about how the world truly is a darker place without the light of her soul. I thought about how angry at the world I am. The anger is beyond rage at times. I see happiness and I want it destroyed. I thought about how if I am hurting, the world should be hurting. I thought about how proud I am of myself for just getting out of bed each day. I thought about how I should really only think about things one moment at a time. Baby steps. Then I jumped to a thought about the next 50 years without my mom here. I thought about my family and all the pain they are in. I thought about how she was too young to die. I thought about people who lose babies and how they think the same thing. I thought about people who lose loved ones in their 90’s. Too young. Death is never easy…no matter the age. I thought about how the only certain thing there is in this world is death. I thought about how death is one thing we all have in common…no matter age, sex, race…birth and death is something we will all experience. I thought about how people ask how you are and they don’t really care. I have decided that the next time I am asked how I am…I will answer truthfully and blow their mind. How am I? I am terrible. I thought about where I have been and where I am going. Right now it feels like I am going down a dead-end road. I thought about God and how there has to be more to our existence than just the few years we spend on this planet. I thought about how if there isn’t anything more than this…I don’t want to find out until it is too late and I am already dead. The thought of being here for no real reason is the most frightening thought of all. It would mean that everything is in vain. All the hardships, the good times, the sorrows and the joys are in vain. I thought about all the people who have come and gone in my life. I thought about all the friends I have made and all the friends I have lost. I thought about all the people who did me wrong and those who I wronged. I thought about when I was little and she bought me an Atari and I was so excited I cried and cried and had trouble breathing. I thought about how my mom wanted to have a movie night at the hospital and watch The Terminal and have popcorn with all of us. I thought about all the times my mom went without so us kids could have. I thought about how she had a hard life but never complained. I thought about how she would do anything for her kids…she would even die for us. I thought about a boss that I had who was in his mid-40’s and who’s mom had died years earlier and how he said he was never the same again and how he still misses her. I thought about the shows my mom came and saw even though she was really sick from the chemotherapy. I thought about how my mom believed in me. I thought about how she believed in me more than I often believed in myself. I thought about how this is truly the worst thing that could ever happen to me. I thought about how if I can somehow get through this, I can get through anything. I thought about how much I loved my mom and how she is gone. I thought about how no matter how much I think about the past I can’t change it. I thought about my mom hugging me and telling me that she loved me. I thought about how it will never happen again. I thought about how I don’t want to ever need another person again for as long as I live. I thought about my mom telling me she will be with me always.

These thoughts come like a runaway train…barreling down the tracks, smashing through everything in it’s way. It doesn’t matter what I do…the thoughts keep coming. I think I have thought about life too much today.

friday

The world is still gray…literally. The outside world and my inside world are still gray. It is true…misery loves company. Everyone I know is miserable and tired of the weather. Cold, rainy, gray. The weather doesn’t really bother me. When you are miserable inside, the outside doesn’t matter. So we are all miserable together, but for very different reasons. Doesn’t matter though. Like I said…misery loves company.

Today I picked up the renderings for my mom’s tombstone. A few minor changes and it should be good to go. I think it will be a beautiful tombstone. The front has at the top the phrase that reads “Laughed Often, Loved Much” with a hummingbird at each end and then carvings of some hearts and roses with her photograph in the middle, below is her name, date of birth and date of death and at the bottom it lists “Loving Wife of Dennis”, “Beloved Mother of Jason, Melissa, Jeremy”, “Precious Grandmother of Isabella” and “Cherished Mother-in-Law of Richard”. The back has a carving of an Angel at the top right hand corner surrounded clouds with rays coming down to Jesus looking up at the angel in the bottom left hand corner and then part of the “Footprints” poem with her last name at the bottom. It actually is a very beautiful design. I think she would be proud of it. I hope she would love it.

Tonight while going through some boxes, I found a scrapbook she had made as a kid that she saved. It was filled with cards given to her. Birthday cards, Valentine’s Day cards, Easter cards. Cards from her mother and father, her brothers and sisters, and her friends. I also found some report cards from when she was in school. There were also some drawings of hands that her and her nieces and nephew did when they were little. My mom was the youngest in her family; her sister was the oldest…by 17 years I think. So her nieces and nephews were more like younger brothers and sisters. One of the hand drawings was of my cousin Randy, who I never knew because he died when he was a child because of leukemia. I think I will give the drawing to his sister, Connie. I know if my brother had died I would want it. Hopefully it doesn’t upset her. Maybe I will ask her first if she wants it…so it doesn’t take her by surprise.

It is kind of like a treasure hunt sorting through the old boxes, you just never know what you will find. It is interesting to see what people keep because it means something to them. I think she kept every single drawing, card and letter that us kids ever gave her.

Every time I discover something of hers I miss her even more. It is just another reminder that she is gone. I want to save everything. Not very rational, I know.

Someone left a suggestion in the comments that I get the book “Angel Catcher”. It is a journal that you write in to help you remember a loved one that you lost. The book was created by Kathy and Amy Eldon who’s son/brother was murdered. I ordered it and it arrived a couple of days ago. I cried as soon as I seen it. I could not even open it right away. Then last night I finally opened it and read through it before going to bed. I cried and cried and cried. I don’t think I even fell asleep, but rather passed out from exhaustion from crying so much. Just the things that are written in it to help you bring up certain memories triggered so many emotions. I am glad that I have it to help remember my mom by, but I know it is going to be a tough journal to do. But in the end I know I will be glad that I did it. Nothing worth having is ever easy. Now, I just have to work up the courage to write in it.

So there it is…another day down. Cross another day off the calendar. Not as bad as yesterday. Praying that tomorrow is a little bit better than today.

Uncharted Territory

Today was a tough one. To be honest. Really tough.

I just want to crawl in a hole and escape. Not die…but escape. I know this will pass…somehow, someway, someday. Call it faith or denial…take your pick.

I spent most of the day trying not to think. No lie. It is really hard to try not to think, but it can be done if you think about it hard enough. Crazy, but true. I would just sit there…not talking, not remembering, and not thinking. The time went by…sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. But it went by and that is the important thing.

I left the house once today because my sister had to go to the store and needed help with Isabella. I would have never left otherwise. I would have stayed in bed, under the covers…avoiding everything. I am still staying at my sister’s house. I don’t know when I will return to my apartment in the cities. I don’t trust myself to be alone. Honestly. Not that I am suicidal or anything…because quite honestly I am not…I never have been in my entire life. But, because I don’t trust myself to not break down. I am worried about being alone. When I am alone the grief is unbearable. My mind races from one thought to the next…reliving everything. Every conversation, every feeling, every moment. It is scary at times. The image of her dying haunts me when I close my eyes. So I can’t be alone. I don’t want to be with anyone either. Catch 22. At least at my sister’s house I have distractions. I am not able to dwell on anything for too long because Isabella will break the silence with her laughter, or the phone rings non-stop, or the dogs bark and cause a riot. So here I stay…for now. I am in no rush to venture back into the world. Everything will be there when I am ready to return. Even though I have an apartment I feel homeless. Strange. I lost my sense of home when my mom died. Quite honestly…I will probably feel homeless now for the rest of my life. That is just how I am. Actually, I lost pretty much everything when my mom died. Every day that goes by since she died I discover more things that I will miss and just how much I have truly lost.

Rain. Cold. Miserable. That was the world today. The outside world matches my inside world.

Another day with nothing done. That is becoming the norm…sad but true. The “to do” list keeps growing and growing and growing…nothing crossed off yet. I guess it will still be there tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that and the day after that…

The clouds have rolled in. The forecast is not good…rather bleak indeed. It is going to be stormy for awhile. No word on when it will pass. I hope to see the sun shining again. I really truly do.

Fleeting moments happen every now and again where I think I will somehow survive this and I will be ok. Then just as quickly as they come they are gone again and I am left in darkness. I am not giving up by any means. I never would. I just want a break. I want the world to stop spinning for a moment. I want time to stand still. I want to put everything on pause.

I feel like a blind person who has been dropped off in a foreign land and doesn’t know the language. Things are more strange than familiar, but still recognizable. I know where I am and that I don’t want to be here, but I don’t know how to leave. I know there are people around me, but I don’t know how to communicate with anyone. I know that I am not in any real danger, but I don’t feel safe either.

The biggest fear my entire life was my mom dying. That is it. My biggest fear wasn’t my own death, or being betrayed, or fire, or drowning, or spiders, or not finding a job, or financial ruin, or being alone for the rest of my life, or anything else other than my mom dying. My mom dying is the fear that would cripple me beyond belief, the fear that would literally take my breath away and leave me stunned. It was the fear that would keep me awake at night in a state of panic. My mom dying was the worst fear I ever had. It was the fear that made my soul cry. I was terrified when I was studying in Europe or living in New York that something would happen to her and she would die and I would not be able to get to her in time. I have carried that fear with me for 30 years. Now it has happened. My worst fear has come true. My worst fear has happened and it is a thousand times worse than what I ever expected. It is impossible to imagine anything in the world making me feel as terrible as this ever again. Now I feel like I truly have nothing more to lose.

Lost. I feel so lost. Lost. No other way to describe it. Lost. I am looking for a map, a compass, a trail of crumbs. I am looking for anything and everything. Lost. I am searching…

promises made

Tonight I watched reruns of The Golden Girls. It was one of my mom’s favorite shows. We used to watch it years ago when it originally ran and then we watched them all over again when they started to re-air. I always told my mom that she was Sophia because of all her crazy antics, wisecracks and schemes. My mom would say I was the male version of Dorothy because of my sarcasm, lack of patience and my need to be the boss. Watching the show tonight made me realize just how much my mom and I were like those two characters. The tight bond, the close relationship, the understanding of one another and the devotion to each other. I would have done anything for my mom and she would have done anything for me. We picked each other up when the other was down. We stood next to each other…supporting the other one when times got rough. And we laughed at each other’s stupid jokes.

My mom would always joke around and tell stories in the style of Sophia. Instead of…”picture it…Sicily…1929” my mom would say…”picture it…Hillman…1961” and launch into some hilarious story from her past. I miss those moments. My mom was quite the comedienne. She would say the funniest things I have ever heard. Her timing and delivery was impeccable. She was a natural. She did not try to be funny, she just was. There is a big difference between the two, trust me. My mom was a riot, no doubt about it. She could reduce me to tears of laughter with just a look and one sentence. But, she also hated to be the center of attention. Hated it with a passion. To have such and outgoing and hilarious personality and yet hate attention is rare…very rare. My mom was an interesting person to say the least.

I got an email from one of my mom’s best friends. She said that my mom told her that her biggest fear was that when she would eventually die I would be so consumed with grief that I would just crawl into the casket and die as well. My mom knew me well. Very well. I don’t know how I go from day to day. I honestly don’t. I think the only thing that keeps me going is knowing that my mom wants me to go on. My mom would have been devastated to know that her illness and death stopped my life. My mom had a lot of guilt as it was that I did as much as I did for her. She said that she was so lucky that she had the family she did and that she did not deserve me for a son. I told her often that she was crazy. How could I not do everything I possibly could do for her? How could I not help her? There was nothing she could have asked me for that I would not have done or even if I couldn’t…I would have found someone who could. If you love someone…isn’t that what you just do…if not for any other reason than because you love them? It seemed crazy to me to not help. I have never understood people who can help others and won’t. Truthfully, I did not think I was giving up that much for what I was getting. I was getting to be with my mom. We had always been close. But the time we spent together gave us a chance to really connect as adults, to see each other as a person who has hopes, dreams, failures and fears. So I did not go to every movie I wanted to see. So I did not hang out with my friends much. So I did not get to cross off a lot of things on my “to do” list for the past 14 months. So I did not get around to painting my bedroom and bathroom. So I did not go on a trip. So I did not do all the shows I wanted to do. So what. Now at the end of the day…all that stuff remains but my mom is gone. Glad I did not waste that time doing it. I am so thankful that I chose to take that time to be with my mom. I am so thankful that I was able to help her when she needed help, that I was able to be there to listen to her, that I was simply there to sit on the couch with her and watch reruns of The Golden Girls. I would do anything, give up everything…to just have one more minute with my mom.

So I go on…one moment at a time…second by second…trying to figure out how to survive the next minute. I made my mom promises about my life after she would be gone. We talked about the future even when she had none to look forward to here on Earth. She knew if I promised her something I would never break it. She made me promise that I would continue to follow my dreams. She made me promise that I would not only try, but would lose weight. She made me promise I would continue with the show we were planning for this summer. She made me promise that I would watch out for my family and that we would stick together no matter what. She made me promise that when it comes to my step-dad and step-siblings that I will just let them be and go our own ways…she was so worried about me going after them after she was gone. My mom was good with forgiveness…I am not. It sounds so cliché…all the deathbed promises. But, it really isn’t. If nothing else, I am a man of my word. If I promise someone something it is carved in stone, written in blood, tattooed on the soul. A promise is a promise…no questions, no breaks, no way out. I am still here because of the things I promised my mom. I am still here because of her. She was a smart woman. Had I not promised her, things would be very different today. Very different. She knew. Mom’s always know.

So to my mom…all I have to say is…thank you for being a friend. I love you.

Wheels Spinning

I don’t know. I just don’t know. Confusion seems to be the norm right now. I have the attention span of an infant…if that. I have lost count how many times I have stopped in the middle of the room, not remembering if I was coming or going. Left, right, up, down, east, west, north, and south…which ever way the wind blows…is where my mind goes.

The only constant in the chaos of my mind is my mom’s memory. Every little thing triggers a memory. And I do mean everything. A crayon on the floor reminds me of the time my mom was cleaning and bent down to pick up a crayon and her back went out for over a week. Eggs in the refrigerator remind me of how my mom would make the best eggs ever. The seat cushion in my sister’s van reminds me of the time my mom had me take her to the store to get the fabric and foam so she could sew my sister a cushion because she was worried about my sister’s back. Hearing the word cancer reminds me of the call I got at work on February 6, 2004 from her telling me that they just found a tumor and she has cancer. Seeing my family reminds me that my mom is gone and can’t be with us. Everything seems to have a memory tethered to it. It is hard to move forward when the past surrounds you. It is hard to move forward when the past consumes you. It is hard…

Each night I still talk to my mom. I have yet to make it to the third sentence in the one-sided conversation without crying. The tears usually start to fall by the time I tell her that I pray and hope that she is safe and happy. I am 30 years old and I cry myself to sleep. I am also still sleeping with the light on. At least the nightmares have stopped for now. I don’t remember anything when I wake up. I figure it is probably better that way…so no complaints. I guess I am not as strong as I once thought I was. Learn something new every day.

I know I am not alone. My mind repeats that fact a thousand times a day. My heart refuses to listen. My heart knows different. As far as my heart is concerned…I am alone and always will be. The eternal battle between good and evil rages in one’s own body.

I miss her. Every day I miss her. I wish I could talk to her. I wish I could hold her hand. I wish that I could hug her. I wish I could tell her that I love her. I wish…

Nothing. Nothing is what I get accomplished each day. Every little task seems so monumental. Still working on the thank you cards, still working on cleaning up her stuff, still working on pre-production stuff for the musical, still working on connecting with people, still working on putting one foot in front of the other. Still working on…but no progress is made. None. I am failing. Trying to take baby steps at least. Baby steps. I am starting to feel like Bob from “What about Bob?” All I need a goldfish in a jar hanging around my neck. Crazy but true. Baby steps.

In life…I struggle to understand. I fight to figure it out. I find a way to make the most of what is. I fight, struggle and thrash around like a fish out of water and then in a brief moment a switch flips in my mind and the chaos clears and the clouds part and I understand. My mom was the same way. Our minds were created from the same blueprint. She and I were more alike than anyone ever knew. They say when your personality is too close to someone else’s you fight and clash all the time…well, our personalities were so terribly close that we never fought. One in the same. A thin line. Very thin.

So I guess I will fight and struggle and search for a way to deal with her death. I will It will probably take longer than I expect. But when the switch flips…


Goodbye
by Natalie Imbruglia

Every day’s the same, I feel them merge
I try to separate, resist the urge
But they tell me I’ll be fine
That it will all get better
Just try to write it down
Or put it in a letter

But the words won’t play
And there’s no easy way to say
Goodbye, goodbye

Keep my head on straight and don’t look down
With all I’ve pushed away I’m losing ground
But they tell me I’ll be fine
That it will all get better
Just try to write it down
Or put it in a letter

But the words won’t play
Cause there’s no easy way to say
Goodbye, goodbye

And from the sidelines
Watch me fall down

And I don’t understand the things I do
But I’ll probably be fine
As long as I keep moving
I’ll try to write it down
So things just keep improving
Still the words won’t play
Cause there’s no easy way to say
Goodbye, goodbye

gray

Gray. The color of the world when a loved one dies. Gray. Not even black and white with many shades of gray. Just gray. Simply gray. Like the gray of a storm cloud. Not just one gray cloud in a blue sky, but rather a sky filled solid with gray clouds. Nothing but gray for as far as the eye can see. No breaks, no cracks, no rips. Just solid gray. This storm is going to stay for awhile.

I find that my whole thought process has changed. It is hard for me to concentrate on anything for more than a minute or two. My brain jumps like a train from track to track. A train without a conductor. A runaway train with no control. Thought to thought…completely random without any control.

The memories come like a raging river that has broke through a dam…flooding everything in it’s way. Memories of good times and bad times. Memories from early childhood to things that had happened only a few moments ago. Most of the memories are of my mom. Others are of my grandparents and other family. Some are of days gone by when times were great. Others are of their deaths and the aftermath. The flood comes and pulls me under.

It is hard for me to talk to people. It is hard for me to listen to them complain and whine and piss and moan about being late for work or how they are tired or how bad their life is because they hate their job or whatever. I just wish they would disappear. I wish my biggest problem for the day was being stuck in traffic for an extra 10 minutes. Seems like a breeze compared to going through the death of a loved one. Petty. People can be so petty. I just want to say to them if your life is that tough…that miserable…just go and disappear. Leave us who are trying to rebuild our lives and figure out the next step in peace. I see everyone’s lips moving, but I hear nothing. Sad thing is…I used to be one of them. Before my mom was diagnosed cancer, every bump in the road I had, no matter how small or tiny, was a crisis to me. Every minor setback or nuisance was the end of the world. Every annoyance I had needed to be shared with the world by being sung in the chorus of “poor me”. When she was diagnosed with cancer I realized that nothing I had ever gone through could hold a candle to her pain and agony. The hell she was in physically, mentally and emotionally was real. My hell was self inflicted and ultimately not real. The difference is choice. She had no choice. I had a choice. Choice. I never once complained about helping her all those months or sitting with her for hours while she was in chemo or at the doctor’s office. I knew that even at my worst state…I was miles ahead of her best state. What right do I have to complain about sitting in a chemo room with her for five hours while she is the one sitting there for just as long as me but also has an IV in her arm pumping in chemicals hoping by chance that it is killing the cancer? What right do I have at all? My step-dad complained. He complained all the time. To this day I hate him for it. I was the lucky one. I was not her. She had trouble with her IV’s. The nurses always had trouble getting them in. Her veins would roll or disappear or the IV would go bad. It was a nightmare. An honest to God nightmare. One time she grabbed my arm and looked at my veins and said a prayer that I would not have to ever go through what she was going through. She was always concerned about what I was giving up to be there to help her. Little did she know I gained so much more than I was giving up. The lessons I have learned from her and her struggle have been life changing. I was always floored at the gall of some people who would come to complain and piss and moan to her about their trivial problems. I just wanted to scream to them…open your eyes. Open your eyes. My eyes are open…now open yours. Now I realize that…I was…what I now hate.

I had some pictures developed today. There were 7 roles of film that I had found in my camera bag. I knew two roles were of pictures of the flowers from my mom’s wake and funeral. Another role was pictures of the displays we set up at the wake of her favorite costumes that she had sewn for our theatre productions. There were also a few pictures of her in the casket at the end of the wake. I don’t know why I took them. I just thought that there might be a time later on in life that I would want them or need them and would be glad that I had time. And I thought…take the pictures and just put them in a box and forget about them until that time comes. I figured it would be easier to destroy them down the line if I did not want them than live with the regret of not having them if I did want them. I don’t even know where I had the idea to take pictures to begin with. I guess it was with all the deaths before hers on television. It seems there are always pictures of the dead if you are famous. If you are a celebrity or historical figure your whole life is documented. I figured we should have her life and death documented as well. In any case I have the pictures.

I thought I would warn the guy developing the film that the pictures of her wake were on the roll. If I stumbled across them without warning, I know I would have a heart attack. So I warned him out of to be courteous. He told me that actually quite a few people take pictures of their loved one’s funeral and casket. He said it is nothing strange. I think it is strange. I did it and I still think it is strange.

Anyways…the other four mystery rolls turned out to be pictures of our family from Thanksgiving, Christmas, Isabella’s birthday party and so on. Hard to look at them knowing those are the last holidays and birthdays we had together. Even when you know they are dying, you always think there will be one more day. One more Christmas, one more Easter, one more Thanksgiving, one more birthday, one more day…just one more day. That isn't always true. There isn’t going be any more days with my mom. What we had is all we will ever have. Hard to believe. And I did come across the pictures of her funeral. The envelopes were mixed up. I had not planned on looking, but fate had other plans. I had even labeled the rolls so they would not get mixed up…but they did. Another cruel joke. I saw them. Not fully realizing what I was even looking at. Then a moment of clarity. I recognized what I was seeing and I felt numb. I quickly stuffed them back into the pouch and put them back in the envelope. Now they are safely put away…clearly labeled so there will not be another mix-up. I survived the moment, but I don’t ever want to relive it again.

So there it is…a gray day. A gray world. Gray. No color. Gray. At least I have pictures of the world back when it was in color. Pictures. Giving proof that it wasn’t always like this. Pictures. Giving hope that it won’t always be like this.