When It Doesn't Feel Like Mother's Day

When I woke up this morning it was Mother's Day, but aside from the endless stream of posts when I logged onto Facebook you wouldn't have known it in my house. My little guy is still too little to make breakfast in bed or have a gift ready for his Mommy or even to know that he should run in and say "Happy Mother's Day". He would have been coached by his Dad on all those things and undoubtedly Joe would have been very good at it. Today is one of those days when his presence is really missed.

At my parents' house after my run.

Domani and I shared a tender moment this morning when he sensed my sadness and in an exchange we have had many times over the last year he asked if I was missing Daddy and I told him yes. He said that Daddy wasn't here, but was in heaven and that he missed him too. Then, he gave me a hug and kiss and used his fingers to "make me smile" by turning up the corners of my mouth. Really, who needs a present with a kid who takes care of his mom like that. 

There were two other thoughtful gestures which made my morning. Right in the midst of my tough time, I received a personalized Happy Mother's Day text message from two good friends. They were perfectly timed and while I'm sure these two amazing guys have no idea how important their texts were in inspiring me through my day, I'm thankful they came when they did because I was feeling alone and needed the boost.

Church was uneventful and afterwards, I decided to act on my overwhelming desire to go visit Joe's mom. I was missing him and just really wanted to see her and make sure that Domani got to see her too. So, we started the 1 hour and 20 minute drive which was only interrupted by a quick stop to pick up something for lunch and a bouquet of flowers. I knew she would be surprised by our visit, but I didn't realize until I read her most recent blog post before leaving the Stop & Shop parking lot just how poignant the scene of Domani bringing her the Mother's Day flowers would be for her. We both had some tears in our eyes. It was so good to see her on this day which is difficult for a million reasons.

On the way to Joe's mom's I was still feeling down. It seemed like everyone around me whether it was in real life or on Facebook was just having a grand old Mother's Day time. What I really wanted to do was post how sad it felt to be a single mom to a toddler who couldn't really interact with you on Mother's Day. Then, it was my iPhone shuffle to the rescue. Seasons of Love came on and I sang along as loud as I could, tears streaming. I let it repeat a few times. Later on, I used the lyrics as my status on Facebook. I thought it was a way to be honest about my feelings on this day without raining on everyone else's happiness.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets

In midnights, in cups of coffee

In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strike

In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure, a year in the life?

How about love?

How about love?

How about love?

Measure in love.

(From Seasons of Love, RENT Soundtrack)

During our visit, Domani was his usual charming self. After their dog wagged his tail in Domani's face and I explained that means he is happy, Domani proceeded to stand up, shake his butt and tell us "I wagging my tail!" We all got a good laugh out of that one. He also rode the goose statue that is next to the fireplace and tried to sneak as many pretzels as he could out of Grandma's bag of pretzels. We had a lovely afternoon and as always happens it was time to go way before either of us were really ready to leave.

Riding the goose (or is that a swan?)

From Ocean County we traveled back up Route 539 to South Brunswick for some time with my parents, my grandparents, and my sister and her family. After a delicious dinner made by my Dad, I went for a 5 1/2 mile tempo run. It was refreshing and included a beautiful moment right around mile 4 when the song Seasons of Love came on my shuffle just as I was turning a corner to head downhill. The sky was open, blue, and gorgeous above me and I felt so connected to Joe that the tears just flowed as I was running down the hill. It was a wonderful release after what had been a very emotional day.

Measure in love indeed. Thankfully, I have a lot of it - both given and received.

I Am a Fragile Person

My name is Anne and I am a fragile person. It's taken me awhile to admit it, but I've finally come to realize that I'm like an egg with the tiniest of cracks. All it takes these days  is the slightest bump for all my gooey, messy insides to come pouring out.

I guess the first time I realized I was a fragile person was during my pregnancy which is funny because it also began the time in my life when I felt the most powerful. It was a different sort of fragility than I live in now. It was an exciting and hopeful fragility - and it was a hormone-induced one. Even though my husband received his cancer diagnosis only days after we discovered I was pregnant, our life then was much more overrun by baby fever than cancer fear. We had our moments for sure, but unless he told you or mentioned having to go for a chemo treatment, you wouldn't have even known what he was battling.

My fragility now is very different. It is a fragility rooted in loss with forever love as its trunk and many happy memories as its leaves. A true conundrum.

It is a fragility that makes me cry at the emergence of my son's next tooth (his first since his Daddy passed) and respond with biting sarcasm when a friend makes a slight modification to our plans to hang out. 

The messy goo in my cracked egg can pour out at obvious moments (like at the Memorial Service I went to on Saturday) or in the most unexpected time or place (like when I notice the chocolate cupcakes that were my husband's in the cupboard while packing my son's lunch). 

Sometimes it's when I get the mail or when I hear a song or when I see a TV show or watch a movie or drive somewhere we used to go or hear a phrase he used to say or see coverage of the Mets or the Giants. Well, you get the point - it's anytime or anyplace.

It's being told how cool it is that I have a MegaTouch game in my basement or finding out that The Afghan Whigs are reuniting after 13 years. It's going into Tastee Sub and not ordering a half of a #1 or into

Sansone's and wondering who the heck is going to help me finish this pizza. It's tipping the delivery guy a little extra because well, Joe used to be a delivery guy too. It's getting a dollar bill with my change and remembering how in college we stubbornly mailed a $1 bill back and forth and back and forth through campus mail.

It's Boston and Florida, London and Washington DC, LBI and the Poconos and everywhere in between. It's a Ford Bronco or a Corvette or a Scion or a Civic Si. It's any number or bars or restaurants or streets. It's every giggle from my son's mouth and every time he brushes his hair.

I'm a fragile person finding my way through each hour of each day with thousands of reminders that threaten to break me, resulting in that geyser of tears.

I'm a fragile person who finds comfort in knowing other fragile people and in accepting my own reality. I am learning that it's ok to be fragile. In fact, it has made my relationships deeper, my spiritual life more exciting, and has challenged me to relinquish a bit of the control I thought I had over my life. These have all been life changing things.

Now that you know I'm a fragile person, I ask you this favor - be mindful of us cracked eggs roaming around the hustle and bustle of life. We don't come with signs on our forehead about who we are so be kind whenever you can. Be sensitive to those who may not want to hear all the details about your wonderful, amazing husband or the grand vacation you are planning with your children and their families. And, most importantly, if we get bumped and all that gooey messy stuff comes pouring out of our egg, offer a tissue and a shoulder and let us have a good cry. It may be just what we need.

Happy Birthday To Me...Without Him

It's time to celebrate another birthday when my only wish is for one more birthday with him.

This has been a tough week. It seems like ever since Sunday it has been one "gotcha" moment after the next. Sunday it was seeing some of his favorite foods in the cupboard while making lunch for my son. Monday it was walking the streets in NYC only to be reminded of our many trips to MSKCC for treatments. Tuesday it was a meeting for work in the same place where I got that call in January 2010 - I'm in the emergency room and they don't yet know what's wrong. Last night it was the sickening moment when I realized I had lost his wedding band - the one I've been wearing since I slid it off his finger before his burial. Now it's thinking back over all the birthdays we shared together and wishing we had just one more.

While cleaning the house (he would be so proud) I happened to come across both the first birthday card he ever gave me and the last. Each sentimental in their own way. So very glad to have them now. When we were young and newly dating he took up the whole inside of the card writing to me. Last year's card was simply signed "Love, Joe". By the time my birthday rolled around last year, we had both gotten much better at speaking our love to each other every day instead of waiting to write about it in a card - a welcome shift for this extrovert who married an introvert. However, now that he is gone, I am so thankful for those cards and notes we exchanged over the years and happy for the many times he expressed in writing that which was difficult for him to say.

In that very first card he wrote what became his traditional birthday greeting to me - "I can't believe you're only two years younger than me now, pretty soon you'll catch up to me." While it breaks my heart that he won't turn 37 in one month (maintaining our 3 year age separation), I find comfort in some amazing memories - like this one from last year...

Joe had our little dude all prepared to present Mom with her birthday cards and goodies. It was my "sweetest" birthday yet and not only because my gifts included a bag of my favorite candy.

As far as I'm concerned I have already received my birthday gift this year. Around 10pm I received a call from my mom that they found the lost wedding band at their house. What lovely news and how happy I will be to slip it back on my finger in the morning.

While my birthday this year is sure to bring some tears it will also bring some precious time with family and friends and if these last two years have taught me anything, it's the importance of making the most of our moments. 

It seems fitting to end this my first blog post with something that I used on the blog I maintained during Joe's illness. I wrote it the day before he passed and it seems even more powerful to me now - "Hug your loved ones and smile at a stranger. Today only comes once." May we all live like that.