baby steps

Today I took a baby step back to normal...

The biggest connection between my mom and I was art. She was my teacher when I was younger and as my talent developed she began to live through my artwork. She stopped painting to take a more practical path in nursing. She would tell me that was her one regret and one she did not want to see me make. Once she stopped painting, she could not go back. Most people do not know that over the past few months, while my mom and I were fighting, I used art to try to bring my mom back to life. I found art classes for her to take and took her shopping to buy art supplies. As we shopped, I became the teacher. I explained the new tools and made sure she left the store with the right materials that would help bring her visions to life. My hope was that with each brushstroke my mom would form a new identity, not tied down to the pain of illness or abandonment. The night before her first class, I came over with my old and newer art box. I gave her my old one from high school and made sure it was organized to her liking. I also added finishing pieces from my art box so she had enough colors to work with (I knew her rainbow loving self would need a full spectrum of colors).

Her first day of class I was so excited to talk to her to see what she learned. We sat at the table as she showed me her exercises and said she felt like the class was too beginner for her. Her instructor even offered to let her switch to the advanced class during the summer, but like everything else, my mom was not confident enough to take this step. She asked me if I would consider taking the class with her. She thought it would be fun to do art with me again. I said it depended on my work schedule. Now I have spent the summer unemployed and everyday all I think about is how we could have been in class together...

Now fast forward to today. One of my best friends and I went to paint pottery. When my friend brought up the idea, a piece of me felt so much anxiety over the idea of picking up a paint brush again. To quote my eulogy "when I paint my hand is [my mom's] hand." Art is such a personal thing between my mom and I that my mom feared that I would not be able to paint once she was gone. To be honest, I was not sure I would be able to. I made a promise to my mom I would paint again, but the idea of holding true to that promise made me feel sick. I saw the pottery trip as a challenge I had to face.

As I worked on my piece, I felt the happiest I could feel. I heard my mom reciting different painting lessons in my head as my brush hit the ceramic. I got carried away and for a moment I felt like I was five again drawing at the kitchen table with my mom. With each brush stroke, I felt like my mom's hand move with mine. I was connected to her, a feeling I forgot until today.

I am not back to fully painting again, but today I took a baby step to fulfilling my final promise to my mom. Again to quote from you eulogy "when i paint again, my hand will be [my mom's hand] and [she] will live on doing the thing she loved the most."

Thank you for painting with me today mommy. I promise we will again soon...

Happy

I never realized how hard it is to be happy. It takes a lot of effort and if one puzzle piece does not fit the happiness will not last for long. Yesterday I can honestly say was the first day I began to feel normal. I even had moments where I would forget everything and just enjoy the moment. As I experienced those times, I would be quickly jolted out by the need to pick up the phone. There was never a day I would not share every little moment with my mom. Endless phone calls while in the car, as she would get mad at me for talking while driving. It became a game for me to keep the conversation moving so quickly that she would not notice that we were talking in the car. Whenever I had a down moment, I would think about my mom and that has not changed. I don't think it ever will.

It is a common phrase to have a hole in your heart, but that is the only way I can explain it. My mom was born with a hole in her heart. Not the metaphorical I speak of but an actual hole. In a lot of ways I feel like this is a cruel joke to show me what my mom went through her whole life. I never realized the pain she went through until now...

I know you...

Almost at the two months mark and today it hit me that things are very different from when my mom was alive. Not in the ways most would think, but in the little things. Sarah and I have put together a new show line up, shows my mom was not alive to see air. I am reconnecting with an old friend my mom never knew I was talking to again. My mom never even got to watch Glee club make it to nationals. I can continue to list but it would leave me crying and unable to finish this blog...

Throughout the exploration of these new aspects in my life, I catch myself saying "mom would love this" or "mom would hate that." As I type, I am watching CNN and the Anthony verdict and I hear my mom's voice yelling at the TV. As I watch the coverage, I find myself thinking about the fact I do not KNOW what my mom would be saying tonight, I can guess but that is it. As I watch "Switched at Birth" on ABC Family, I can turn to Sarah and say mom wouldn't watch this show because she wouldn't want to read the subtitles but who am I to say that? I can say all I want that I knew my mom and know her thoughts but through out the past two months I have been proven wrong. Her friends talk about her dancing and how much she loved to go out. No matter how hard I try, I cannot picture that Sheri. They talk about her love of the "Beach Boys." Again, not the Sheri I knew. No matter how much I "know" or actually "knew" (still having a hard time putting her in the past tense, but that is a topic for another post) my mom I well never know everything, yet I can sit here and say she would love or hate something? It took these thoughts for me to actually hear in my mind "mom is dead." Up until now, I have forced those words to not enter my mind or soul. I would say it out loud and would see the images, but I would refuse to believe it deep down. The seen cannot be unseen and I have taken that step and there is no turning back. Honestly, that thought hurts more than seeing the discoloration on my mom that day and watching my mom leave her place one last time in a bag.

As each day passes, I miss my mom more and more. I wish my mom shared the "Beach Boys" with me and her love of dancing. People are complex and you can never know someone completely, but I wish I would have tried harder when she was here...

Handwriting

I was going through some stuff today and saw my mom's handwriting on a piece of paper. As I held the paper in my hands, tears filled my eyes. Just holding something my mom held now has so much meaning for me. With this piece of paper in my hand I had an overwhelming feeling. How did my mom handle all of this and how am I suppose to take over? My mom had a strength like none other and when that strength started to weaken it was a sign of bad things to come. I have realized that her handwriting is a visual to what was going on inside of her. The envelope I was holding with my mom's writing was from a long time ago. The writing was nice and smooth and each letter was finished. Compare this to writing from the past year, you will find writing that is not readable and the lettering blurs together. A piece of me wonders if things could have been different if this was caught sooner...

Friendship

My mom always told me that you find out who your true friends are when you are going through a difficult time. Whenever I would make a new friend and she would meet them she would tell me honestly what she thought of them and if they would be there for me when she was gone. I know that is probably a bit weird but seeing that my mom always had her death on her mind, I think it was her way of convincing herself that I would be taken care of.

In the past month and a half, I have truly seen who my real friends are. I would not be able to survive without their love and support. Some of them are friends that were close to me when my mom passed and some are good friends from the past that have walked back into my life. I wish I could express to all of them how much they mean to me. Some "friends" have shown their true colors over the weeks and it is really hitting hard knowing that the friendship was not what I thought. Friends that were in my "best friend" category have yet to have a conversation with me since my mom's passing. How is that possible? How are you so blinded when it comes to relationships? I wish these few "friends" knew how much it hurts to not have them by me right now. It is lonely enough to lose me mom and in a lot of ways my dad, I do not need to add friends to that mix.

Even with how much it hurts to not have those "friends" when I need them the most, I remind myself the amazing friends that I have. They listen to me talk on and on about memories of my mom and let me cry as long as I need to let everything out. I love these friends more than words can express!

It also amazes me that my mom's friends have been such a source of support. I love having them share memories of my mom from before I was born. I love learning my mom loved to go out and dance and hear about her love of life. Hearing these stories makes me feel more connected to my mom and hope to hear more as time goes on...

I guess I will end with a quote from a frame a friend gave me awhile back "it isn't about where you go or what you do, but who is beside you that really matters." Thanks to those that are standing beside me!

Mommy shopping?

Yesterday was a search for a place to call home. A place where people understand the emotional stress of losing a parent. My sister, Sarah, and I went to a support group in the morning and we found ourselves sitting at a table with about 15 widows. All of them older than the age my mom was when she passed away. Every one of our new friends at the table where extremely sweet but there were a few emotions I did not expect to experience. As we were talking and sharing stories, the group members kept making comments like "keep coming we need young blood to bring up our spirits and help us realize things could be worse" and "you don't need to worry, you now have a room full of adults that can help you." As sweet as it was, it made me feel more lost. More times than not I feel this sense of pity from adults when they see what Sarah and I are going through. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE the support. Having dinners and getting advice is one thing, but there are times where I feel like I am shopping around for a new parent. I had an amazing mother that prepared me for the sad fact that she was going to die. I need support, not a new mom. The people I am close to seem to understand this but in the search for a support group I leave the room feeling extremely tired from the "mommy shopping." This lead me to a dead end search for a young adult support group. There has to be people like me out there! How can there not be a group dedicated to us? Continuing to attend groups, like the one yesterday, makes me feel alone.

Another weird aspect of the group yesterday was the fact I felt like I related to some of the things the widows were saying. They talked about the loneliness at bed time as they will have flash backs to the person that use to sleep next to them. It is weird to experience those same flash backs but not with a mate, but with my mom. I miss her so much at night...

The group also asked/assumed I had a boyfriend to help me through this. When I stated I was single the conversation quickly changed to how I needed to find someone to help me. Why do I need a man to help me? Yes, companionship would be nice but the last thing I need is a stress of a relationship. What these women do not realize is that I experience a partnership with my mom. I saw how stressful a relationship can be when money, responsibility, etc is added to the mix. I no longer have a fairy tale fantasy and I know the last thing I need is that stress in my life right now. I am too wrapped around my life right now to add someone new to that mix. I know I do not have it in me to give to a relationship what I need to right now and I wish I didn't feel like society wants to marry me off because I cannot handle life alone.

Yesterday was a weird, stressful day. Hopefully Sarah and I find our community that can help us and not leave us "mommy shopping."

The new normal...

Hello world...

I should warn you now, I am not a writer nor do I want to be (so sorry in advance for grammar errors and typos). I am just a girl looking to help others going through the same situation, as well as find those people like me. My mom passed away a little over a month ago, on May 14th, 2011 to be exact. I was 24, my sister was 19 and she was 53. My sister and I have an estranged relationship with my dad, so losing my mom was losing the world. Over the past month I have been challenged to move along in my "new normal" and have not had much success. I am a person that relies on facts and proof and no matter how hard I search there is no fact or proof that will show me my mom is still with me or that she is watching over me. All I have is my faith and too be honest that hasn't been enough. So that has lead me here...

The name of this blog "Over the Rainbow" is named for my mom. She loved rainbows and I feel it represents where I am right now. Rainbows cannot be touched only viewed from a far, just like my mom now. Like a rainbow, I do not know where she is or when she will appear (if ever) I just have to work through the storm hoping to find a glimmer of hope on the other side. Each day is a challenge, but like my mom, I am not afraid of that.

I have spent this past month reading books, going through therapy, talking to friends and calling every medium/psychic in the phone book looking for a quick fix and a way out of the emptiness that I feel. Every road has lead me to this point. I will use this blog to document not only the struggles but also the reasons to keep moving on in hopes I find that rainbow. It will also be a place to share who my mom was and how she lived her life. I know everyone is unique, but my mom's story has to be told and through finding my own peace I will tell hers. My hope is that others can find comfort in knowing they are not alone on this journey. I hope others reach out and find me in their quest of understanding in this madness. As cheesy as it sounds, together we will make it through the storm and land over the rainbow into our new normal.