See You Later, Mom

On November 26, 2008, after a lengthy and courageous battle, mom quietly slipped away while surrounded by her loving family.

On the Thursday before she passed, I received a telephone call from my step-father because he had been in a minor car accident (no one was hurt) and he wanted me to come and get him and mom from the hospital (she was having a treatment) and then drive them both home. When I arrived, my step-father was still dealing with the police and waiting for a tow truck. I sat in the car for about an hour with mom, just chatting -- about nothing and about everything. I didn't know that would be my last real conversation with her. I've said it before and I will say it again and again, "Everything happens for a reason". What a gift I was given.

We had a Celebration of Life for mom at the Staircase. It seems most major events in my life take place there. My daughter told mom she would be a great-grandmother there. I've had various birthday parties there. I was married there. I celebrated my mom's life there.

I can't begin to guess how many songs I have sung at the Staircase. The first time mom heard me sing Cabaret, she told me that I had to sing that for her at her funeral. Of course, I told her I would do no such thing -- that would be inappropriate. She reminded me many times in the next few years of that wish. When the time came, I could not imagine standing in front of a roomful of people and singing Cabaret. I like the spotlight, but not that way. I did, however, find a compromise. I copied Liza Minelli's version to my iPod and printed 25 lyric sheets. We played the song and everyone sang along. Probably none louder than me, when I could. I know she heard it.

I also wrote something for my mom but was unable to read it at the celebration so Bear read it for me. I'd like to share it with you.

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I remember sitting next to my mom at various family weddings as I was growing up. She would groan and roll her eyes through just about every speech there was. Inevitably I would hear her mutter, “Oh my god. Let’s just get to the good stuff.” So, I won’t take too much of your time.

First, I need to explain that the ladybug is a symbol of my grandmother, it’s a symbol of my mother and I hope one day it will be my symbol.

When I was young, my mom taught me a little verse:

Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home
Your house is on fire, your children are alone

I was horrified. I asked mom why a ladybug, why anyone, would leave their children alone and at risk of danger. Mom explained that mothers couldn’t always be there for children. It was impossible. She said the important thing to remember was that moms might not be there all the time, but they were only ever a whispered “Mom, I need you” away.

And she was. I didn’t even have to whisper it and mom knew. I’d be feeling down about something and my phone would ring. “Kimberly, what’s wrong” and we’d talk.

She’s still there for me now.

When mom had her heart attack, I came home from the hospital in the early afternoon after spending most of the night with mom. I was exhausted but pretty sure I wasn’t going to be able to sleep. I walked into my kitchen and found a wooden ladybug lying in the middle of the floor. It had fallen off a pencil that was stuck on my fridge with a magnet. I took that ladybug into the bedroom with me, put it on my night table next to me and I slept.

Then, just last week, I was leaving work early to pick up mom’s ashes. I was weepy and dreaded going. My car is red and it has a ladybug vanity licence plate. I stopped at a stop light and saw a woman in my review mirror approaching my window. I put it down a bit and she said “Oh my god. A ladybug. How very perfect. How it suits you. All the best to you and your family.” And she walked away laughing and going on about my ladybug car. And I felt better.

Yeah. She’s there for me.

I had a lot of trouble writing these words until I remembered that when I was growing up, I was never allowed to say good-bye to my mom. If I did, she’d say “Don’t say good-bye. Say, see you later”.

So, I love you mom and I’ll see you later.

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I love you mom and I'll see you later.

CH Morning Dive

Last night at 11:00 pm, The Perfect Man boarded a plane for Brazil and was scheduled to land around 8:30 am. This morning, I woke up and turned on the news. The first thing I heard, was "Coming up, we'll tell you about a plane that went down in Brazil killing 190 passengers."

WHAT???

Okay, calm down. What are the chances? No, this can't be. Please god, this can't be. Wait, I don't believe in god. Why don't I believe in god? Please, please, please, this can't be.

Then, finally, the segment came on. They didn't give much more information on the segment other than that the plane hit a gas station and there were bodies strewn everywhere.

WHAT???

What flight number? Where did the flight originate? How many Canadians on board? Was The Perfect Man listed as one of the survivors? Oh wait, there were no survivors.

NO SURVIVORS!!!!

I ran to the computer and went to American Airlines and punched in the information for his flight.

Status: on time

But would they put online that the plane had crashed? Probably not. My god, why don't I believe in god?

I googled "Brazil plane crash" and the first hit was a story from 2006.

C'mon!

I finally found the story from today and learned that it was a flight to Sao Paulo and The Perfect Man flew to Rio.

{{{slump}}} Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Unclench fingers. Stop biting lip. {{{ouch}}} Blood. Where did that come from? Ahhhh I'm feeling a little lightheaded.

I realize that my relief pales in comparison to the grief that must be felt by those that loved the ones who actually died in the crash in Sao Paulo. My heart goes out to each and every one of them.

Bradley James

My nephew passed away on Friday due to complications from a heart transplant he received the previous Wednesday. Tomorrow is his funeral and I have the impossible task of offering comfort to his mother.

BJ was 28 years old.

How do you tell a mother that there is any justification in losing her son at that age, at any age?

BJ had heart problems from the time he was a baby. His doctors kept telling, first his mother and then him, "Don't do this because you could die" and "Don't do that because you could die". When BJ got older, he told his mother that he would be happy to die a young man who had done the things he wanted to do and who had experienced life rather than die an old man who had spent his life sitting in a chair by a window.

I know that's the right attitude and I know I should be happy that he had some time to experience life and that he lived (and died) the way he wanted.

I know I should be happy. But I'm a mother too and I know Sonia is wishing for the man sitting in the chair right now.

BJ, you were loved and you will be missed!

Premature Evacuation

In a post called Life? With Harry, I told you all about our ghost and said that he had "moved on".
I think I was premature in my assessment.

One night after that post, The Perfect Man and I were home watching television. Our cat Winnie was on the couch with The Perfect Man and Stealer was stretched out on the floor. Winnie suddenly sat upright like he was....er....spooked. He bolted off the couch and almost ran into Stealer, which spooked Stealer.

Just as all of this was playing out, The Perfect Man said, "Hey, where did that cold draft come from? Did you feel it?"

Welcome home, Harry!

Life? With Harry

In a previous post, I touched on the fact that The Perfect Man and I lived with a ghost. The new house we moved into was owned by a single family since it was built in 1964: Harry, Lily and their three children. Harry passed away in the summer of 2005. I think he took care of Lily while he was alive because she suffered from Alzheimer's. When he passed, she went to live with her daughter and the house was put on the market.During the house buying process, we were fortunate enough to meet Lily and her daugther and son-in-law and they are lovely people.

Shortly after moving into our new house, four events occurred which lead us to believe that Harry was still around:

1. The day we got the keys, we went to our new home and ran through all the rooms, laid on all the carpets and generally acted like fools in our joy of joint home ownership. While there, I closed a kitchen drawer no less than three times. The first time, I hardly noticed. The second time I mentioned it to The Perfect Man, and the third time, I was slightly creeped out. Neither of us had opened that drawer at least two of the three times.
2. After moving into the house, I took my coat out of the front closet. Hanging from my pocket (on the outside) was a bottle of watermelon scented shower gel with a hook for hanging over the shower spout. Neither one of us had ever seen the shower gel before nor did we ever use shower gel. Neither one of us could explain how it got there.
3. I let Stealer out of the house one morning. It was very cold outside so I only left him out for five minutes. When I went to get him, he didn't come to the door. I tried five minutes later and shook his treats to entice him to come in. He meowed when he heard the treats rattling in their cannister. But he meowed from inside the house. I was the only one awake at the time.
4. Before we installed a programmable thermostat in our home, The Perfect Man and I had to manually put the thermostat up and down. Up when we wake, down when we leave for work, up when we get home from work and down again at bed time. I started noticing that the thermostat was already turned up when we got home from work. At first I thought we were just forgetful in turning it down before leaving for work -- except that it was at 23 degrees. We never, ever put our thermostat at 23 degrees. The highest we go is 21 degrees. When I realized it was probably Harry, I said, "Thanks for putting up the heat, Harry -- but please no higher than 21 degrees." Since then, it never did go higher.

Believe my tale as you wish; I believe it and it makes me feel good. Harry was thoughtful, playful and helpful; not threatening in the least. His actions have gone a long way to making us feel welcome in our new home.

Unfortunately, it's been some time now since we have noticed anything out of the ordinary and it's our feeling that Harry "checked us out" and has now gone to whatever place was waiting for him. Perhaps secure in his belief that his house will be as loved and cared for as when he was alive. I think he'll be back from time to time, like when he "saved" Stealer from the heating vent.

Thanks for the time together Harry!