It's coming...weekend 3.

My insides have been uneasy for the last week or two because the 1st year of so many painful first moments without her is almost complete.  Mom probably wouldn't want me to be so miserable without her, but I have been and I am.  I can cry just as hard today as I did a year ago...

I began a journey and I have so much more to share.  I'm going back to those last three weekends and those final days.

Weekend #3 landed in the middle of May, the eighteenth to the twentieth.  So much happened on this weekend.  Changes in Mom were happening even faster than the first two weeks.  Mom was thinning out, looking more sick, and she was mixing things up in her head and words were escaping her.  Mom had a super vocabulary, she did crossword puzzles every Sunday from the Minneapolis Star Tribune.  Mom would sometimes stare off over our shoulders as if she were looking at something or some one else.  She told us of dreams with her cousins and that they gave her a ride behind their snowmobile.  But she didn't go away with them...she was still with us.

Mom's room was decorated with homemade cards from all of her grandkids, cards and letters from family and friends, prayers, beautiful flowers, and chairs positioned around her bed for family and friends to spend time with her.  Saturday morning Elisabeth and I went in her room to get ready for the day and she was super excited for her very good friend, Paul, to visit.  My whole entire life and I'd never met Paul, heard of Paul, I didn't even know that Mom had a best friend, Paul, at all.  I was learning so much about Mom in this time and I even felt out of place sometimes because, being her daughter, I thought that these are maybe some things that I should have known about.....shouldn't have I?  Mom was a very private person and didn't tell many stories of her past so I was able to get over these uncomfortable new discoveries pretty easily and found the excitement to hear stories that were never told before.

We were out in the kitchen/dining room and Mom was so giddy waiting for Paul.  We got a phone call and other friends wanted to visit Mom that day too and we told them sure, that we'd love to have them.  Mom was not so happy with the newly invited guests.  She was so concerned that these other visitors would ruin her time with Paul.  I didn't know what to do, I didn't want my Mom to feel so sad.  We offered to cancel, but she didn't want those less-exciting visitors to be turned away.  Until Paul arrived, Mom was visibly bumming out.  This was new...it bummed me out too.

Her "down" attitude that I hadn't seen...ever...turned upside down when Paul arrived.  This fun, loud, flamboyant man sat down with Mom at the kitchen table and they laughed and told stories and made the whole house lighten up.  No wonder this was a best friend of Mom's.  It is a great lesson and true that it's not the quantity of friends that you have, it's the quality and Mom and Paul had that with each other.  We catered to Paul and his friend to keep them comfortable and to keep up the good company.  I didn't want it to end, I wished that Paul had come to visit my whole life, that I would have been able to meet him sooner.  Mom had a great time.  I can close my eyes as I write this and feel the smile and still smile as I think back to how I watched my Mom laugh and have a good time.  I imagine she had great times like this when she was in her twenties, getting her hair done by Paul.  He tried all of the new styles with Mom, she'd let him do anything, she was fun, open-minded, and a blast to have as a friend.  Paul had to get going and the "other" company came.  Mom hardly talked.  It wasn't that she didn't like the company, it just wasn't the company that she wanted.  Too serious, too many questions, not enough fun and laughter that was what Mom wanted to be surrounded by.  They didn't stay too long, Mom was tired and it was an easy way to excuse herself...I didn't blame her.  I preferred Paul's company too.  I was learning this constant lesson from Mom that before she was so sick, it used to be so subtle, but with everything going on, her filter was gone.  Mom loved positivity and life, livelihood, comes from the positive, not the negative.

Sunday, Mom was sitting in her wheel chair in the kitchen.  I stood behind her and bent over to give her a hug around her shoulders.  She gave me a satisfied sigh...the type that lets you know that your touch feels so good.  I squeezed her and held her and I knew my Mom more than I had on Friday of that same weekend.  That moment I will hold on to in my heart forever.

After a beautiful moment of silence, I wanted to let Mom know that I was so sorry for being her little stinker.  See, I wasn't the easiest child of me and my sisters.  I don't remember that I ever purposefully wanted to upset my family or ever wanting to hurt my Mom and her feelings.  I don't remember ever doing it, but when I was little, I wouldn't let anyone but my Mom hold me, I bit, spit, screamed, and threw temper tantrums.  I hear the stories and they haunt me to this day...as if I did it on purpose and I still have the stigma.  It's quite exhausting coming from everyone else, really it is, but Mom...she never held it against me.  Despite being her little stinker and needing to send me with Grandma Ruby for a break, Mom loved me so much.  She strived to educate me, keep me happy, let me have fun, and sometimes I heard a story, she left it to those early years and didn't let it define who I'd become.  While I was standing there, I remembered the story about my 5th birthday party.  It was beautiful April weather and Mom had a party planned for me.  We woke up the morning of the 28th and the ground was snow-covered.  I cried.  I don't remember this...at all.  Being a mother and knowing how bad my heart hurts when I can't make things right for Gwenyth, I knew how bad Mom felt that April morning.  So, standing behind her, I told her that I was sorry for crying on my 5th birthday and that I know that she did all that she could and that I appreciate her and all that she did for me.  I remember in the 7th grade that I had a dentist appointment on a game-day for volleyball.  Mom drove so fast to try to get me there on time.  We got there just in time to play for a few serves.  I was so bummed out, but remember feeling bad for being frustrated...I knew that Mom did everything she could for me that day.  I thanked her for that moment too.  I apologized for any moment that it seemed like I didn't notice, but I did and I remember them.  She grabbed my hand that was holding her, rubbed it and gave it a squeeze.  She gave me a smile and she landed her head on mine.  Love....and love is all I felt.

Leaving that day was hard.  There was so much to take in plus...my wedding was coming up and I had so much still to do.  I didn't want Mom to worry about my wedding, I didn't even know if Mom would be at my wedding, I didn't know if she'd be there next weekend.  Previous "good-byes" were more private, this time Mom was out and about in her wheel chair and I fell apart in tears.  The tears were of fear.  Mom asked me what was wrong.  HA!  I wanted to say, "Mom, you're dying!  That's what's wrong!"  But I didn't want to be one of those downer types of people.  We had just had a beautiful weekend of laughter (don't ruin it, Anne, I thought to myself).  I had just apologized for all the times that Mom felt bad for the things that she couldn't control and I didn't want her to know that her sickness was the cause of my sadness.  I told her that I was overwhelmed with the planning of the wedding.  Well, kids in the car, AC running, Mom made me go to the table with her and a marker and paper in hand.  With red marker, she jotted down the left over things that needed to be done, helped me find easy solutions and said to me, "now dry those tears."  It was very hard to dry my tears because here my Mommy is so sick and again, it's one of her daughters that she is taking care of.  It was me this time and no matter whose wedding was coming up, Mom would have treated all of us the same.  Well I found the strength to stop crying to give her hugs and walk out of her sight to Dad where I hugged him and started crying all over again.

I made it to the car with my Mom's list in hand.  I looked at it for the first time, it didn't make much sense, but it didn't matter, I felt it...Love.  I drove away that Sunday, again in the opposite direction that I wanted to be.  I left with more fear than the first weekend, more fear than the second weekend, that this was my last weekend with Mom.