My dad's birthday

My father had a birthday this week and even though we had planned to get together as a family to celebrate over the weekend, I hated the idea of my dad being alone on his actual birthday, so I invited him to come over for a home cooked meal on his official birthday. I invited Duffy and Casey, my parents dogs, to join us as well, which seemed to make all three of them very happy.

Before they arrived, I was filled with such a mixture of emotions, I could barely keep up with all the thoughts running through my head and heart. I was excited about them coming over, sad that it would be the first time I had ever celebrated my dad's birthday without my mom here and I knew that from now on, nothing would ever be the same. I worried that I cooked more to my mom's tastes than my dad's (an over-use of garlic), I felt happy and sad as I pulled out Lucky's water bowl and some of her toys for the boys to enjoy, and worried a bit about what my dad and I would talk about since I am happiest when I can talk about my feelings and my dad is happiest when he can avoid any discussion at all of feelings.

When they got here, my dad went straight to the restroom, and I laughed to myself as I was reminded that we were both cursed with the same tiny bladder. Casey quickly made himself at home, walking on the back of the couch, up the arm rest and over to the over-sized chair next to it, wagging his tail the whole time. Duffy was not as comfortable and started to panic that he couldn't find my dad. He ran in and out of every room in a frenzy and could barely breath until he saw my dad emerge from the bathroom.

Once we all settled down on the couch for some appetizers, conversation flowed easily. Much to my surprise, my dad even talked a little bit about his feelings, without my having to pry it out of him. Well, I did start with the question, "How are you doing, dad?" and he replied, "I'm doing fine." So after a pause, I followed up with, "How are you REALLY doing?" and then he did give me a more honest answer. Casey was happy to pick up where Lucky left off in the "unstuffing process" of one of the toys and Duffy occasionally reminded my dad that he too would like to try the appetizer.

We talked about the dinner he had a couple nights earlier with my brother and sister and he mentioned they had gone to Casa Lupe, a restaurant we have gone to as a family since I was a little girl. I was almost relieved I wasn't with them that night because I didn't know if I would be able to handle going to a restaurant that reminded me so much of mom. He asked if I had been there since they expanded and I said, "Yes, I put a picture of mom and I at Casa Lupe after the remodel in my blog . . . have you seen my blog recently?" and he said, "I've never read your blog."

I flinched inside, and I wondered if the day would ever come when I didn't still want my father's approval. My father must have noticed the flinch because he offered some additional explanation . . . that he doesn't spend much time on the internet and that he isn't into Facebook and that kind of stuff. For as much as I wanted to point out there there is a big difference between showing some interest in his daughter's work and Facebook, I knew that was not what was important at that moment, so instead I grabbed my laptop, pulled up my blog and showed him the pictures of mom that I had included in my recent posts. He seemed to enjoy the pictures and conversation began to flow again.

When it was time to eat, my dad assured me that he liked a lot of garlic, so dinner went well. The boys sat at my dad's feet, hoping that he might drop something . . . occasionally reminding him that they were still there, waiting patiently for a taste of his meal. I realized how much I missed sharing food with the dog laying at my feet so I grabbed some noodles without sauce on them to share with the boys and they were thrilled. When it was time for dessert, the boys didn't chime in, so I had to sing "Happy Birthday" all by myself :-) but I managed to do alright.

After dessert, dad and I continued to sit at the table, while guzzling glass after glass of water (did I mention I overdid it with the garlic?) and talked while the boys each found a nice spot on the couch to snuggle in for a nap. My dad and I found all sorts of things to talk about, so much so that we lost track of time. Everyone seemed happy and content, so it appeared that all my pre-dinner mental swirling may not have been necessary.

At any rate, the next morning, when I got up and saw dog toys on the floor and the couch, it made me smile in a way that told me I am more ready to get another dog than I had thought. As I thought more about the previous night, I was reminded of the importance of balance . . . my dad and I found some middle ground because I softened on my desire to talk about feelings the whole time and he was less stoic than he usually is. I realized that even though things will never be the same now that my mom is gone, it doesn't mean they can't be pleasant. They will certainly be different but different doesn't have to be bad. And finally, I reminded myself that what is really important is that *I* believe in what I am doing and as long as I believe in myself, that will be enough.

Honoring My Mom

The last few weeks have been so overwhelming, it's almost hard to wrap my mind around everything that has happened. To think that three weeks ago today, I was on my way to the hospital to see my mom . . . less than a week later, she was gone . . . a week after that we were holding a funeral service for her and now . . . a week after that, it's Mother's day.

In moments, I feel acceptance of her passing, in other moments, it doesn't seem real, and in other moments, especially on a day like today, I feel her absence deeply. I suppose it will be like that for a while.

Last Saturday, the funeral mass and reception for my mother ended up being a more beautiful and more enjoyable experience than I could have imagined. The church was filled with a couple hundred people who deeply loved my mother. For an empathic person such as myself, funerals can be extremely difficult, since I literally feel what everyone else is feeling, on top of my own feelings, but much to my surprise, all I felt was the incredible outpouring of love and appreciation for my mom. It made it much easier for a "sensitive" like me.

Since my mom was someone who loved to laugh and loved to party, we wanted her service to be upbeat and full of laughter . . . and it ended up being that and more. I know my mom was pleased to see all of her favorite people gathered together in one place, sharing some laughs and enjoying each others company. I had moments of almost feeling guilty that I was enjoying myself so much, as I visited with relatives, old family friends and neighbors, and joined in the fun of sharing stories about my mom that had everyone chuckling. I kept trying to remind myself that my mom would want us to be enjoying ourselves, and that she would have been disappointed if we sat around crying the whole time.

I have been wondering how my mom will let me know that she is around. The day after her service, I went to lay down on my bed in the middle of the afternoon and heard the strangest sound. It sounded like someone was walking between the ceiling and the floor of the upstairs. Since it was keeping me from napping, I got up to investigate. After about 15 minutes, I was coming up with nothing and was about to give up but something made me open the door to the side yard and much to my surprise, I saw a swarm of bees buzzing around the door. I realized the noise I was hearing was bees actually getting into the wall and cruising around between the first and second floor.

At first, I groaned "Not again" since I just had a bee hive removed from the upstairs wall last fall, but I didn't have the energy to worry about it right then, so I decided I'd just deal with it in the morning and went to lay down in the family room. The next day, I left a message for the Bee Guy and spent the afternoon rescuing bees from inside the house because I kept forgetting about the swarm and leaving the back door opened.

I wondered why the bees came back and I giggled to myself when I remembered that when we found the hive last fall, the Bee Guy told me that they had been building the hive for about a year - and it had been exactly a year since Lucky had passed away. I joked at the time that maybe it was Lucky's way of letting me know she was around. So, since these bees arrived the day after my mom's funeral, I wondered if Lucky and my mom were playing a little joke on me.

Amazingly, before I got a call back from the Bee Guy, the bees disappeared . . . they were just gone and they haven't returned since. It seems they only stayed long enough for me to get the potential significance.

My mom was always known as "The Rose Lady" because of her incredible rose garden, so I told my family the other day that I'll know my mom has visited me if a rose bush suddenly springs up in my backyard. While the rose bush may be a bit far fetched, I am going to continue to look for signs that my mom is around.

And today was definitely a day that I wished for a sign that she was around. I wanted to feel close to her, but my emotions seemed to be getting in the way. I put on an album we used to listen to together when I was growing up, and while it helped some, it didn't help enough. It was a challenging day for sure. I never thought about how difficult Mother's Day is for people who have lost their mother. The one thing that kept ringing in my head today was how much my mom loved to laugh. My mom's brother (and my god father) gave me this picture last week. It was taken when my mom was visiting him in Japan and the picture warmed my heart because I can feel her joy when I look at this picture . . . and it made me think, maybe that's how I will feel close to my mom . . . whenever I can find a reason to laugh.