the college years

I've been reading quite a bit, on other blogs, about the beginning of the school year. A couple of posts have been about kids going off to another year of college.

Jamie went to college locally for the first year and a half and then transferred to a college about a 3 hours' drive from home. She had been planning to go a full two years to the community college near us, but was having problems with the classes they were telling her she needed versus those which she really needed. So, she decided, in November to start the next semester away at a different college. There was so much to do in a short amount of time and I was happily kept busy helping to get things ready for her big move.

When the big move came it hit me. Hard. Jim and I drove up to help her settle in. All the kids were coming back from winter break that day. She would have a brand new transfer as her roommate though and two girls who had been there as suitemates. We were the only ones in her dorm till late in the afternoon on that Saturday, so had plenty of time to help her settle in before the others showed up.

We had decided to spend the night in town just to prolong the leaving, I'm sure.
We left Jamie to get to know her new roommates and checked into our motel. Then we decided to run to a party store to get something to drink and some snacks.

That's when it began to hit us. We sat in the parking lot of this store and watched kid after kid come out with beer, and lots of it. It was obvious that there were going to be lots of parties that night. We wondered what would happen with our straight-laced daughter from here on. (She wasn't a partier then and never did become one).

The next day we finished up a few things, did a little shopping for some odds and ends that Jamie might need, took her to lunch and headed for home. The farther we got from her college, the sadder I became. When we got home I soaked in the tub and cried my eyes out.

About a week later, I heard Jim talking to a friend of ours. Her son (her only child) had gone away to college the fall before so she knew how I felt. She had sent me a card that simply said "A mom hug". So, she must have asked Jim how I was doing because I heard him say, "I think she's starting to come around. She's stopped walking around the house looking like she's lost."

I truly was lost those first weeks. But it got better. Jamie had good days and bad days. We emailed nearly every day and I printed out many of the emails, saved them and put them in a scrapbook to give her when she graduated. Some just talked about general things that were happening, some where she needed to vent about this or that. We learned to take them all in stride.

Our favorite. After what must have been a difficult day, she filled an entire email with only five words. Over and over again:

I WANT TO COME HOME!

She didn't and survived just fine!

Jamie with her proud mom and dad on graduation day!

Of course, six years later and she's not working in her field. But that's another story for another day...

changes...

The week has certainly ended on a better note than it had started on. Thank you to anyone who answered my request for prayers for guidance. I have certainly spent a lot of time praying for strength and guidance lately...

Things are better, although I'm afraid that a relationship that I hold very dear to my heart has been somewhat changed forever. I guess things happen for a reason, even if we don't understand the reason ourselves...

Yesterday was a month since my mother passed away and, oddly enough, was the first day in the past month that I did not cry. I'm not saying that I'm grieving less, but maybe just getting used to it...

Jim has been my rock. Wow! He has listened to me, he has held me and let me cry, he has tried to keep me busy. He knew that this would be so much harder for me than I could have imagined and he has just plain been there...

I think that I have been feeling better for the past couple of days. I picture my mom and dad, together at last, and I draw strength from that...

Please...

I hesitate to ask this...

I need some prayers. Something has come up that, while it is not catastrophic, is weighing very heavy on my heart and head. I don't even understand why it is happening...

I just ask for prayers for guidance in getting through this and figuring out why it is happening.

Thank you.

*Sometimes the first thing people might assume is that it's my marriage. That is not the case. I am blessed. I have a wonderful husband.

Simple Sunday

My mom and I at one of our favorite places to go for the last few years that she was well. When Jamie was in college, my mom and I would meet her at Frankenmuth (which was about midway between her college and our home) for the weekend. Jim and Jon used to go snowmobiling every year for the school mid-winter break and we girls would head to Frankenmuth. We had the absolute best time and laughed all weekend, every time we went. Jamie and I went there the week after my mom died, just for a day trip, to remember her and the great weekends we would share together.

Holidays and birthdays

My parents loved to have the family over for holidays, birthdays and, really, for no excuse at all.

I especially remember Christmas when we would wake up and excitedly see if Santa had come (I remember one year when my brother and I awoke at 4am and wondered why no one else would get up!), then have breakfast, go to church and then have our grandparants, aunts, uncles and cousins over for a big Christmas dinner.

My mom was the oldest in her family and had her kids before her siblings got married and started their families, so maybe it was a given that our family hosted the holidays in the early years. I never remember her being stressed or short-tempered by the pressure of getting the house ready, baking cookies, shopping and wrapping gifts, on top of getting the big meal prepared. This would be unlike me, who stresses over every last detail!

I cherish these memories.

My mom would have a fit about this picture! She used to wear a wig and this one was a doozy. I came across this one and the memories just came flooding back. This is the kitchen of the house I grew up in, in Warren. When we drive past that house now, how tiny it is really strikes me. It was a very small house to raise four kids in. Until they added on, when I was about eleven, my two sisters and I shared a small room. We had a triple decker bunk bed, mine being a trundle bed rolled out of sight under my sister's bunks during the day. My mom had her copper jello molds decorating the kitchen wall. I have one, put away somewhere, that she gave me several years ago. She would have been standing next to the kitchen table (it would be to the right in the picture) which stood in the corner by the windows, one next to her and the other on the other wall. Notice the gingerbread house behind her? Another Christmas dinner.

A good day.

A couple of weeks before my mom passed away, she was taken to the hospital in the middle of the night with a very low oxygen level. Her vitals were not good and she was unresponsive. We didn't think she was going to survive the night. She rallied and the next day was alert, although very confused, and in good spirits.

She knew who we were and was having no problem keeping a conversation going. She was telling stories. Now, these stories made perfect sense to her, but to us? Not so much. We think she was partly reaching back into her past and partly recalling dreams she had had.

Anyhow, I kept asking her questions. She would talk about certain people and I would ask who they were. She would talk about places and I would want to know if they were from her growing up years or ours. She started getting annoyed at me. She was talking about going to a certain house and I asked, "Which house?" She replied, "The FIRST house!" That's kind of how the conversations were going. I was careful not to correct her. If she was in her childhood, or early adulthood, that was fine. I just wanted to find out more about those times.

I guess I asked one too many questions and she turned her head away from me, rolled her eyes and said, "If I lose my mind, it will be Laura's fault!"

We laughed and laughed. It was a really good day.

A different approach...

...to my grief process.

I've been exhausted. I've had so many feelings for the past two weeks. I have to work through them myself, I know. Some of those feelings are the guilt I feel about being so frustrated with my mom in the past years. I can't change things and, yes, my mom was sometimes a difficult and controlling person. She was my mom, though, she did the best she could and I know she loved me and my siblings and her grandchildren so very much. We all loved her too. And, of course, she loved our dad and I take comfort in the knowledge that she is with him at this very moment.

I'm going to try something different for the next few days. I'm going to write about happy or funny memories of my mom. I'm hoping that those memories will help me get through this process...hmmm...I can't say a little easier, because I know that's not going to happen. Maybe just a little less difficult or painful...

I share this picture that I took of my mom when I was about seven. We were just being silly...

Oh, and the background to my blog, it's about the butterflies. Butterflies were very significant in my mom's life, especially after my dad died. When I see a butterfly, I think of my mom...

Simple Sunday...photos of my mom

I miss her...

Today is the first day since my mom died that I have been home. No arrangements to take care of, no family to talk to, no place to go. My sister and her husband left to go back to their home down south this morning. The past ten days (and the days before that) since she died have been unreal...crying, grieving, planning, hugging...
The memorial service was Monday evening and then family and some friends came to our house for together time and food. Tuesday morning we buried her ashes in our father's plot...where she wanted to be.

I think that everyone thinks that it's just time to move on. I can't. Not yet. All I wanted to do today was sleep. I know that's not a good thing, but when I slept I could dream of her and she was still here and could walk and could hug me and hum a little song like she did when I was a small child.

I miss her. People say, and I agree, to take comfort in the fact that she's not in pain anymore that she's with our dad now. That doesn't make it any easier though.

I miss her...