Look at the Water- ‘Duhryo Nar’

Dear Mom,

“Duhryo nar, Tas!”  Remember you always used to say that, especially when we were crossing over the bridge?  I do. I remember it now everytime I am near water.  Your voice saying “Look at the water, Tas!”  I wish I could hear that voice in real time all over again. But what does that even mean anymore- ‘real’ time? 😦

I used to get so annoyed because usually, I was driving when you’d tell me to look at the ocean. And I would be thinking, Mom, I can’t look right now. I need to keep my eyes on the road.  But guess what? I find myself sneaking a peak now everytime I go over any bridges.  I try to take a look for you.  You were right- it’s always worth even a second to glance at. And now I remember how excited you got when you saw the water. You seemed so in awe of it and this happiness and calm would just spread all across your face as you looked over at the waves and the boats and the beauty of it.

It’s funny though, that I don’t think you were much for being in the actual water. I don’t remember you loving being in pools or even dipping your feet in sand or the ocean. But I know you did come to a few, if not all, of my swimming lessons with me (Okay, I know there weren’t many since I can hardly swim now as an adult). But I wish I could thank you for putting yourself in an environment I know you weren’t that comfortable in just to help me learn and make me comfortable- knowing you were there with me.   I wish that you had been given more time as a child yourself, and as an adult, to just play and enjoy the water and the waves and to float on the water weightless and carefree.

I live only a few blocks from the beach and seawall now, the one that we grew up near. I have to admit that I don’t go out there enough- to walk and just soak in the fresh ocean air.  But when I do, I always make sure I stop in front of the water. I make sure I look out at the ocean, and take it all in with thoughts of you. Your appreciation for its vastness, its beauty and maybe it’s connection to God and the Universe. There must be something going right if we are blessed with such beautiful nature around us, right?

It makes me feel appreciative of my surroundings but also reminds me of how small we are. How small I am.  How there is still so much I don’t understand. And how some things are really out of our control.  That feeling is both a relief and causes me fear as well.  I still want to know where you went, what the Universe’s plan was in taking you so suddenly, and who is looking after you now.  Are you a part of the wind and ocean and air?

Do you finally get to float and move around freely without pain or sadness or heaviness around you?  Are you surrounded now by your own beautiful scenes like the ocean and birds that you loved so much here while you were with us?  How do I find you amongst all of this vastness? It seems so big and overwhelming, but I know I keep looking for you somehow. I don’t think I will ever stop until I get a sure sign that you are okay. And even then, I still need you in my life somehow.  I don’t know how or in what capacity, but I do need you, Mom. And you will always be my mom. The best one I could have ever asked for.

 

 

 

Leaving Notes,… Just in Case

Dear Mom,

they-had-plans

I hate this quote that starts, “Those who died yesterday had plans.”  I know it’s supposed to make us all stop and think and go out and do all those things that we want to do before it’s too late.  Not to take life for granted as it says.  But all it does is make me ache at the thought of all the plans you had that week or ten days you were in the hospital. And how I took all of that, and the idea that you would just be here longer, for granted.

It is so painful to think that that day that you woke up and went out in the afternoon with the homecare worker to get groceries, you had no idea that this is how it would all go.  That you were going to fall such a painful and devastating fall, right outside your place and end up in the hospital. And even in the hospital, you had no idea that you were going to stay there, and never come home again. I can’t even believe I just wrote that. Continue reading

Thank you for being my Mom

Happy New Year, Mom.
I am sorry that I didn’t spend New Year’s with you last year. I didn’t know it would be my last one with you. That is something I will always regret. But I’m here with you now. And I’ve created this extra path of communication for us, exactly on New Year’s Eve, just after 12am, so I can continue to share my life with you.

Just one lifetime really wasn’t enough for us. There are so many things I still wanted to say to you and do with you. I hope you can feel them through this blog I’ve dedicated to you.

The first thing I want you to know is that I am very grateful that you are my mom. I don’t know how I got so lucky, but it was the best thing that ever happened to me.

Thank you for choosing me as your daughter, and for bringing me into this world. I love you. I still need you. Don’t ever think I don’t. I’d like you to still be a part of my life, and know that you are always on my mind and heart.

I wasn’t excited about moving into a new year. All I want to do is to go back to one year, any year, in which you were here. There are so many things I would change, and so many moments in which I would have been more present with you, if I had the chance again.

I hope this blog gives us a different kind of chance, to continue that relationship. The theme of it is called “Ever After”. I think it was originally supposed to be for weddings – haha- but oh well. The name suits the theme of what I’m trying to get across here.

This love, our connection, cannot end. I just won’t let it. My mother made me strong and gave me enough love to transcend time and space. I intend to use it on her, on you, my Mom.

Say Happy Birthday to Mama for me with a big hug and kiss attached. I hope she is taking good care of you up there.