#MicroblogMonday – Remembering

Thanksgiving is this Thursday. Some years, it sneaks up on me and others I am very much aware of it. It’s what happens when a holiday isn’t celebrated where you live (and you’ve been away from country for the holiday for most of 17 years). I think this year it has mostly sneaked* up on me. I mean, I knew Thanksgiving was coming, but I didn’t really start feeling it until just the other day and especially last night.

The night before Thanksgiving is when my grandma died. I was 14. I had wanted to stay the night at a friend’s house that night, but my mom wouldn’t let me. But that next morning she said I could go to my friends. I thought it strange, but being 14, I didn’t think about it much further. Until that evening after the Thanksgiving festivities had ended and my mom told us the news. We ended up leaving to my grandparents house the next day.

I remember that I didn’t have my school work with me. We were reading Great Expectations in English class. I remember Perrin (4 years older than me) taking me and my siblings to a truck stop for hot chocolate while we were in my grandparents’ hometown. He had taught me how to play pool that summer. And I had a huge 14 year old girl crush on him. (It would never ever be anything more, because he was a proper Mormon boy.) I remember seeing my grandmother in her open casket. It was her, but it wasn’t. It was also the first (and only?) time I’ve seen a dead person. I remember the dress I wore to the funeral: the same turquoise dress I wore to my 8th grade dance. (My grandmother wouldn’t have wanted me to be sad and wear black my mom told me.) I remember the last conversation I had with my grandma. She was telling me that she might get her ears pierced.

I remember.

 

*Sneaked is a correct past tense form of snuck, I googled it.

MicroblogMonday For more microposts, go visit Mel’s post at Stirrup Queens.

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Two years on

Edited: I wrote this in the morning, but only got the pictures added this evening.

Two years ago to this day, my mom died. Technically it was a Sunday and Father’s day, but I refuse to mar Father’s day for my dad. (I know my stepmom does that well enough.)

I’m still hurting and missing my mom. I still have questions about how she did things when we were kids and when milestones happened and they will still never be answered by her. I feel there is so much I never got to know about her as a person and I wish I had asked more about her life and what it was like for her growing up, even if it wasn’t always the best. But I also try to remember the things she taught me (knitting, some baking) and how we were working on our relationship in a good way. These things will never change. Some days are worse than others. But the fact remains the same, I miss my mom something fierce.

Today I am remembering her with some tears,  some smiles and a knitted and felted flower in my hair (that she made).
IMG_20130619_083737  IMG_20130619_083452
Please excuse the tear stained face, I’m missing my mom.

Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened. -Dr. Seuss

One year on

It’s been one year exactly since my mom died suddenly of a heart attack. I have many things going through my head, but what I’m trying to keep out of my thoughts is my mom because the second I think of her, I get teary and start crying. I’m not ready for that, still. I miss her very much. I miss her even more because there are so many baby related questions I want to ask, but I’ll never get to hear from her. I know my dad knows some of the answers, but not all. Nothing can replace a mom and her knowledge. I just want my mom!

24 hours later

It’s only 24 hours* later and my whole world feels like it has come crashing down. I went to work today, because I couldn’t stand the thought of sitting at home doing nothing. So, I worked and I only cried twice and teared up a couple of times.

Some of my mom’s knitting.

My thoughts are jumping around in my head, racing from one thing to the next. I can’t seem to focus on anyone thing. All I want is my mom! I’m supposed to start thinking of things for her obituary. What does one write in an obit? I’m too young to be doing this. My mom was too young to die.

I am so thankful for my family in the US. Especially my step-mom. We’ve had our differences and trying times in the past, but I do love her and I am so very thankful she is here for me, my sister and brother right now. (And my dad and little bro.) I’ve talked to everyone in my immediate family. We’re discussing what needs to be done, because it just has to be done.

I’ve sent in my signature on a self-written letter saying I authorize my mom’s cremation. It’s what she wanted and it’s what I would want for myself. So this was not a hard thing to do. It’s not the cold body that I need, it’s my mom, alive and well. I’ll have to do with my sister, brother, dad, step-mom and little youngest bro (lol, he’s taller than any of us).

We’re going to have a celebration of her life. She doesn’t want a funeral. Again, that is totally fine with me. I want to remember her in the good times and with everyone crying happy tears.

Hubby and I will be flying out Thursday morning. It’s going to be one hell of a flight (3 of them actually).

24 hours ago…

*Ok, so it is more than 24 hours now when I found out my mom had died. But I started thinking about this post right around the 24 hour marker.

My mom is dead

I got the dreaded call this evening (morning in the US) that my mom died of a heart attack today. I’m in shock, hurting, crying and in pain. I miss my mom! I’ll never get to talk to her again! She will never get to meet any of my children. We won’t get to go to Scotland together. No more knitted items from her. No more Skype calls with us sharing links of knitting stuff we like. She was too young to die. I’ll never get to do anything with her again. I want my mom back!

RIP Sabby

There are several things on my mind tonight, but I’ll only briefly mention them so I can post about the most pressing item on my mind: Sabby’s passing.

– It’s really really late (after 1am when I stared this) and I really should be in bed, but I need to get these thoughts out of my head.
– Tomorrow we have our first new home meeting and get to meet our new neighbors.
– Work is a bit stressful right now and I just wish it would go away, but it won’t, at least not any time soon.

Sabby was my kitty for almost 19 years. Even though I’ve lived in Finland for the last 12 years and away from my mom’s home for a couple of years before that, Sabby has always been mine (especially when she was in a witchy mood).

When I was 16, we had just moved to a new house across town. It was a place where we could finally have a pet that wasn’t in a cage. And I wanted a black cat! At this point in my life, I was very much interested in Wicca and Pagan ways. And all witches are supposed to have a (black) cat as a familiar. *cheeky grin* We went to the local shelter and looked at kittens. We almost left without a kitten because I didn’t see any black ones. But just as we were on our way out, I saw this itty bitty black thing in with some others. I wanted her immediately. Even if she did have dragon breath and worse yet, the breath of death! Yes, her breath was horrible! She would lick herself and her saliva would glue her fur in place. (Girls who used tons of hair spray back then would have been envious of this.) Her death-breath stayed with her for sometime, but thankfully she out grew it and was able to cleanly lick her fur.

As for her name, that wasn’t easy to come by. What do you name a black cat? I asked her if she wanted to be called Blackie? I got a blank stare. Midnight? Another blank stare. Shadow? More staring. All of a sudden, it came to me: Black Sabbath? She gave me a wink and a chirrup and that’s what she has been called ever since. Although, we’ve always called her Sabby for short. She wouldn’t have just any ol’ name, not this girl.

She had personality oozing from her. She would sleep under the covers with my sister, had a love-hate (although more love) with my brother and would hang out with me in my room. She knew whose window ledge to hop up on (mom’s) to meow at to be let in. Or if it was late at night and my mom was still awake, she’d scratch on the window by the front door. She scratched that place so often and for so long, there were scratch marks in the glass. I talked to Sabby, she was my sanity at times. She even helped me paint my bedroom door. Ok, she didn’t really help, but more got in the way, so I painted her toe nails red and purple. (I guess it wasn’t the possibly toxins from acrylic paints that killed her, eh?) One time, I was petting her from head to tail. I would run my hand down her head, continue to along back and to the tip of her tail where my hand would stop at the ending position so Sabby had to turn around to repeat the petting process. After a couple of times of this she got fed up and bit me on the nose!

I’ll miss her pissy old lady whine. But after living for almost 19 years, she definitely earned her right to talk as she please and act how ever she wanted.
I’ll miss you Sabby!

My last picture of Sabby – Sept. 2010

RIP Kantti – March 5, 2000 – July 15, 2010

Your life with us was cut much too short. We love you, Kantti!
This is Kantti’s rainbow he sent us on our way home after burying him.

Rainbow Bridge
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together….
Author unknown…