"Do you believe in these type of things?"I have said that to my kids a million times.
Now I can merely say "Hey, Do..." and they finish my sentence.
When I was a little girl I never really believed in much.
I was raised Jewish -We went to Temple regularly, but we never really talked about believing.
As I got older my mother made it very clear that she did not believe in heaven or hell. I also remember her scoffing at many of my beliefs, as she thought it was all craziness.
Fast forward when Nate was born. Many of you already know that his beginning was so very frightening.
And that we almost lost him at two months.
We spent days and weeks in hospitals and prayed to whomever would listen to heal my little boy. Friends from far and wide prayed and sent us things with great meaning to them. From holy water to the actual glove that the Pope blessed.
I put each and every item into Nathaniel's crib. From prayer cards and rosary beads, this Jew put them all by his bedside.
I remember my mother coming in and seeing all these items laid around little Nathaniel.
She very quickly said "What the hell is all this crap?"
And I remember my reply vividly.
I said "I must believe that Nathaniel will be okay. If someone told me that a lucky penny would help my little boy I would hold onto that penny until it wore thin."
Funny, because I think my mother understood. If I didn't believe in something, I can't imagine how I would've made it this far.
My mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's years ago. We all knew she had been slipping but she was one fierce German and she was not about to let Alzheimer's get in her way. She kindly gave her car to her granddaughter, covered in dents and scrapes, with no memory where she received them. When she admitted that she couldn't find her car in a garage I knew that was the day she needed to surrender her keys.
She did so with dignity, and not the rage I was expecting. She knew her mind was starting to go. And frankly that made her mad as hell. My mother was one tough, sometimes mean, stood her ground and lived her way, until Alzheimer's told her otherwise.
I decided early on that I could be mad at God, mad at my mom, mad at the world, because now she had become my sixth child.
I went to visit my mom more often. I weekly brought her groceries. All of her clothes, her shoes, even her moisturizer was my gift as she took care of me the past 50 some years.
We as a family chose to learn and laugh as opposed to cry and be angry.
Maybe there was a mix of denial, because my mom was going to live forever.
As the days went on I saw less and less of the woman that I used to look up to.
I am who I am because of her.
But she was losing herself, and she knew it.
She was so angry at her new normal.
I tried to make it light but there was a darkness that surrounded her every day. Years went on and the memory got a worse.
She always knew who I was and always greeted me the same.
Someone once told me that when her first grandchild was born, she was reborn. I truly believe that.
Something died within my mom many, many years ago and left her angry and bitter. But by the gift of God my children gave her great light where there was such darkness.
My kids had the best grandma in the world.
Back in the day my mom babysat every weekend so I could work.
Watched the babies if I wanted to go on vacation.
Adored my husband and equally adored each of my five children. The gift she gave me when Nathaniel was born is the gift that is priceless.
Remember when Nathaniel was born, the doctors and the nurses all noticed that he had Down Syndrome.
They all looked at me and said that they were 'sorry'.
Dan and I were in a mourning, although we knew nothing about Down Syndrome.
Later on my mom came in the hospital room to visit and meet her 5th grandchild.
Dan and I were crying, my mom immediately said "What are you guys crying about?"
I said "Mom, our son has Down Syndrome."
Without missing a beat my mother said "He's alive isn't he?"..... that's all we needed to hear as that changed the trajectory of our lives.
There was no time to feel sorry for ourselves we were the parents of a beautiful little boy.
I remembered that my parents had lost a baby girl on the delivery table years before I came along.
I saw the horror in her eyes as she had to relive that moment.
But because of that, she gave me the gift of acceptance.
Alzheimer's is a bitch.
It takes away not just your memory, but it takes away your being, your heart and a piece of your soul.
My mother once said that she 'wishes she was dead' because she could no longer live without remembering anything.
I yelled at her to stop and reminded her how much I and the rest of my family loved and needed her.
We always had her laughing and that was a gift.
Cancer has stolen so much from me.
I tried so hard to shield it from my mom. I didn't want to burden her more. She struggled enough, this was something that I could keep from her.
Seven surgeries later within a short four year time spread, I was able to keep most of this from my mom and I'm grateful that I did.
Four months ago my mom was out for a walk with one of her neighbors. She slipped yet she thought that she was okay. She complained of a little pain so I decided to take her to the ER only to discover that she had fractured her pelvis. The funny part was she kept forgetting that she hurt herself and needed to be reminded several times every hour.
And like a child she would look at me with the sweetest face and say "Well I had no idea", honestly it was the cutest thing.
I took it and sprinkled it with comedy.
My mom was one strong German bull.
She was up walking the very next day with her broken pelvis.
I got her care during the day and at night, and boy did she despise that.
She hated anyone that came over, " This is my house, leave me alone!!!" Was the standard.
She refused to take her pills and I would get a call several times a week asking me for advice. I would get on the phone, she would know my voice, I would have to threaten her but she took the damn pill.
Always fighting.
Always HER way.
God bless all those that care for those that can't care for themselves.
It was hard, it was hard for my mom, it was hard for the caregivers and it was excruciating for me.
I made sure my kids came over more often, that lit my mom up like a Christmas tree.
Nate of course would drive her crazy.
Nate is an empath.
He just tried to kiss and hug upon his grandma as much as possible. That only made her angry. I would laugh and he would continue.
All my kids had a special bond with their grandmother. Years ago they would draw on her face with colored markers just for a good laugh. My mother was an amazing sport, she loved them with everything she had.
Each child of mine carries different memories. Some remember how grandma would put soap in their mouth.
She owned 100 hats but she had to wear this ugly ass red one from the1960s every time she left the house. She looked homeless, but she couldn't care less. She lost her teeth, she lost a lot of weight, she couldn't care if she was dressed nicely any longer, but she never lost her sense of humor. Her laugh was intoxicating. Covering her face with her entire hand, the Rachel Herman way.
Five months ago I was scheduled for my seventh surgery. This blog is not about the horror of my journey, but needless to say it hasn't been pretty.
My sister and I had come to realize that my strong willed mother was going to live a long life.
We decided that we were not going to put her in a home as I had promised her that.
My sister, ended up becoming my Angel.
She and I watched my mom with the help of our caregivers around the clock.
Knowing my seventh surgery was scheduled, I had my sister there more than usual.
My girlfriend and her daughter were in for the weekend and we were having a fabulous time.
My surgery was scheduled for Tuesday, so on Monday we all went shopping.
I left my phone in my car and once retrieved there were several messages from my sister. I held my breath and called her back. She said my mom had fallen again, but she was doing okay.
My sister said she will be able to tell more by morning.
My car was headed home and at the very last second I squealed my tires and went north instead of south.
My daughter, my high school best friend and her daughter all entered my mother's condo.
There she was sitting in her favorite chair eating her dinner.
I was so relieved.
We tried to have her stand up but her screaming stopped us quickly.
Her pain was undeniable.
My sister said we really should take her to the emergency room.
It was one group effort to get my mom downstairs as we walked 1 inch at a time.
I was nose to nose with my mom carrying her under her arms.
My girlfriend out of nowhere started singing New York New York, and even danced down the hallway. Thank you Stacey for that gift:)
It's funny how gifts come, that laughter lightened that load and we got my mom into my car.
We left my mom at the emergency room with my sister and we headed back home.
My sister called me a few hours later to tell me that mom had broken three ribs.
If you can believe, my mom was up walking on her own the very next day.
The hospital was ready to send her home with three broken ribs and some Tylenol.
My sister fought and they kept her an extra day.
My surgery went as planned, and even though I was drugged out of my mind I never lost hope that my mom would be just fine.
I don't remember much of the next few days. Thank G-d my sister was there taking care of my mom.
As the days went on my mom's pain increased.
I was in such pain myself as I was just cut open again all the way from east to west.
After a few days of my medicated coma, my sister told me that our mom was in so much pain that she called hospice. She also said that I should get there as soon as I could. None of this registered, maybe it never does.
I went that Saturday and I planted myself on the sofa.
I buried myself under a comfy blanket and tried so hard to be okay.
Unfortunately my pain along with my fear was almost too much to handle.
I remember a hospice nurse coming early one morning. I hated her. For no good reason. Just because she didn't 'believe' in my mom.
I covered my head with my blanket pretending she wasn't there, pretending I wasn't hearing what she was saying.
Within a few days I started listening more.
But that doesn't mean I was accepting.
I knew my mother would be okay she was as tough as nails.
Unfortunately the nights became a nightmare.
I could barely recognize my mom's own voice. She would wail through the night in pain and so they increased her pain meds.
My kids all came to visit, I don't think they said goodbye. I believe they just told her how much that they loved her. I went in there as often as I could and said everything I thought I should. I wanted to regret nothing. And yet I'm left with nothing but regrets.
Why is that in death,
We only fear what we've done wrong, even though I know I've done everything right. I was there for my mother my entire life, 24/7 and I would still be there now if I could. I daily pray for one more day.
I truly believed my mother would be okay.
But as the days went by her coloring changed.
She talked less to me and although it was in gibberish I enjoyed it so much.
On Wednesday of that week she actually told me that she loved me. I heard it loud and clear. She also said "we were different you and me"...not exactly certain of what she meant, but I'll cherish those words.
Friday came and the nurse said that the end would be soon. Shut up and go away.
All I can think of was how moronic that nurse was. She doesn't know Rachel Marie Herman.
I do.
a few hours went by,
I laid to rest again in the front room and turned on the television. My sister came towards me and said "Holly, moms gone."
What the hell is she talking about? All I could think of was that she's ruining my Dr. Phil hour.
Gone?
Nope, moms in her bedroom.
I jumped up like a bat out of hell and went racing towards her room.
I was alone when my dad died and I was so afraid to touch him.
Actually I could barely look at him.
So this time I made sure that I kissed every part of her face.
I looked at every part of her body and I brushed her hair gently.
I told her to go in peace and to say hi to my dad when she gets there.
I sat there in shock for several hours. Nothing prepares you for the man that comes with the gurney.
Nothing prepares you to witness your mom in a bag.
Nothing prepares you.
My mother had always said she wanted no service, no nothing.
And that's what I gave her.
A small, private, yet beautiful graveside memorial with just us.
I had asked my Facebook friends to take a minute at 2 o'clock in the afternoon and be thankful for what they have.
Hundreds of my friends said they would and they would honor my mother with their prayer.
We all cried in unison as we watched my mom in her casket get lowered into the ground, and at exactly 2 o'clock the wind blew so fiercely that it almost knocked me over.
My daughter turned to me and said "You know that was grandma"... Yes, yes it was. I believe in those things..
The pain was palpable not just in my chest but in my heart.
My soul was dark and I was so afraid of tomorrow. I relied on my mom for everything and now she was gone.
I'm still in shock, Im unable to accept the obvious.
Who do I call now everday?
Where do I go every weekend?
The future seems lonely and bleak.
The following weekend was Luke's graduation from De Paul University. I was so proud of my son.
Summa Cum Laude!
I plastered on a smile and put on my Sundays best, although my heart was bleeding. The ceremony was over and we were all getting ready to leave.
My son Ben turned to me and said "Mom do you hear what's playing?" I had no idea what he was talking about.
He said mom listen to the music.
We were in a gigantic stadium you could barely hear the person talking to you 5 feet away.
We all went silent and listened.
There in the background played Moonlight Sonata.
The beautiful melody that my mother always played for my children on our piano.
I got chills up and down my spine as I knew that was my mother.
My husband turned to me and said, "I never told you but when I said goodbye to Grammy I played her that song from my phone."
Holy shit balls- start the sobbing now.
The Oprah ugly cry.
I was so grateful that my mom was there to enjoy the ceremony. I knew she would be so proud of my son.
A day did not go by where she didn't tell me how proud she was of me. She would always say how lucky she was that I was her daughter.
Funny because I'm the lucky one..
Death sucks.
I miss my mom so very much.
I've missed my dad for decades.
My mother left me with a gigantic gift, she reunited me with my sister and if possible she has me loving my children even more than I did before.
Live each day with great gusto.
I will eat that hot fudge sundae no matter what my doctor might say.
I actually light my fancy candles and I drink from my crystal.
I buy what I want, I do what I want, I travel when I want and I love deeply.
I pray God gives me a long life.
I pray that my children know that I love them every single second of every single day.
I want them to know that I am proud and grateful that I am their mama.
God gave me these 5 beautiful souls for a reason.
Daily I will try to make them proud.
I believe in signs.
I believe in heaven and I believe that we are all here for a purpose.
I believe you can take your oxygen and use it wisely or you could choose otherwise.
I believe in miracles and fairy-tales.
I believe in magic and never ending love.
I believe in myself even if I am broken.
I believe in melodies and poems.
I believe in cliches and I believe in those that walked before me.
I believe that I will laugh again.
I also believe that missing someone never really fades away.
I believe that making memories is the greatest gift of all.
I believe that my mom did the best she knew how.
I believe that she knew we loved her and that she loved us.
I believe that she can hear me.
I also believe that even though my tears may sting, that I am blessed.
I believe in it all.
I just hope that you do too.My heart is never going to heal.
I can see the sadness in my children's eyes.
How can we shield them from pain?
How can we hold them so they never fall?
I want my life back.
The mundane,
boring,
trilogy.
I want my mamma here.
I suppose that's the gift she left me.
Rest in peace my brave, fearless warrior.
Rest with your dad on one arm and my dad on the other.
Enjoy that dirty martini and that chocolate.
"How did you get so lucky to have me as your daughter?"
Hah.
The pleasure was all mine.
Thank you for allowing me to be me.
To be seen and to be heard.
Love surely never dies.
Until we meet again,
I'll hold onto your red hat..
