Religious ramblings

 As a non-believer in a sea of believers, I have struggled for years on how to express my views on religion. It has never been my cup of tea, but I try my best to respect the views of those who believe. I wish the same courtesy was given to people like me. Instead of respect, we are told that we are in the wrong and that those who have religion are the only ones who "know the truth".

Now, let me add a caveat to that statement, I have met some wonderful people in my life that hold religious beliefs and have never (or almost never) tried to change mine. They see me as a good person, not a soul to be saved. To those people, I extend my greatest appreciation. Thank you for treating me with respect and honoring my path in life.

With all of that said, I want to share a little bit about myself after finishing a book. The book is called "Living the Secular Life" by Phil Zuckerman. This book has helped me sort through the jumble of confusion that has been in my brain for years. As I look back at my youth, I realized that while I attended church and went through the motions of being a "good Christian", I was literally just putting on a show because I wanted to avoid conflict with my family. I do not remember any moment of my youth where I knew there was a deity above (or below) that would save me from this world and all of it's ugliness. I do not remember feeling the presence of any deity with me during the most painful moments of my life (in my youth or beyond). I do remember offering up prayers for the most trivial things when I was young as a way to test the validity of any deity. I also remember realizing the hypocrisy within every church I attended. (And boy did that frustrate me to no end.) I do remember the kindness of church members when my parents fell on hard times (which was the majority of my life). However, I don't know the motivation behind that kindness. Were they looking to secure a position in their version of heaven or were they genuinely good people? I will likely never know, because they have probably passed away.

While reading "Living the Secular Life" I have realized that the path I'm on in terms of a lack of religion is precisely where I need to be. While growing up, we are all exposed to the things our parents hold dear to them. For my mother, she held her religion close to her heart, though she was terrible at practicing it. If you are someone who believes in the seven deadly sins, she was guilty of gluttony. She was guilty of it in spades. She was gluttonous with food, money, and attention. She was not a good person, from my perspective. And if you think I'm being harsh, just ask my sister how awful she was. Our mother put on a good facade for people outside of our house. I remember people talking about how good of a person she was when we had her memorial service. I was taken aback at how well she fooled them all. She had a decent turn out for her memorial, even if her public persona was built on lies. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was my introduction to religion. Do as I say, not as I do.

My Dad, on the other hand, was not outspoken about any religious tendencies. Heck, I only found out about some of them after he passed away. He had a daily devotional he read. I still have it, bookmarked for the last day he read it. Not once did he shout from the rooftops how wonderful his religion was, nor did he make me feel like less of a person because I decided to follow my own path. He lived a life of humility, kindness, and care. I know the years before he pursued and eventually married my mother were likely very different, but the Dad I grew up with was a kind, caring, and loving person. He is what I aspire to be in terms of passing good from me to my children. Had I realized any of his religious leanings, perhaps my path would have been different. But I choose to take the good qualities of his personality and keep his memory alive through them. When it came to his memorial, there were few in attendance and hardly anyone said anything about him. And yet, he was the better of the two. Make that make sense.

The churches I attended in my youth were a mixed bag for me. I remember being upset that I had to attend (especially in my teen years when I realized everything I didn't like about the church), disliking the people preaching that my parents needed to tithe a certain percentage of our VERY limited funds, while we could barely feed ourselves, and the singing. Oh how I hated the singing. Now, I realize it's because the type of music played at churches is just not the kind of music that makes me happy, but back then I had not experienced Alternative, Grunge, or Metal music. It was just praise and worship music, which was performed by people who thought they were at sold out concert venues. There were positive aspects for me, like the limited socialization, the time to sit and think about things (usually during the sermon and I was thinking about the hypocrisy, but ya know...) and the time I was away from my mother, be it Sunday school or Wednesday night "kids" church. It was a break away from her. So, overall, it wasn't a super positive experience for me.

Then there was my first marriage. Yeesh. I married my high school sweetheart about a week or two after I graduated high school. At the time I was excited, but looking back, it was so foolish that I was married so young. For anyone who wasn't around during that time, I was accepted to Kansas State University starting in the fall of 1999, which was beyond exciting for me. I thought my high school boyfriend was the love of my life and I didn't want to leave him behind, so we talked about moving to Kansas together. My mother caught wind of our "plan" and demanded that we marry before moving 4+ hours away. She told us that "living in sin" was against the will of God and that no daughter of hers would be doing that. So, because we were young and listened to her, we got married before we moved. I was happy for a VERY brief time. We ended up living on our hometown for a few months before moving to Kansas and we had many fights. We just weren't meant to be, but again, we were young and didn't know any better. I remember one fight where he was leaving (because he did that a lot) to hang out with his friends and I begged him to stay home with me. He refused and started walking down the stairs to our door to leave. I had a hairbrush in my hand and I threw it after him in my absolute frustration that I was (again) being left at home and forgotten. The brush didn't hit him as we had a tarp over the access point to the stairs to keep the AC in the living areas of the apartment. But this was less than 2 months into our marriage. Had we lived together before getting married, I believe we never would have gotten married. So, yet another strike against religion for me.

There are many other stories, but I don't want to get into them. I just know, that at this point in my life, religion is not for me. It likely won't ever be for me. For many years, I said that I was agnostic with Buddhist tendencies. But after some self reflection, I'd have to say I'm likely categorized as an atheist. Sadly, the word has such a negative stigma surrounding it. It literally means without belief in a god. That's it. I'm not a devil worshiper, I just don't believe in any deities. Although, some people who only know me at a surface level, may think I am a devil worshiper based on my music tastes, clothing choices, and home decor. LOL! But, I can assure you, I do not worship the devil. I don't believe in him either. * shrug *

What I do believe in, though, is myself, my family, and my friends. I do not find comfort in "letting go and letting God". Am I a bit of a control freak? Yeah, probably. And maybe that's part of my problem with religion. I do know that when I've failed at something, I have taken blame for my part in the failure. Not every failure is entirely my fault, but I do hold a key to a portion of that failing. I also know that the majority of my successes are mine. There are people who helped me along the way, but when it comes to those successes, I will not give the credit to a deity. I will give the credit to those who where there during the trials.

I'm sure that many of my religious friends will point out that "god was there during those times". And maybe you feel that's true for you, however, I don't believe it. That's the thing about belief. We all believe in different things, in different ways, at different times. There are people in this world who receive great comfort in their belief. And I am happy for them. They found something that works for them. The problem comes, from my perspective, when any of those people try to force their beliefs on me. I am not a soul to be saved, a notch in your religious belt of souls. I am a human who has experienced a different life from you and I find zero comfort in "serving" the same deity as you.

Did you know that my oldest son was bullied in elementary school because he stood up for himself and said he didn't believe in god? Did you know that when he was in middle school, his history class looked at the general tenants of the 3 major religions on the world and then took a vote on which one they'd follow based on the bare bones of the religion? They did, as an entire class. He was the only one who didn't choose Christianity and was chastised by his classmates. He argued his point, from a logical standpoint and was still told he was wrong by his classmates. Thankfully, his teacher let him speak his peace and did not chastise him. I do not remember how the teacher handled the other students treating my son in such a way, but it must not have been terrible or I'm sure it would be in this post. With all the legislation being passed forcing Christian values on children, I fear for my youngest son and others like him, who do not blindly follow a religion.

When it comes to my own children, I have not kept them away from Christianity. They have attended church services with family members and if they've shown an interest in any religion, I have done my best to share what I know about it along with doing research to give them more information. Which, weirdly, is what many secular parents do for their children, according to the research presented in "Living the Secular Life". I do not shy away from religious discussions or ideals. If I'm somewhat versed in a religion and the boys ask questions, we have a discussion. I also promote their exploration of things they are interested in. Just because I feel a certain way, does not mean I require my children to feel the same. I think this is a far cry from my own mother, but I digress. I want my children to make their own choices and I will support them, because that is what a loving parent does.

With all of this being said, I will likely purchase my own copy of the book so I can mark it up with points and arguments that I agree with, disagree with, or require more information about. I am thankful I stumbled across Phil Zuckerman as an author who can express what I struggle to say.

One of these days

 One of these days, I promise I'll do better.

Who am I kidding? I don't make promises. And I'll likely not do any better.

Ugh. The last year was not the greatest and the last few months of this year were icky.

Status update #1: Still freaking legally married. We're at least on speaking terms now so we can draw up the papers ourselves, hash out some things, let a mediator check it over it and freaking file it. I'm so tired of explaining it. I'm tired of being legally bound to him and all of his drama. He's still trying to "win" me back. I don't know how else I can explain it to him. It's over. I'm still legally bound to him because I'm the one who has to start the proceedings, I'm the one taking care of the kids, I'm tired, and by the time I look at the paperwork (especially the finances), I'm completely overwhelmed. 

I had a boyfriend for a few months. I thought I would be a better person to be in a relationship this go-around. I was wrong. He felt no spark, after 7 months he told me he felt no spark. I don't know how much I believe him, because he was the one who pursued me, but it's whatever. He mentioned an ex-girlfriend about week before he broke it off, a girlfriend he had never mentioned before that day. Cool. 

Late last year (I think), I had a terrible time with my eating habits. I was famished all the time, so I ate all the time. The weight I had lost while in the hospital in 2021 came back, plus more. I now weigh more than I did when I was pregnant. I was doing okay-ish with my eating, then depression hit and it's been shit ever since. Mental health is such a bitch.

I constantly tell myself that I'm going to do better at eating, exercising, hanging out with the boys, etc. And each day I fail at all of those things. Each day I do the same shit over and over. The result continues to be the same, which I know it will, but I don't do shit to change it. I see a friend that has worked hard the last 3 years to lose weight, eat better, and take care of herself and I'm so happy for her. But, I wish I had that motivation for myself. I want to fit in my clothes, and yet I do so little to make that happen.

Well, here's hoping I can get a fire lit under my ass and do something about it.

Another year gone

Originally written Feb. 16, 2022

 It's been over a year since I posted last. Please, raise your hand if you're shocked. Oh wait, no one reads this except me, when I come back once a year. Oh well....

Anyway, I'm still legally married, but I have no desire to rekindle my marriage. He's asked a few times, especially since his world has started to crumble around him, to get back together. I've declined every time. What's the point of even pretending anything is different? Why get back together with someone who wasn't the right person for me, but I tried to make the right person? Why squash someone's spirit when you don't want your own squashed? I've seen my fair share of couples who do not dampen the spirit of the person they're with and if I ever find someone that I want to be with, I hope the same happens for us. I do not wish to ever be married again. Two failed marriages is enough for me. I wanted so badly to fix the person I was with, but I ended up just breaking myself, and them, a little more. 

Perhaps I am meant to be without a partner for the remainder of my days. Perhaps I am more Bohemian than I realized. I do know that traveling to England 7 years ago ignited a wanderlust that is appeased by travel to new places. Since going to England, I've gone to Arkansas, Oklahoma, Kansas, and Colorado. This year is shaping up to be a big travel year, if all goes well. In March I will be traveling to Seattle, WA. It's a dream 12 years in the making. My original honeymoon was supposed to be to Seattle, but it was all cancelled (by me) when legal troubles reared their ugly head to my betrothed. Maybe I should have taken that as a red flag. Maybe this trip will end up being the full circle moment I really need to finally sever the ties that bind and quit dragging out this awful ending to a marriage. Maybe it will squelch some of my wanderlust. In May, I will be going to Madison, WI to visit my good friend Lacey for a weekend. The boys and I will return later in the summer to visit also. Then, the other big trip for the year, if it can be planned out, will be to Virginia to see Karen and Chuck with a stop in Indianapolis along the way. Fingers crossed we can make the trip.

I really should put more effort into writing. Not to write a book, but to help me purge some of the overwhelming emotions I feel sometimes. I've been so busy in the last year that I got too overwhelmed. It could have killed me. I got COVID-19 in late August of 2021, which ended up putting me in the hospital with a bout of pneumonia on top of the COVID diagnosis. I was there for 7 days. Seven long, grueling, never-ending days. Seven days without hugging my boys. Seven days with limited contact. Seven days, most of which, I couldn't breathe without coughing. I couldn't sit up without coughing. I couldn't go to the bathroom without feeling like my lungs were going to explode out of my chest, because I couldn't quit coughing.

Time, the thief of so much

As always, I put things off and never return to them. This blog, being one of them. I make no promises that I'll do any better, because promises are broken. It's been between 2 and 3 years since I last posted and so much has happened.
My marriage is over. We're not divorced yet, but it is over. Yet another failed relationship under my belt. Yippee. He left May 4, 2019 without so much as a goodbye after a fight. It had been building for years, but that didn't make it hurt any less. I found out about a month later, he'd been cheating on me with some biker girl from a near by town. Not that I didn't have my worries during the entirety of our "relationship", but seeing it in black and white in my face was one of the worst feelings in my life.
The worst feeling of my life, thus far, was losing my Dad. He passed away October 31, 2018. I got the call around 12:15 am that he passed away. After that, I fell into a deeper depression. I am fairly certain that I was depressed after mom passed, but losing Dad was the hardest thing I've ever been through. He was always the steady one of my parents and his quiet love is missed daily. Oh, how I miss him.
I finally finished my certification and degrees. I am no longer a college student! I was offered and accepted a position at the school I have been a part of since moving away from my hometown. I am now a Library Media Specialist and I love my job more than any job I have ever had. I like to pretend that I am the overlord of the library, but in reality I do so much in my position. There never is a dull day, okay there may be occasional dull days, but they are after super busy days. :) I manage multiple budgets, order books, toner refills, find things to help teachers and just generally do what I can to help everyone in the building. It is a great position for me and I am so thankful that I have it.
Well, I am emotionally drained now and should probably go to the store for the animals.

Moving up

While I have not been back to the doctor since having my blood drawn, I have checked my test results online.  I got the swift kick I needed.  It appears I have borderline high cholesterol and possibly anemia.  Both are close to normal numbers, just slightly elevated and depressed to signal a need to focus on correcting them.  I am actually happy about it.  I think this will really motivate me to take charge of what I am really putting in my body so I can be around for my boys until they are so sick of me they can't stand it any longer.

I am also surprisingly okay with how I interpreted the results.  I am not sure if I interpreted them correctly, as I am not a doctor, nor have I trained as one, but that is okay for me.  Since I read the results I am being more mindful of what I am eating. While money is tight right before payday, I am unable to run out and buy all the good foods I need for this step. However, I am trying my best to make better choices.  As an example, I passed over the frosted strawberry Pop Tarts (my FAVORITE!) in order to eat two biscuits with a little bit of margarine and grape jelly.  My sweet tooth was fed and I feel that there are better than the two toaster pastries that are riddled with calories and other things that I am sure are terrible for me.  Yesterday I ate a salad and slice of pizza for lunch, as opposed to just two slices of pizza. I was full until dinner time.  For dinner I had grilled chicken breast, mixed veggies, and less than 1 serving of Pasta-Roni. For dessert I had one of my husband's fudge round snack cakes.  I also drank a can of Pepsi with less than a shot of coconut rum in it. After the day I had yesterday I just wanted a little something to sip on. I slept like an angel last night, which was great! I also woke up around 6:30 am feeling refreshed.  That hasn't happened in a while so I think that really watching what I'm doing with food and getting back in touch with things that matter to me are helping.

I will be initiating my fitness blog again. If you would like to read it, here is the link: http://radishingfitness.blogspot.com/ I tend to journal by hand, as it is easier to carry a journal with me than a computer.  I then try to update the blog once a week. I think this will become my Saturday ritual, because I find it easier to simply sit down, do multiple paper and pencil/pen tasks then get on with my day as opposed to vice versa.  I already have decided that my weekly "to do" lists will be done on Saturdays, as will preparing anything that needs to be mailed.  I think that adding my online journaling to the mix just makes sense.  I also need to catch up on my book blog, but let's face it. I'd rather read than write about reading. Okay. I think I am done for today, so I will sign off and begin the monumental tasks I have set before myself on this beautiful Saturday! Have a wonderful day and weekend!

Back Burner

It's been a while, as usual, everything else has become more important than me.

I went to the doctor today. Not because I'm ill, but because I haven't had a wellness check up since I was in high school. And when I say wellness check up in high school, I mean I had a sports physical. The doctor said that my visit was a welcome break from seeing sick patients, as I have no chronic illnesses, no issues or concerns. I did have blood work done, so they can check things like diabetes. I sit here tonight, an hour past my bedtime, and I fret. My mom was diabetic and my dad has been borderline diabetic for two decades. Will I be next? Will I have to re-evaluate my love of sugary sodas, candy, cakes, pastries, and the like to ensure I can live a long life for my children? I do love my children more than those things, but some days those sugary bits help me cope with being a mother. I have to wait a week to get my results and I just hope that they come back in a manner that really shakes up my own relationship with food and puts me on a track to be in a better mood because I am putting better things in my body. I've been trying to do that myself for years, but as a typical mother, I put myself on the back burner. I ALWAYS start out with good intentions only to cave to the will of everyone around me. I am not asking to be diabetic, please do not think that, I am simply hoping that this is a wake up call to stop falling into the same rut because I am needed.

I think the worst thing about being a human is being taken for granted. Very rarely do we look around us and say how much we appreciate those that are close to us, because we make the assumption that they already know. When is the last time you hugged your mom or dad near and thanked them for comforting you when you were sad, or cheering you on when you did something great? It has been almost four months since I lost my mom and every day I still expect her to send me a message, or unexpectedly call me. Every single day I am disappointed. Much as I imagine she was when I didn't do the same things I am craving right now. A friend shared a post through facebook yesterday and I foolishly clicked on it. It was a post written by a mother to her oldest child, a daughter, and explained to that child how much life changed for the mother simply by having that child. There were comments in the original post that made me tear up because I imagine mom felt the same way. I know she was proud of me, she did tell me that on many occasions. I have almost always been a good student, I am the first in my family to receive a college degree (let alone two), I played tennis all throughout high school, even though I wasn't very good. For all of those things and more she told me she was proud of me. She told me I was beautiful. And yet I never felt that I was enough. I don't know why, I just know that I always have felt that I, as a human being, am wanting. I am forever trying to prove myself to someone, but I don't know who. I always have to be right. I always have to have the last word. I love having a clean house (though you can't tell any more, kids apparently do that to you when they're at home and in your face all of the time). There are few things that I actually LIKE about myself, more or less love. I struggle daily to see what my husband sees in me and because of that I have sabotaged our relationship on more than one occasion. I don't know how people can walk around on a daily basis and simply be so confident in themselves. I am terrified of the day I am standing in front of a classroom and misspeak, misinform, or misspell a word. I am not perfect, but I am a perfectionist. You have no idea how many hours I would spend cleaning my house, if I knew it had a chance of remotely surviving everyone who lives here with me. When I had a small apartment, it was always clean. Everything was put in it's place and I could easily find it. Now, I may know where something is, but after I tell someone in my house where to find it, or go find it myself, it may or may not get put pack into place. I have tried so hard to try and let it go, because it is nothing but a losing battle. I feel like I'm losing part of myself now. I try to get rid of items, but more get brought back into the house. I try to really pay attention to where money is spent and avoid trapfalls with finances so we can be comfortable and maybe even afford a second vehicle, but there are many times where it feels like I am the only one who cares.

I noticed over the summer months that more hair than usual was collecting in the drain when I showered. I realized that I was letting stress take over and it was doing terrible things to my gorgeous hair. Being that my hair is one feature that I am quite proud of, this bothered me quite a bit. I had to take a step back and look at multiple aspects of my life to try and figure out what was bothering me so much. I figured it out, adjusted, and in a matter of a week to two, there was not as much hair in the drain any more.

My mother left this world with so many projects unfinished. So many words left unsaid. So many bridges left unattended. I know that no day is guaranteed, but I want to do my best to prevent my own children feeling the way my sister and I have felt since mom passed away. I am not hoping that my blood work comes back to say I am diabetic. I am not hoping for any chronic illness. I am hoping that when the results come back, the doctor will tell me that things are looking okay, but if I don't watch it I may not be so lucky next time. Is that so bad? Is it bad that I want a doctor to tell me to stop putting myself on the back burner and do the things that give me peace? Or do I just need to be at peace with where I am?

All apologies

I remember begin a little girl and the only thing in the world that would make me feel better was a hug from my mom. As of yesterday, May 1, 2017, I won’t be able to hug her any more.

When my ex-husband drove away for the final time in our relationship, leaving me at my parents’ house, I went inside and cried on my mom’s shoulder. I cried like a baby. It’s nothing compared to how I feel now. I remember, when I was a little girl, looking out of the east facing bay window at night in my room and thinking I saw a tornado headed toward our trailer. I was terrified so I ran through the house and woke up mom to tell her of our impending danger. She explained to me that it was no tornado, the trees formed an upside down triangle shape, much like a tornado, and the headlights of the cars were mixing with dust from the gravel road by the trees to give the effect of a tornado. She hugged me tight to ease my fears then sent me back to bed. I thought I was scared then, it’s nothing compared to how I feel now.

One of the last comments mom left me through Facebook, it is on a post about passing my tests for certification. I hope she really was proud of me.

My mom always had a way with words, especially the written word. If there was more money in writing, perhaps she would have written books.  I think I received that gift from her, at least I like to think I did. When I was on a study abroad trip in England two years ago I kept a journal about the things I had seen and done. I typed it up and posted it through the school travel blog.  She read my posts and asked me to be more descriptive with any future posts.  For my final post, I wrote as descriptively as I could.  She read it and thanked me for helping her feel like she was visiting there also.  I won’t have those constructive critiques any more.

Giving mom a kiss on my wedding day in 1999

I want to record memories of my mom, because with time, those memories will fade and then I really will have lost my mom forever.  While our relationship was not the best, she was my mom and I love her.  It may not be in the same way that other daughters love their moms, but it is my way and it’s the only way I know. 

I am a terrible daughter.  I have let too many things in my life come before relationships with the two people who made me who I am and now I will never have a chance to make it right with my mom. She will never be able to see Adam or Robert grow up. She won’t be there to cheer me on when I do well on a test, or student teaching, or teaching my first classroom. It’s all gone and there is nothing I can do to bring her back and make it right.  I cannot express how regretful I am in regard to this.  I have much pride in having few regrets in life because I felt that if I learned a lesson from something there was nothing to regret.  My perspective on that has changed in the blink of an eye.  I am learning lessons from losing my mom, but it cannot change the areas I messed up with our relationship.  I am not the only one at fault, but I scoffed at advice, smirked at words of encouragement, and was a terrible person to my own mother because I was mad and held resentment about things from the past.  When she was trying to fix our relationship I pushed her away and it’s all because I was being petty.  At the time I felt justified, but honestly, I was being petty.  I can’t change that now.  I can’t take the boys over to her apartment one more time so she can hear Robert say “Nana” or “Papaw”.  I can’t call her up and say, “Hey”.  I won’t receive any more cards from her for Mother’s Day, my birthday or Christmas.  It’s all gone in the blink of an eye and I realize how much I screwed up. 

I remember being in 5^th grade and my PawPaw (maternal grandfather) passing away.  I went to the visitation, but not the funeral because I though school was more important.  My mom supported me in my decision.  My own son has now lost his Nana in 5^th grade.  The parallelism of life can be so upsetting.  Not only has my oldest son lost his Nana, and has limited memories with her, my youngest son won’t even have memories of her because he is so young.  My sister and I share a similar age difference as my own children do and now I am so much more empathetic to how little she knew PawPaw.

Mom and dad at my first wedding, circa 1999

When mom was pregnant with my sister I remember her taking her huge red wallet and placing it on her belly.  I didn’t totally believe that mom was pregnant, so she did this to show me that my unborn sibling really did exist. After I watched the wallet move and ruled out gas bubbles, I remember thinking that mom had eaten the baby and the baby was trying to fight its way out, but I don’t remember if I ever asked mom about that.

When my ex-husband broke up with me for the final time, I was extremely upset and barely ate for days on end.  As my mom loved food, seeing her own daughter not eat was very bothersome to her.  She picked me up from work and upon getting in the van, I informed her that I was hungry. She jumped at the chance to have me eat.  She asked me where I would like to get my food and I suggested Taco Bell.  We went through the drive through and she decided to drive down the main street in town while I was eating so we could chat and we didn’t have to be at home for a bit.  While we were going down the street, I saw my ex-husband’s car and I lost my appetite.  She deflated when I put my food down and said I wasn’t hungry any longer.

When I was dating my ex-husband in high school, he had a paper that was due and asked if he could use the computer at mom and dad’s house.  Mom was typing up the paper for him.  When they went through to proof-read the paper, they came across the word “mow” in the paper.  It was supposed to be “now”.  They were both so tired at that point they read “mow” in a way that rhymed with “now” and they had fits of giggles for quite some time.  They were so loud I came out and remember chastising them for keeping me awake on a school night.

Mom learned how to play the card game Rummy from her dad, my PawPaw.  She taught me how to play the game and we even went to the extreme of learning how to play Gin Rummy to spice things up a bit.  A few years after she taught me how to play, I realized that I could see the reflection of the cards in her hand and I used that to my advantage.  I cheated at the game for a few years then randomly decided to stop doing it.  I broke down and told mom how I had cheated for so long, but had since stopped.  After that moment, mom made it a point to hold her chin high and look under her glasses at her cards to prevent me from cheating in the future. 

Mom and I played Scrabble occasionally, but we didn’t follow all of the rules because we would look up words before we put them down.  In one of those instances, after a long day and game, one of us came across “ngwee”, which is a monetary unit from Zambia and a valid scrabble word.  From that point forward, when one of us wanted to play Scrabble, we used “ngwee” instead.

I was in a program called Upward Bound when I was in high school.  It is a program for individual who have goals of going to college, but are the first generation to have it as a real option.  I met Danielle through the program, even though we went to the same school and were only one year apart.  After becoming friends, Danielle had some struggles at home and tried her best to not let it negatively affect her school and extracurricular activities.  During her senior year, my junior year, mom invited her over to our house to fix her up for her senior prom.  While I was lucky enough to have my hair professionally done, mom did her best to make sure Danielle felt as pretty as possible for her senior prom.

My freshman year of high school, a friend of mine was kicked out of her home by her parents.  Mom opened our door for her to live with us until she was able to find a more permanent place to live.  We didn’t have much room or food, but she was willing to help out a young woman who had nowhere else to go.

The same friend and I had a falling out after she lived with us, which ended in the two of us getting into a fight at school.  While we were never caught for fighting, I was worried that my parents would find out and I would get into a world of trouble.  After arriving home from school the same day as the fight, I told mom about the altercation.  She thanked me for being honest and did not punish me for getting into a fight at school.  Up until that point, I had never been so relieved in my life.

Nanny, me, mom at my first wedding, circa 1999

These are the stories that I can remember with as much detail as possible.  I have more notes, which I may come back and add additional details at another time.

·         Mom taught me how to shuffle and bridge cards.

·         Mom made two of my prom dresses and the wedding dress for my first wedding.

·         Mom and dad purchased a wooden rocking chair for me when I was pregnant with Adam.  They were both so excited to present the chair to me.  I have pictures of my reaction, because mom was so excited to give me the chair.

·         We played hand clapping games, mostly with “Say, say my playmate”, which has multiple variations of lyrics.

·         She adored a specific picture of me from one of the times I went to prom.  She printed it in an 8X12 size and I caught her looking at it occasionally with a smile on her face.

·         My freshman year of high school I played in an all-day tennis tournament in a town about an hour away from home.  I remember mom arriving to cheer me on.

·         Mom made spaghetti red and mashed potatoes for dinner occasionally.  She also made swiss steak and mashed potatoes for dinner occasionally.

·         When I was a little girl, mom read out of a big book of bible stores.  She eventually recorded herself on a cassette tape reading the book so I could listen to it while following along in the book. 

While looking for mom’s signature on a letter for my memorial tattoo, I came across a wide variety of letters and cards that mom had sent me through the years.  I realized how much I took those notes for granted and now I will never receive one again.  One of the cards she wrote in even had a phrase about when she “is no longer of this world”.  It hurt so bad to read those words in her handwriting.  It made it so real and still so painful.  I think it even knocked the wind out of me.

After finding an appropriate signature, I walked up to a local parlor and asked about the availability to get my tattoo done.  The gentleman at the counter had time so I pulled out my phone and showed him the picture of the cat I wanted tattooed then reached in my purse to pull out the letter.  I broke when I asked if he could add her signature to the cat.  He asked if she had passed and I explained it was unexpected and on May 1^st.  He gave his condolences and started working on the design.  I asked if it could be done in blue instead of black, as blue was her favorite color.  He said that wouldn’t be a problem.  As he was prepping his work station, I asked if he could make her signature a lighter blue than the cat and he was quick to pull out a lighter blue and ask if it was good.  It was perfect.  Every time I look at might inner right forearm, I am reminded that through all of my shittiness as a daughter, mom never stopped loving me.  My tattoo artist and I had a wonderful conversation and I think he was meant to do the artwork.  Of all the people in the world who made me feel better about mom, a complete stranger put so much into perspective.  Sometimes wisdom comes from the most unexpected places, and sometimes it is right in front of you and you take it for granted.  

My memorial tattoo for mom. I miss you.