Always in sync, she said….

This is a day of mixed emotions…for so many.  A day set aside to honor all moms plus those women who hold special places in the hearts and minds of their families.  Something I wrote a while back touched upon this day that is a difficult time for so many.  Those thoughts still hold very true.  Some are without their mothers for the first time this year, others for much longer.  The pain of their respective losses cuts deeply, regardless of the time involved.

 

Yesterday, stores bustled with last-minute shoppers who were on a mission to find that perfect card, most beautiful bunch of flowers or garden plant.  As I drove home from work, local restaurants already had filled parking lots from families out to celebrate early, choosing to avoid the dining madness today.

 

It’s Mother’s Day, once again.  My 44th, in fact and I’m sitting here, reflecting on my years of motherhood.  I doubt if any mom out there has a gift they treasure more than their first, handmade, Mother’s Day card with stick-figures, hearts and X’s and O’s scrawled all over.  Hallmark ain’t got nuttin’ over some construction paper, crayons and artistic love!

I enjoy giving my two daughters something special for this day and, for my miles-away daughter in Florida, ordered what I thought would be a unique floral/fruit arrangement from some internet-based company called Ava’s Flowers.

Big mistake.  Big. Big…quite large, in fact.  Don’t go there.  Ever!

Hey, what can I say.  Like so many others, I simply became caught-up in the Mother’s Day shopping rush.  In short, what I ordered was not what showed up on the doorstep.  Of course, we all know that cyberspace is often a dangerous misleading place;  how can one ever be certain that some impressive photo staring us in the face on the order page is what will be delivered?  Right?  Well, it looked impressive and all the “padded” customer reviews on avasflowers.net just raved about this website.

 

Did I just hear someone say “bullshit”??

Order Placed: 
                                              Order Delivered: 

 

To add to this drama, my Florida daughter and her family sent ME a floral arrangement, not from this shady Ava’s Flowers operation, but from a local business in Florida.  It was delivered, squeezed into a large box, in a vase, with no water (for obvious shipping reasons) but the flowers weren’t even tubed.  As such, most were wilted if not crushed.  What we had here was a double Mother’s Day Whammy!

Texting back and forth, we both tried to laugh over the floral misfortunes we each experienced and Jen’s closing remark was “we are almost always in sync my dear mother”

Yes, we are.  And the same goes for each of my three children on some level.  A very good thing, indeed. 

 

It’s what being a mom should be all about.

 

                  

 


Signature

Laughing…through tears

I’m supposed to be a Writer and, for a while, I thought I was one.  So many of us who blog come out blasting in the beginning, sometimes unable to keep up with everything we want to share.  We don’t always care who reads or leaves comments, it’s just satisfying to sit back and read our thoughts staring back on the screen in front of us.

Then, the doldrums hit.  Words stop flowing and we keep meaning to sit down and get busy with our chosen passion.  We want to write but don’t, start yet never finish and agonize over a dozen promising posts that gather cobwebs in our drafts folder.

Recently, someone I greatly admire mentioned that she missed me, asking if I was okay.  Just that one message stirred me, deeply, and I started wading through various outlines I’ve been ignoring.  Still, I continued to find excuses to write, allowing life to keep getting in my way instead of giving it free reign to whet my creativity.

Yesterday, at the salon where I work, a man called to make an appointment for his wife, explaining that she was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s disease and that he wanted to do something special for her before taking her on a “Doo Wop Cruise” in a few weeks.  He sounded so confused, explaining that he had reached out to the Alzheimer’s Organization for help and received nothing but mailings asking for donations along with information on subscribing to their publication.  Having experienced the same response when my late mother was diagnosed, I understood his complete frustration.  He went on to explain that his wife is just 63 years old and is suffering from early onset Alzheimer’s,  a form of dementia that often moves more rapidly than what strikes the elderly.  I gave him all the short term advice that I could during our twenty-minute conversation and scheduled time for his wife with one of our best salon stylists.

Shortly after, I had the pleasure in having a conversation with one of those people who really listen, you know, the ones who ask questions and stay totally involved in what you have to say?  We briefly spoke of my writing and how this blog came to be born; we spoke about Alzheimer’s and my difficulties in being a caregiver, how I often laugh in the midst of the chaos in my life.   My inspiration became re-invented when she said…”laughing, through tears”…the title of this long overdue blog post.  I thank you, “Melanie Cricket”, and hope you stop by to read my humble offerings!

So, where have I been?  Like so many others, dealing with things I’m unable to control.  An emotional fracture, caused by foolish disagreements and outright vindictiveness, which has impacted a long-standing friendship of forty years; painful endings of new beginnings; our miserable economy and, worst of all, cancer hitting much too close to home with the recent diagnosis of my husband’s brother, his only sibling.  Each passing day has been full of debates and lectures, mixed-in with a dose of depression that lingers in the background, waiting to pound its gavel down on my existence.

It’s not the end of my immediate world, not by any means.  Countless other human beings have so much more to deal with and I’m reminded about “There but for the grace of God…” when I feel so overwhelmed.  My heart breaks and tears mix with anger over the young girl from Colorado who was robbed of the chance to grow into the beautiful woman she should have been, for those who struggle to survive on a daily basis, for those who cry for help and no one listens.

All of this will pass and I will laugh whenever possible, but, my tears won’t be far behind.

Signature

It’s all…relative

Flicker of Inspiration #52: Speed Writing Prompt and Linkup

So your prompt is this: Write. Write for ten minutes without stopping. Your topic can be anything.  The important thing about this prompt is just writing. Get your thoughts down on paper and share them with us. Don’t edit. Don’t polish. Just write.

…….Timer set:  Go!

One thing any writer quickly learns is that the words you share aren’t always met with approval from others, especially family members.  However factual a story that one relates might be, there is always a different perspective from another source.  So be it.  Everyone is entitled to their opinion and I respect that.  Respect what I have to say as well.

The years in dealing with my late mother as she struggled with Alzheimer’s were beyond difficult, the same as it is for anyone standing helplessly by as the disease creates a stranger where a loved one once stood.   It was during that time that I made the decision to document every incident and write my book of memoirs.  I don’t have to get long-winded about the amount of detail that goes into writing any book but one must always state the facts, without exaggeration, without innuendo and without malicious intent.  But, for me, there are times when some undercurrent of anger becomes pervasive.

I have journals with endless notes that chronicle my late mother’s medical and other issues as well as any interactions with her siblings.   Here on my blog, I’ve shared several chapters of my book and it was no surprise to me when a relative landed on a particular post while doing a Google search and elected to voice their opinion.  They were certainly entitled to do so but…the facts remain and I firmly stand my ground with anything that I’ve written.

There are always multiple sides to any story and people will believe what they choose, what makes them feel justified in a given situation.  As family relationships ebb and flow, the emotional tide of reason is anything but constant.  Enter an illness and all too often the confusion and fear associated with fleeting mortality tends to impact sensibilities.  Blood connects us as families, for the most part.  Years without communication drastically changes those dynamics. 

That is… until curiosity is piqued by an Internet search.

 

Signature