Hold my hand?

Today was a monumental day. As I've mentioned before, there is a history of breast cancer on my mother's side of the family: my mother and her two sisters. My mother had a tumor removed, the middle sister had chemotherapy and radiation and the youngest had a lumpectomy. Upon hearing this and the fact that I had not had a screening yet . . . my doctor immediately wrote me a prescription to have a mammogram. It seems that the age for routine mammograms to begin is forty. HOWEVER, having a family history of breast cancer bumps up that inital mammogram from forty to thirty-five. I'm thirty six. Yeah, my doctor wanted a mammogram sooner rather than later.

Admittedly, this is something that I have put off for quite some time because I just didn't want to address the matter. My mother died of cancer . . . lung cancer that everyone suspects originated with the tumor in her breast. My two aunts have had to deal with cancer, though (thank heavens) they are still alive. I was so affected by this appointment that last night I was sobbing in bed saying I didn't want to have cancer. That I was just so nervous. My other half was so sweet that he even offered to come along. I said no because I knew this was, again, one of those things that I had to do on my own.

When I got to the medical center, the emotions started. Or at least they tried. I could barely speak above a whisper when I was registering. And the entire time I was on the radiation floor, I was on the verge of crying. I guess the tech sensed just how nervous I was and she was incredibly patient and nice while I was going through the procedure. But all I could think of was my mother doing the very same thing that I was doing. And then learning that she had breast cancer. I don't want to be her. I don't want what happened to her to happen to me. Truth be told, I feel awful for saying that. I feel guilty for even thinking that.

Now that the day has passed and I've had a little time to think, I am relieved that I finally overcame my fear and went to have this done. Ok, so I had a lot of help from my other half to get there . . . but I did it. We are both relieved. At least we'll know where things stand for me, in that respect. Nothing worse than an unpleasant surprise that could have been prevented. While I feel relieved, though, I realize it's just another one of those things for me that I wish my mother had been here to guide me through this one. It makes me miss her even more.

But I really do want to

This past weekend, my other half and I went to his cousin's wedding. It was wonderful to see his family and participate in such a wonderful event. At the reception, though, for about ten minutes, the family blues were written all over my face. For a split second, all I wanted to do was drive to my aunt's house and just cry. I thank my other half as he sensed it immediately and we went outside so I could compose myself. Then, he again posed to me that if I don't think I can look at our upcoming event with happiness and joy, then we do not need to have some big event. Part of me wanted to be upset at him because, really, I only got emotional for a brief period of time. But, the other, more rational part of me, said nothing of that nature because he's really only trying to protect me and have us do what would make me happy.

I know that I have brought this up before, but . . . the truth of the matter is that I truly do want to have a wedding where our families can get together and celebrate. It won't be some over the top affair, but something nice for everyone. And, quite honestly, I don't think my mother would want me to not do something like not have a wedding because of my moments of sadness and missing her. She was never one for letting her emotions run her in that manner. I know this, among many other big events in my life to come, is just another lesson for me to learn from. Another lesson to draw from the strength she has passed on to me to continue putting one foot in front of the other. Another opportunity to do her proud.

In the end, I think I will regret the things I don't do because of the thought of going through those times without my mother. I mean, seriously . . . am I not going to have kids because my mother isn't here? I think not. Am I not going to take a promotion at work (which happened recently) because she isn't here to rejoice with me? Nah. So, why wouldn't I have a wedding? It's something I so want to do. Yes, I get sad. A little emotional. But it doesn't mean that I can't do the wedding and do it well. I'm sure I'll be a tad emotional on that day. I'm sure her presence by many will be missed. I think to do it is more a statement of moving forward than not. In fact, I'd probably hear her yelling at me from above if I chose not to do it simply because I miss her and, well, because I want my mommy to be here through the planning process and on the day of. What daughter wouldn't want her mother on her wedding day?

The truth of the matter is that she isn't here and I have to continually remember to accept that fact. And then recognize that there are strong, good women in my life. In her absence, I am starting to learn, if I allow it, there are others who are willing to guide, advise and support me as I continue to move forward.

Will the real you, please stand up

There have been days when I realize I have nothing substantial to add to this blog. Then there are the days when all I can think of is writing for this blog. But I seem to have trouble finding the in-between.

Nevertheless . . . my father was in town for a short visit. He arrived late Saturday night and left yesterday. It was not a good visit, at least in my eyes. In fact, it was a horrible visit. So why am I writing about it here? Well, reflecting on his trip, and even while he was here, I realized just how much he has changed since my mother died.

I understand that his wife of a sigificant period of time, the mother of his children is gone. I realize that he is and eighty-two year old man who is still angry at the world and still has not moved forward. He has become more ornery, irrational and unreasonable. Worst of all, though, while he asserts himself to be infallable, he does so at the expense of everyone else around who loves and cares about him. It seems he has mastered the art of manipulating people into just the position of "damned if you do, damned if don't" so he has something fight. He yells and looks like he's just about to explode so you just end up agreeing him to placate him. He laughs when others are upset or in tears. He's like a child, but more unmanageable.

Seeing all of this makes me realize that no matter how hard I try to be the glue to keep this family together, I can't. Seeing all of this as a married woman, I understand more and more why it is that my father could be the very reason why my brother doesn't come to visit more often, and when he does come to visit, he and his wife stay for an extremely short period of time. Seeing all of this makes me realize that I really have to do what it takes to protect my family, my future children from this volatility. Seeing all this makes me realize that my father is, in a sense, completely lost without my mother.

My mother was the one who kept my father in line. She was the one who made sure he was socially appropriate. That he was kind to those around them (even though she could be quite the pushy one herself). She was the one who made sure that they enjoyed life and what they had not only themselves but with family and those around them. And now, I see that my father doesn't trust anyone. Including me. He conducts himself as though everyone is trying to take advantage of him. Thus, he has an incredible control issue that rears its ugly head every single opportunity that my father gets.

At least with my mother . . . what you saw is what you got. My mother was one incredibly tough boss and mother. And when things didn't go as she dictated, you heard about it. But, when things went as she dictated, you heard about it and then some. You KNEW it was a job well done. My mother was true to her word - good or bad. On the other hand, I see more and more that my father is NOT his word. In varying situations, I witnessed that he cannot be trusted to be true to an agreement - verbal or written. And his attitude is, well, it's going to be this way now and if you don't like it then go F yourself. Ok, so he doesn't say "go F yourself", but you get the point.

My father has always stressed over and over again to my brother and I that we can really only count on each other. Um - untrue. How can I count on my father when he cannot keep his word. And even worse, how can I count on him when I know he is lying. To my face. Each time I think things will be different, it is quite the opposite and I'm left even more and more disappointed. With my mother, you knew when she said something, she was going to do it. Yes, when she grounded me for four months (yes, four months) after I got my first "C" ever on a report card . . . I was grounded for four months. No joke.

This visit with my father left me realizing that things have changed so much since my mother died. He's a different man. Sometimes for the better, but of late, not so much for the better. My mother isn't here to rein him in and keep us functioning as a family. These are shoes that try as I may, I cannot fill. I have my own family to keep together and protect. And hopefully, someday soon, that family will expand. I cannot have such volatility around my family.

I'm at a loss. I think I finally see that when my mother died, she clearly took the father I knew with her. And that is a new adjustment.

Ta da!

So, this past weekend was Mother's Day. And, well, I think I pulled it off with more grace than I have since my mother passed away.

I spent the first part of the day running around going to the market to make sure there was food in the house for this upcoming week. While I was at the market, there were quite a few mother/daughter combinations as the Race for the Cure walk had just ended. And rather than look at them with resentment and bitterness, seeing them made me smile. I can't exactly explain the reason . . . all I know is that it filled me with joy to see these women embracing each other and their families. I hope that one day I'll know what it is like to embrace the mother-child relationship.

The next part of my day was spent with my other half's family. And, let me just say that it was not chock full of me being angry at the world. Yay! There was a little bit of weirdness and difficulty for me. And I think I was only overcome with emotion twice . . . which I was able to quickly nip in the bud. I also credit the other half for comforting me, but not making a huge deal about the fact that it's Mother's Day and I'm vulnerable to moments of weakness. It wasn't a day full of "are you ok?" or other questions to remind me that I stood in that house motherless.

The last part of my day was spent talking with my other half about how I felt throughout the day. And, yes, there were some tears shed for a period of time - not too long. But, long enough. It was different this time, though. The tears weren't angry tears. They weren't bitter tears. Rather, they were just tears of missing my mother. That's it. I've come to such a peaceful place in my life that I miss my mother so incredibly because I think she would be so happy and proud. She would see that I have finally put the pieces together and the picture is quite beautiful and fulfilling. It's these moments of growth and accomplishment that leave me in that place of just missing my mother and having her here to share in my growth.

It only took me just shy of ten years to get to this point. But, the rewards and happiness that I feel when I think of my mother, I can say was well worth the wait.

I miss her, though. Incredibly.

At sea

Ever have a period of time where it feels like nothing is clicking? One’s up, the other’s down. One’s angry, the other’s happy. One feels slighted, the other feels just as slighted. One tries to make peace, the other ignores. One feels an inequity, the other doesn’t see it. One tries to explain, the other doesn’t hear it or understand. I guess it’s all about perception and it feels like the perception meter can be so out of whack sometimes there’s so much difficulty in finding the equilibrium. And truly, it just leaves me in a place where I’m just tired. Tired of trying to find the equilibrium, tired of trying to be heard, tired of listening without getting upset . . .just tired of everything. It’s not that I want to just toss my hands up and just be away from everyone and everything, but just tired of feeling like everything is MY misperception. It’s not fun feeling stepped on, not fun feeling like what I say doesn’t make sense, not fun feeling as though anyone can behave completely opposite of his or her own expectation of me and expect that I’ll just stand by and say or feel nothing.

It’s truly one of those times when I wish I could just wrap myself in my mother’s arms and have her hold me close. This is a time when I want nothing more than her guidance to help me muddle through. It’s a time when it couldn’t be more obvious to me that I lack that mother-daughter relationship. And not that it was always perfect, because it wasn’t. But when it really mattered, there were times when my mother could listen with an open-mind and help or guide. Or at least posit questions for me to ponder. At a bare minimum, I just want her here.

And this is what sucks about her being dead (can’t tell you how long it took me to type THAT word). I don’t have access to the mother-adult daughter relationship. There was no chance to develop that dynamic and be able to learn from that next stage. It leaves me feeling more at a loss, leaves me feeling more at sea with being a motherless daughter.

Always wear clean underwear

Last night I started reading a book called Things I Want My Daughters to Know by Elizabeth Noble. It's basically about a mother who writes a letter to each 0f her four daughters upon realizing she is running out of time. As I was reading the book, I wondered, if my mother had written me a letter of things she wanted me to know . . . what would she have told me. Would she had given me tips on being married? On being a mother? Maybe tips on how to plan a wedding? I don’t know. Would my mother have reminisced about the past? Would she have shared knowledge with me that she would have found helpful to me as an adult?

Whatever she would or would not have written, I think that I would have liked one last thing from her. Something that was just between me and her. Something that she took time to do that was from her to me. When I was born, or shortly thereafter, my father started a journal for each of his children. When we packed up the family house and he made his way to California, he gave me a small journal. I realized it was his writings over the years. Though he wrote it was from both he and my mother, it was clear who took the time to write entries. I think I saw one entry out of all of them that my mother wrote. But, in the journal, my father wrote of my learning how to talk, walk, count, etc. He described what a pain I was to eat a meal with because I was so slow and picky. I learned a few things about my childhood that, well, are still true today. However, I also know that there are just some things that a father cannot tell or explain to his daughter. There are things that only a mother can tell, share or explain with her daughter. And now, I don’t have that. Ok, so I didn’t exactly take advantage of that when my mother was alive . . . but I guess that is the benefit of hindsight, right?

Seriously, though . . . there are so many unanswered questions for me . . . so many things that my mother won’t be around to help me with. Now, some of those things, sure, I can figure them out on my own. But it definitely would have been nice to have her experience to draw from. But then there are things I think about like what will it be like when I am pregnant? What did being a wife mean to her? What did being a mother mean to her? If there were things she could change or improve, what would they be? What lessons would she want to pass on to me?

There is a reason why there are those who came before us . . . it’s so we can learn from them so that we can at least avoid those mistakes. But most importantly, I know that our parents may also serve as our guides – not just for what we want, but also as what we don’t want, in some cases. Sure there are people in our lives we can draw knowledge and advice from, but it’s not the same. There is no replacement. There is no substitute.

I know for me, I could probably sit down and write a letter to my future child and come up with a few things that I would want him or her to know. I’ve already begun creating a recipe book so that my future child(ren) will have a piece of their mother always. I have jewelry that my mother passed on to me that I want to pass on to my children. And I know that I will do the same as my father, and keep a journal for my children. I want to leave traces of me behind for my children.

So, I can’t help but wonder . . . what things did my mother want me to know?

Home Sweet Home

For having not been with my aunt and uncle for quite a while and a lot of water under the bridge . . . the visit with them this weekend was unbelievable. So much so that I really didn't want to leave. The anticipation of this visit was a bit nerve-wracking . . . in addition to not having seen them in a while, it would also be the first time for my other half to meet some of my extended family. It would not have gone smoother. Upon arrival, my aunt and OH (teehee, "Other Half") started chatting away like old friends. It gave me this warm fuzzy feeling inside. There was the familiar encouragement to OH to keep eating, my cousin's daughters were incredibly cute relaying stories to me about how their father (my cousin) is a "yes man" and Yeh-Yeh (Chinese for father's father) lets them do just about anything (imagine a 70+ year old man with a load of hair product in his hair, eyeshadow, lipstick, rouge . . . the whole works). My aunt talking to my OH to get as good a feel for him as she could. There was never that lull in conversation, there were explanations to my OH for Chinese that was used and there was just fun. 

For not having my mother around, my aunt is the next closest person I have to my mother. So similar in so many ways . . . for her to have a positive reaction to my OH was extremely important. And to begin re-establishing frequent visits is so very important. My aunt, as sweet as she is, is a straight-shooter and when I heard the continunal comments to visit more or even come and stay on the weekend and do what we want during the day and crash at the house is when I knew that OH was part of the family. Not that he wouldn't be part of the family . . . but to have that level of acceptance and openness really made me feel good about my own family. In a situation where I knew there could be room for disappointment, there was absolutely none.

However, this is the one area where my mother and my aunt differed. I recall far too many times where I went to see my mother full of excitement and happiness about something or someone only for her to completely squash that feeling in about T-2 seconds. No joke. But this was different. And I think my aunt knew exactly what I was thinking and feeling. Since my mother's passing, there have been family events where my aunt has seen the meltdown or heard of the meltdown. That I just couldn't see past the fact that my mother wasn't there. And when my aunt flat out told me that she is proud of me and that I found a good man . . . I know that it wasn't just her talking to me, but it was her and my mother. 

I know this time is different. I know that my mother would absolutely have loved my OH. Of course she would have found her own things to nitpick about to me . . . but I know she would have welcomed my OH into the family as warmly and openly as my aunt did this weekend. So, though my mother may not be around anymore, she is in so many ways. For my aunt is a true testament to that. I could see, feel and hear it all. 

While growing up, my mother used "family is family" as an explanation to just about any question I had that was in regard to family matters. At the time, I think I thought she was just being unreasonable . . . why couldn't I just meet up with you all later? Family is family, she would say. Why do I have to go to Taiwan instead of ______? Family is family, she would say. Endless questions from me, the same response from her. And now I understand that sometimes, most times, that is all the explanation that is required. My OH is my family, thus he is their family as well. And for all the little familial acts I saw . . . family is family.