Forget me not

Inspired by The Life List

I mistakenly watched The Life List last night not reading the synopsis and only going by it being the Top Movie to Watch on Netflix. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it. But my mother has been battling breast cancer for 13 years and it hit different because she’s now 89 years old and the cancer has come back with a vengeance. We lost my dad last year and as I contemplate life without my mom I feel so much all at once. Anyone who has lost a parent can attest to the very unique sense of loss that comes with losing your mother or father…or both. And The Life List really brought it all home to me.

No one can prepare you for this. No one talks about this window of time where you’re dealing with the reality that soon you will not have your parents. You’re just not equipped because there is no training for this. There is no manual. And only those that have traveled down this painful road understand what it feels like.

If you are like most “kids” (age is not relevant here), you take your parents for granted. They’re there to drive you everywhere and feed you and answer questions when you need them. But as you grow older and wiser, you value them “being there” so much more because you realize there will come a time when they won’t be on the other end of the phone or at home ready to make your favorite meal when you decide to grace them with your presence. They say it’s a thankless job but I disagree. I am a parent and it’s the most fulfilling role I have ever had. It’s been an honor and a privilege to raise my two boys and the bonus kids I got with my marriage. Even if I only get calls here and there squeezed in between their busy schedules.

Now that my kids all moved away and have full lives of their own, I understand so clearly how my parents must have felt all these years. I wish so badly that I had not taken my parents for granted in my 20’s when I was too busy partying with all my So Cal friends to take their phone calls. Or my 30s when I was working too much and growing my own family. Or my 40s when I was breaking the glass ceiling, passed 12 kidney stones and became a chauffer/cheerleader to all my kids and never had time to pee…

But then we got the “gift” as my mom calls it. When I turned 47 my mom was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer and thankfully, I was living in Houston, home to the world renowned MD Anderson Cancer Center. She had to travel to Houston all the time for her treatments, so we started to spend alot of quality time in hotel rooms, hospital rooms and treatment rooms while the toxic chemo slowly dripped into my mom’s veins. My mom is one of the most positive people I’ve ever met and she calls cancer a gift because it brought my sister and I closer to her. I think she’s right. Since that day in 2012, my sister and I talk to our mom every single day.

As I watched the movie The Life List and saw the 20-something girl try to navigate the world without her mom, I realized that even if you have the privilege of having your mom until you’re 60, like me, it hurts. The sense of impending loss keeps me up at night. Dads are special too but moms have a different connection to their kids. I guess it starts in the womb. Even across the miles via telephone (not even Facetime) my mom can tell when something is wrong just with the sound of my Hello. Losing that connection is something that chokes me up every single time I think about it.

So as I spend more and more time with my mom as her cancer progresses. I think about all the history that will be lost once she’s gone. They say that most people are remembered for 2 generations and then you’re just a name on a family tree or in someone’s casual conversation at a Christmas dinner.

Once my dad passed away, I realized I hadn’t saved any of his voice mails and that someday I would forget his voice. Then my best friend reminded me that I always take Live Photos on my iphone and you can hear his voice in some of the last photos I took of him in the hospital. I especially love one where he’s saying bye to me one day as I snapped a photo before I left the hospital room. That one really hits hard.

So, I decided to write a journal during this precious time I have with my mom asking her all the questions I have never gotten around to asking and writing down all the stories I’ve heard over the years. And I also started recording voice notes with her answers.

My sister and I will be spending Mother’s Day with her this year and I plan to record some of her answers on video to capture her laugh, her tone and her expressions. I’m not sure I will ever have the heart to watch them in the future after she’s gone, but somehow it gives me solace to know that I will have captured her essence forever. And that I will be able to watch her laugh and talk to me anytime I am missing her.

My sister lost her husband to a “widow-maker” heart attack that took him so suddenly she didn’t even have time to call 911. My dad lasted 20 days from diagnosis to final breath. And my mom is going on 13 years of surgeries, radiation and chemo every 3 weeks. My sister and I always end up debating about what’s worse—an instant death or a long drawn out death. I know is sounds morbid. We just know it’s so hard to get through. And achingly painful. And there doesn’t seem to be a designated length of time for mourning.

But we have also come to the conclusion that it doesn’t really matter the circumstances of how you lose someone. As long as your tab is settled with the people you love when it happens. What matters is loving those around you every single day and TELLING them you love them every single day. And no matter how crazy the world gets with politics and the price of eggs, living each day to the fullest is vitally important.

Easier said than done. I’ve had 13 years of telling myself to enjoy each day more and not take things so seriously and STILL I am totally stressed out each day and my gastritis is worse than ever. I walk 2 miles each morning and I always call my mom during those walks. It seems like everyday she tells me I need to slow down and enjoy my life more. And for years I really resented that she was always telling me what to do. Now I realize she’s telling me from the wise 20/20 vision of someone who loves me and wants to see me happy—and not wasting the beautiful life that God has granted me.

They say that tomorrow is not promised. And it’s not. So if you got to this point in my sad post, do me a favor (if they’re still alive) text your mom and dad that you love them. Text your kids. Text your siblings. Hug your partner/husband/wife for an extra few minutes tonight. And say a quick prayer of thanks for today before you go to bed. And say a prayer for my mom while you’re at it. I’m not ready yet.