Not Here

I thought she would always be here.

She was there in the beginning, teaching me to speak, eat, to potty. She was there through elementary school, through the angst of the teenage years and the rebellion of high school. She was there during the first attempts at self-sustentation; providing advice, support, and a new set of pans from the Salvation Army when I moved in to my first apartment.

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The fabulous Lala has tagged me with the Pink Sisterhood tag. It’s very early in the morning, and after yesterday, I am way too tired to figure out how to post the logo and all that jazz.

I’m tired because yesterday was spent among tears and photos at my sister’s house, where my momma spent the last four years of her life. Three of those years were spent fighting breast cancer. Of course, none of us get out alive, and momma passed on August 22 of this year, less than three weeks before the birth of her first great-grandbaby. She was 71.


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A Work In Progress

Walk Way to the OceanImage by Bob AuBuchon via Flickr

As you can see, I’m farking around with my theme here, and I think I’ve got one I can live with. Although I have a predeliction for the dark, I’ve been told it’s hard on the eyes, so I’ve gone more traditional. Tell me what you think, and don’t blow smoke up my ass.

A huge shout-out to my fellow goddess, Lala, who baby-stepped me through the process via G-Chat (which I hate only a little less than the phone.)  I have a lot of tweaking to do until I’m satisfied, and it might take me a few days. I appreciate you being patient and bearing with me. The truth is, things are not going well for my momma and it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better, can you dig it. Tomorrow morning I’m heading up to my sister’s farm, to give her a break and visit with Momma. We don’t have much time.

I can’t really express how I feel right now. My mother is the only parent I have ever known, and as the eldest, we have a relationship that’s different from the other siblings. I’m not saying my pain is greater; it’s different. Her battle with breast cancer has been four years long — we all knew this day was coming. She’s determined to make it until my daughter has her baby, but the price, my friends, is way too high, IMO. Still, she will have what she wants, as long as the Universe allows. My daughter, known as “the GC” (GirlChild) in blogging circles, is due September 7th. In cancer terms, that’s a long way away.

Until then, if Momma can endure, so can I. It’s time for the Big Girl Pants, and all I can do is the best I can do. That’s all any of us can do.

So, if I’m a little spotty on blogging, tweaking or dropping, that’s the reason. Be assured I will return all drops, comments, link-love etc. as best I can until things settle. Until then, if you have some good vibes to spare, I’ll take all I can get.

And call your momma. Lord knows mothers can be a pain in the ass, but believe me when I tell you there’s no one like your mother. Call her and tell her you love her. Please.

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