I WROTE THIS BLOG ON OCTOBER 13TH 2010.
I couldn’t do it. With my breath held and fingers clinched to my steering wheel I couldn’t get off of the exit ramp that lead to the house I grew up in as a child. I drove right past it and my eyes were filling with salt water by the time I got off of the next exit to turn around.
As I approached the stop light to turn right towards forgetting what I was trying to do I decided to go straight through it, right to the curve around that long stretch of road that lead to my old neighborhood. I past the place where three generations of my family would vote and volunteered at the polls every election…a little further and it was the grocery store that I would ride my bike to or walk with my brother to get “little mugs” for fifty cents. My heart was pounding right out of my chest. I’ve only driven through this old familiar neighborhood a total of three times since the death of my parents and every time was harder than the last, this time was no exception.
With every look at something I tried to remember a time or conversation with my mom and dad…I miss them.
They were indeed the strongest people I ever knew.
When my father was stricken with his brain cancer so quickly he never once did not think positive or allow me to see him cry.
He was so strong.
Just like a Marine.
Even to the very end…In the midst of his seizure as he was trying desperately to get out his last words to me they weren’t anything about fear, or sadness…Only concern and sadness for what my mom, brothers, sister and I were about to go through from losing him.
“I can die tomorrow Tommie-Girl and be with Jesus, or I can be healed and stay here with you all…either way baby, it’s a win-win.” He would say that all of the time as if to try and comfort me with a hidden agenda of preparation for his death. However you are NEVER prepared for the death of a parent. Especially so soon after a diagnosis.
My mom was the same way.
The sicker she became the more at peace she seemed to be.
As long as I live I will never know how she did it.
Smiles all around for her, always, always. I can’t even count how many times I would sit at her bedside and just cry as her memory became more and more distant of who my husband was, my children and soon myself… I would read her the bible and every so often she would put her hands over mine and look me in the face with such a gentleness no words could ever describe or feeling explained.
She was so beautiful.
Even for as sick as she was she NEVER lost that beauty, her joy…
She would wipe my face from my tears and say “it’s okay…it’s okay Tommie-Girl…I love you, I love you.” I would try to explain; “Mom…” and she would never let me finish before saying “no, no..now c’mon, be happy.”
Sitting at the doctor’s today I was so overwhelmed and yet thinking about it, what I am facing is so crazy minimal in comparison to what they both endured. I’m almost ashamed to say I’ve been crying all day over this stupid diagnosis of Crohns but I just can’t help it. I’m obviously not as strong as my parents, I’m so scared. I have no clue as to the road set before me, no one can give me a straight answer only that I’m “more ill than they thought.”
What does that even mean?
Feeling sorry for myself is not an option but I can’t help but to weep for my mom and long for her to say it’s going to be okay or my pops telling me we will get through this together…I would like to say I have no bitterness but that would be a bold face lie.
I am angry.
It has not been long enough to get past this grief I have to deal with this Crohns Disease.
Friendships that are as the wind, broken heart, struggle, frustration, sadness I do NOT have time for this right now.
Am I losing my mind?
I keep smiling, I keep moving forward, I look at my glass half full always…Yet I am so so very tired.
All I know is that I came from good stock as they say 🙂
I will eventually see the light at the end of this long drawn out tunnel and be able to smile through it all and laugh…laugh with such passion my family will hear me all the way in Heaven.
I just wish…for one moment, one small private moment I could hear them laugh with me.
As I approached the stop light to turn right towards forgetting what I was trying to do I decided to go straight through it, right to the curve around that long stretch of road that lead to my old neighborhood. I past the place where three generations of my family would vote and volunteered at the polls every election…a little further and it was the grocery store that I would ride my bike to or walk with my brother to get “little mugs” for fifty cents. My heart was pounding right out of my chest. I’ve only driven through this old familiar neighborhood a total of three times since the death of my parents and every time was harder than the last, this time was no exception.
With every look at something I tried to remember a time or conversation with my mom and dad…I miss them.
They were indeed the strongest people I ever knew.
When my father was stricken with his brain cancer so quickly he never once did not think positive or allow me to see him cry.
He was so strong.
Just like a Marine.
Even to the very end…In the midst of his seizure as he was trying desperately to get out his last words to me they weren’t anything about fear, or sadness…Only concern and sadness for what my mom, brothers, sister and I were about to go through from losing him.
“I can die tomorrow Tommie-Girl and be with Jesus, or I can be healed and stay here with you all…either way baby, it’s a win-win.” He would say that all of the time as if to try and comfort me with a hidden agenda of preparation for his death. However you are NEVER prepared for the death of a parent. Especially so soon after a diagnosis.
My mom was the same way.
The sicker she became the more at peace she seemed to be.
As long as I live I will never know how she did it.
Smiles all around for her, always, always. I can’t even count how many times I would sit at her bedside and just cry as her memory became more and more distant of who my husband was, my children and soon myself… I would read her the bible and every so often she would put her hands over mine and look me in the face with such a gentleness no words could ever describe or feeling explained.
She was so beautiful.
Even for as sick as she was she NEVER lost that beauty, her joy…
She would wipe my face from my tears and say “it’s okay…it’s okay Tommie-Girl…I love you, I love you.” I would try to explain; “Mom…” and she would never let me finish before saying “no, no..now c’mon, be happy.”
Sitting at the doctor’s today I was so overwhelmed and yet thinking about it, what I am facing is so crazy minimal in comparison to what they both endured. I’m almost ashamed to say I’ve been crying all day over this stupid diagnosis of Crohns but I just can’t help it. I’m obviously not as strong as my parents, I’m so scared. I have no clue as to the road set before me, no one can give me a straight answer only that I’m “more ill than they thought.”
What does that even mean?
Feeling sorry for myself is not an option but I can’t help but to weep for my mom and long for her to say it’s going to be okay or my pops telling me we will get through this together…I would like to say I have no bitterness but that would be a bold face lie.
I am angry.
It has not been long enough to get past this grief I have to deal with this Crohns Disease.
Friendships that are as the wind, broken heart, struggle, frustration, sadness I do NOT have time for this right now.
Am I losing my mind?
I keep smiling, I keep moving forward, I look at my glass half full always…Yet I am so so very tired.
All I know is that I came from good stock as they say 🙂
I will eventually see the light at the end of this long drawn out tunnel and be able to smile through it all and laugh…laugh with such passion my family will hear me all the way in Heaven.
I just wish…for one moment, one small private moment I could hear them laugh with me.
Selah~
CHERyL
CHERyL
Gesuschic 
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