We believe it will be just a few more days before we say goodbye to Mom. She's more "out of it" than with it and, today, has spent more time sleeping than waking. Even "awake" means she's nodding off every minute or so... or drifting in and out of a sentence.
One of the hospice booklets that I read about mentioned how they will sleep most of the time as they draw nearer to the end. How it's their body's way of "shutting down", but the interesting thing was that it's also their brain's way of doing a "Life in Review"... Life flashing before their eyes. I watch Mom sleep and see her smile and smile as well because I hope she is seeing all the great times that I will always carry with me in my heart.
Tony, Trish, and I finally sat down and had "The Talk" about what we would do once she really leaves us. I've never had that conversation before and I had put it off until today because I didn't want to face it. It really wasn't until yesterday that it even hit me that she'll be gone sooner rather than later. We'll send her off in a style that she would be happy with. And I'll stay up here to help Tony and Tena for a while. To start to make sense of something that... never makes sense.
I haven't cried much. I'm surprised really. I thought for sure the minute I was alone in my bedroom, I'd break down, but it really wasn't until I sat next to Mom, put my head on her shoulder and told her how wonderful she is, how much I love her, and how proud I am... that the tears became to much to hide. I still hid them from her and they didn't last long... I jumped up and washed my face before she could see me cry.
Truth is, I don't know if that's the last time I'll have her attention, but I do know it's not the last time I'll talk to her. I take the first night shift... (Usually 8pm to 1-3 AM) and will use that time to whisper in her ear as she sleeps. I don't think we'll have a real conversation, but I can give her my love, my memories, and reassure both her and myself that I will be okay. That WE, the ones who will be left behind, will be okay. We'll survive. We'll hold on tight to each other and we'll survive.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Finding My Place
Let's not talk about the trouble I had to go through to get to Idaho. Delayed flights, missed connections, unplanned stay in a hotel, grumpy employees who didn't care WHY I was traveling and upset... It was not fun. Not fun at all.
But I made it. I made it to Idaho yesterday and have been here for one full day. I can't say it's what I expected because I had no idea what to expect... It's definitely more real now and "in my face" every minute of the day. What I had a hard time articulating until today is that I'm here until my mom passes away. I hated to say it. I hate to write it, but there it is. Black and white. I'm here to help send her off the best way possible.
I'm so glad my Grandpa Ted and his Carol are here for a few days. I feel like I can ease into my place and find my role without neglecting my duties. The truth is, I know nothing (to quote Game of Thrones) when it comes to the terminally ill, dying, death, and after death. I know abstract ideas and TV/movie ideas, but I don't know the day-to-day, the minute by minute play out of actual decline and death. I read all the information the hospice people left. I learned more about what to expect, why these things happen, and how to help deal with "milestones" of the dying...
It's still hard though. I had to fight back tears as I helped my mom get dressed twice today. On one hand, I was thanking God that I'm a mom and learned how to detach myself during "times of crisis" so I could deal with what needs to be done, but on the other I just kept thinking how terrible this must be for her... How independent she has been her whole life and how, now, she has to ask for help with getting dressed, sitting/standing, walking, lying down. I want to apologize to her as I'm helping her. "I'm so sorry I have to help you. Please don't feel bad. I love you with my heart and soul and will do anything and everything for you. I'm so sorry it has to go down like this. I wish I could change it, I do."
I would escape to my room for an hour or two and just distract myself from the reality in the living room. I cleaned out the bathroom in the pool house so I could use it and leave her access to the main bathroom all the time. I did her laundry, folded it, and put it where she can get to it easily. I walked the dog, played with the dog, and cuddled the cat. I helped with dinner and helped her fix her plate, pour her milk. I tried to stay busy and out of the way, quiet and not demanding. I sat in the stifling hot living room this evening and just watched the TV on silent (Mom likes it that way, now.) for a few hours while Mom dosed off and on. I wanted to be somewhere else, but I also wanted to be right here, looking at how cancer has changed her and still being able to see the mom I see in my head. Trying so hard not to put any burdens on her, now, by staying calm and strong for both of us. Always saying yes when someone asks if I can do something... Getting out of the way when I feel Mom wants privacy...
It's going to be awhile before I adjust to this "normal" and find my place. Before Tony and I find a rhythm that will enable us to work together for Mom's comfort. I know I'll do what needs to be done. I might hate parts of it and wish someone else would do it, but if it's asked of me... and even if it's not.. I'll step up and get the job done.. It's the best way I can honor the woman who taught me the meaning of stepping up and getting the job done since day one.
But I made it. I made it to Idaho yesterday and have been here for one full day. I can't say it's what I expected because I had no idea what to expect... It's definitely more real now and "in my face" every minute of the day. What I had a hard time articulating until today is that I'm here until my mom passes away. I hated to say it. I hate to write it, but there it is. Black and white. I'm here to help send her off the best way possible.
I'm so glad my Grandpa Ted and his Carol are here for a few days. I feel like I can ease into my place and find my role without neglecting my duties. The truth is, I know nothing (to quote Game of Thrones) when it comes to the terminally ill, dying, death, and after death. I know abstract ideas and TV/movie ideas, but I don't know the day-to-day, the minute by minute play out of actual decline and death. I read all the information the hospice people left. I learned more about what to expect, why these things happen, and how to help deal with "milestones" of the dying...
It's still hard though. I had to fight back tears as I helped my mom get dressed twice today. On one hand, I was thanking God that I'm a mom and learned how to detach myself during "times of crisis" so I could deal with what needs to be done, but on the other I just kept thinking how terrible this must be for her... How independent she has been her whole life and how, now, she has to ask for help with getting dressed, sitting/standing, walking, lying down. I want to apologize to her as I'm helping her. "I'm so sorry I have to help you. Please don't feel bad. I love you with my heart and soul and will do anything and everything for you. I'm so sorry it has to go down like this. I wish I could change it, I do."
I would escape to my room for an hour or two and just distract myself from the reality in the living room. I cleaned out the bathroom in the pool house so I could use it and leave her access to the main bathroom all the time. I did her laundry, folded it, and put it where she can get to it easily. I walked the dog, played with the dog, and cuddled the cat. I helped with dinner and helped her fix her plate, pour her milk. I tried to stay busy and out of the way, quiet and not demanding. I sat in the stifling hot living room this evening and just watched the TV on silent (Mom likes it that way, now.) for a few hours while Mom dosed off and on. I wanted to be somewhere else, but I also wanted to be right here, looking at how cancer has changed her and still being able to see the mom I see in my head. Trying so hard not to put any burdens on her, now, by staying calm and strong for both of us. Always saying yes when someone asks if I can do something... Getting out of the way when I feel Mom wants privacy...
It's going to be awhile before I adjust to this "normal" and find my place. Before Tony and I find a rhythm that will enable us to work together for Mom's comfort. I know I'll do what needs to be done. I might hate parts of it and wish someone else would do it, but if it's asked of me... and even if it's not.. I'll step up and get the job done.. It's the best way I can honor the woman who taught me the meaning of stepping up and getting the job done since day one.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Lessons on Letting Go
I've seen a theme pop up for the past few years. A theme that always ends up with me having to take a deep breath and just let go... Trust that things will work out and that I do not have to control everything. From letting other people pitch in and help plan one of Phoenix's birthdays to today.. where I have to take a deep breath and believe that life will go on without me in Louisiana. That Juan will handle day-to-day duties, that Phoenix will adjust to a new normal without me by his side, and that my son will be loved and cared for by our family.
I'm nervous and anxious about tomorrow. I have so much I need to do today and keep putting it off because I don't want to face my reality just yet. Poor Phoenix is still running fevers and feeling punky. I was up all night, watching over him, feeling his forehead, waking him up for more medicine, and just listening to him cough and breathe. I found myself worrying that Juan wouldn't do that tomorrow night, but I know he will. He will step up to the plate and handle everything that comes his way... because he always has. And he's good at it.
In a way, it's hard to admit that life can go on without me.. I know Phoenix will miss me, but I also know that his family here will do what they can for him and help him each and every day. I know that we'll talk on the phone every single day and that he knows he can have Daddy or Grandma call me any time he wants a chat. He'll be fine, I know. It's just hard to let go of all the things I do for him and trust someone else will pick up my slack.
Leaving tomorrow also means that my reality with my Mom is real. That I'm going to have an even harder, more advanced lesson on learning to let go in these next few weeks. I have a huge knot in my stomach today as I try to ignore thoughts about what I'm going up to Idaho for. I keep telling everyone "It'll be fine. We'll get through it," because I know we will. I know we'll survive but I also know this is going to suck. It's going to hurt and it's going to be a dark time. I just hope for a few glimpses of light along the way.
I know things will be fine. Life will go on both in Louisiana and Idaho. We will all adjust to new normals and then adjust again when that normal changes. We'll make it through minute by minute, hour by hour, and day by day.
I'm nervous and anxious about tomorrow. I have so much I need to do today and keep putting it off because I don't want to face my reality just yet. Poor Phoenix is still running fevers and feeling punky. I was up all night, watching over him, feeling his forehead, waking him up for more medicine, and just listening to him cough and breathe. I found myself worrying that Juan wouldn't do that tomorrow night, but I know he will. He will step up to the plate and handle everything that comes his way... because he always has. And he's good at it.
In a way, it's hard to admit that life can go on without me.. I know Phoenix will miss me, but I also know that his family here will do what they can for him and help him each and every day. I know that we'll talk on the phone every single day and that he knows he can have Daddy or Grandma call me any time he wants a chat. He'll be fine, I know. It's just hard to let go of all the things I do for him and trust someone else will pick up my slack.
Leaving tomorrow also means that my reality with my Mom is real. That I'm going to have an even harder, more advanced lesson on learning to let go in these next few weeks. I have a huge knot in my stomach today as I try to ignore thoughts about what I'm going up to Idaho for. I keep telling everyone "It'll be fine. We'll get through it," because I know we will. I know we'll survive but I also know this is going to suck. It's going to hurt and it's going to be a dark time. I just hope for a few glimpses of light along the way.
I know things will be fine. Life will go on both in Louisiana and Idaho. We will all adjust to new normals and then adjust again when that normal changes. We'll make it through minute by minute, hour by hour, and day by day.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
The Calm Before the Storm
Here I am. Again. Trying to gather my thoughts into sentences coherent enough to share. I am trying to get ready for my trip to Idaho on Tuesday. Making mental lists of what I need to bring, if I need to write anything down for Juan, trying to help Phoenix understand why he has to stay behind and why Mommy won't be home for a little while. I'm able to be calm and collected until I start to think of why I'm going to Idaho.
Truth is, I'm scared. I'm heart sick. I don't want to go. Not for the reason that's bringing me up there. The cold truth is that I'm going and I'm not leaving until my mom's fight is done. I am finally making the choice to go up there and help out in any way I can. To give my mom and, really, myself time to say goodbye and to send her off with all the love in my heart. To help Tony in any way I can. He has had to shoulder such an unbearable burden, one that I feel was partly mine to shoulder... I feel such gratitude for what he's done and how he has loved my mom every day... It's my job to help him help her now.
I feel pretty calm about all of it, at the moment. I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a tall cliff, looking down at the choppy water and knowing that I'm going to have to jump off in a little bit. I know the fall will be scary and the impact will hurt like hell. I know it'll take me a while to find myself and catch my breath, but I also know I'll do it and survive. I truly believe that while there will be tears and heart ache, we will find a way to have a few laughs and smiles.
I continue to pray for wisdom, strength, and grace. To be able to soldier on and do what needs doing. To be selfless and to serve my family, pull them through to the other end if I have to. To love them with every inch of my heart.
Truth is, I'm scared. I'm heart sick. I don't want to go. Not for the reason that's bringing me up there. The cold truth is that I'm going and I'm not leaving until my mom's fight is done. I am finally making the choice to go up there and help out in any way I can. To give my mom and, really, myself time to say goodbye and to send her off with all the love in my heart. To help Tony in any way I can. He has had to shoulder such an unbearable burden, one that I feel was partly mine to shoulder... I feel such gratitude for what he's done and how he has loved my mom every day... It's my job to help him help her now.
I feel pretty calm about all of it, at the moment. I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a tall cliff, looking down at the choppy water and knowing that I'm going to have to jump off in a little bit. I know the fall will be scary and the impact will hurt like hell. I know it'll take me a while to find myself and catch my breath, but I also know I'll do it and survive. I truly believe that while there will be tears and heart ache, we will find a way to have a few laughs and smiles.
I continue to pray for wisdom, strength, and grace. To be able to soldier on and do what needs doing. To be selfless and to serve my family, pull them through to the other end if I have to. To love them with every inch of my heart.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
On Anger
This week, I have been angry. I AM angry. So angry right now. I hate cancer. I hate what it does to families, to individuals, to one's body. I hate that cancer is a six letter word because it doesn't describe all the various types of cancer, all the various realities that come along with it. It needs to be bigger, harder to spell, difficult to pronounce. It needs to sound meaner, scarier, harsher.
With Mom's cancer coming back... it leaves me facing a darker reality. Her option, now, is chemotherapy.. and if that doesn't work.. an experimental surgery with lasers.. But even if chemotherapy works, we might, MIGHT, get two years... Just 24 months. Is it 2 years from today? 2 years from the end of the chemo? 2 years from last year ago? I know that we are not guaranteed to see tomorrow.. but to hear someone say you might only get 2 more years sounds so much scarier than to hear someone say we might not see tomorrow. 2 years is everything and nothing to me at the moment.
I'm angry that time goes so fast. I'm angry that it takes one full day of travel to get to where she is.. and I'm angry that it feels so far away from her. I'm angry that she's 57, I'm 30, and that life seems too short. I'm angry at the thoughts that whisper in my head... that weigh heavy on my heart and go where I don't want to go. I'm angry at the feeling that I need to hurry, to go, to be there because I feel like I'm losing her and I'm running out of time. I'm angry that I took so much for granted over the years. That I was young and dumb and wasted so much time.
I'm angry that I feel torn and that I almost wish someone would tell me to stay or go. I'm angry that I'm not there and I'm angry that I have to choose between my little family and my mother. (Note: No one is making me choose as I have nothing but support from my "little family" as to what I need to do.. when I feel I need to do it.. and for how long I feel I need to go..) I can't explain to my four year old that Mommy wants to leave to be with her Mommy for who knows how long. Is it even right to want to leave and not come back in a week? To leave my kiddo behind because I can't take care of him and of her at the same time? I'm angry that I don't have the time to break down and cry. I'm angry that I get told "Don't be sad" and "It'll be fine". I WANT it to be fine... but I want to scream "What if it's NOT? What do I DO?"
I'm angry because I feel selfish. I feel guilty. She's taken such good care of me and I'm not there to take care of her during this ordeal. I'm angry because I'm scared.. I want to believe it will all be okay. I pray for healing, strength, and miracles every day. I pray she will become a walking, talking, miracle.. And I'm angry that this little voice in my head whispers doubt and plays out little scenarios that do not have a happy ending. I'm angry that, through this, one thought always comes back.. "I'm not ready to be a woman without her mother". I'm angry that my son won't have the same relationship with my mom as he does and will have with Juan's mom. I'm angry that she may not be able to tell my kid(s) my story. My life through her eyes. That she won't be around for as long as I always thought she would.
I'm angry at her for not being fully open with me. For leading me on with positive reports when reality is beginning to crash down on us. For letting me think I'd get another 10 or 20 years with her. I'm angry with myself... For being angry with her.
I fucking hate cancer.
With Mom's cancer coming back... it leaves me facing a darker reality. Her option, now, is chemotherapy.. and if that doesn't work.. an experimental surgery with lasers.. But even if chemotherapy works, we might, MIGHT, get two years... Just 24 months. Is it 2 years from today? 2 years from the end of the chemo? 2 years from last year ago? I know that we are not guaranteed to see tomorrow.. but to hear someone say you might only get 2 more years sounds so much scarier than to hear someone say we might not see tomorrow. 2 years is everything and nothing to me at the moment.
I'm angry that time goes so fast. I'm angry that it takes one full day of travel to get to where she is.. and I'm angry that it feels so far away from her. I'm angry that she's 57, I'm 30, and that life seems too short. I'm angry at the thoughts that whisper in my head... that weigh heavy on my heart and go where I don't want to go. I'm angry at the feeling that I need to hurry, to go, to be there because I feel like I'm losing her and I'm running out of time. I'm angry that I took so much for granted over the years. That I was young and dumb and wasted so much time.
I'm angry that I feel torn and that I almost wish someone would tell me to stay or go. I'm angry that I'm not there and I'm angry that I have to choose between my little family and my mother. (Note: No one is making me choose as I have nothing but support from my "little family" as to what I need to do.. when I feel I need to do it.. and for how long I feel I need to go..) I can't explain to my four year old that Mommy wants to leave to be with her Mommy for who knows how long. Is it even right to want to leave and not come back in a week? To leave my kiddo behind because I can't take care of him and of her at the same time? I'm angry that I don't have the time to break down and cry. I'm angry that I get told "Don't be sad" and "It'll be fine". I WANT it to be fine... but I want to scream "What if it's NOT? What do I DO?"
I'm angry because I feel selfish. I feel guilty. She's taken such good care of me and I'm not there to take care of her during this ordeal. I'm angry because I'm scared.. I want to believe it will all be okay. I pray for healing, strength, and miracles every day. I pray she will become a walking, talking, miracle.. And I'm angry that this little voice in my head whispers doubt and plays out little scenarios that do not have a happy ending. I'm angry that, through this, one thought always comes back.. "I'm not ready to be a woman without her mother". I'm angry that my son won't have the same relationship with my mom as he does and will have with Juan's mom. I'm angry that she may not be able to tell my kid(s) my story. My life through her eyes. That she won't be around for as long as I always thought she would.
I'm angry at her for not being fully open with me. For leading me on with positive reports when reality is beginning to crash down on us. For letting me think I'd get another 10 or 20 years with her. I'm angry with myself... For being angry with her.
I fucking hate cancer.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
On Faith
So much for writing every day. Long story short, my mother's cancer is back.. It was back before we could even say, for sure, it was gone. She is, right now, getting a procedure done (4th or 5th time for this particular procedure) to try to drain excess bile fluid that is back-flowing into her liver. It was determined that there are most likely cancerous tumors blocking her bile duct again and causing this back-flow of fluid, her jaundice, pain, and exhaustion. She will also meet with a Seattle oncologist this week for a second opinion and, hopefully, a treatment plan that she can take back to her regular doctors in Idaho.
Phoenix and I were able to spend 10 days with her and my step-dad this month. Most of those days were spent in Seattle while she had procedures done to try to unblock her bile duct. They didn't work exactly and the doctors had to create a drain in her liver.. Today's stop in Seattle is to, hopefully, put in a bigger tube to drain more fluid faster and help alleviate her jaundice and whatnot. The trip was great in the sense that we got to finally, after more than two years, see each other, hug, and just spend time with each other. Stressful in the sense that I had to entertain my four year old for a few days in Seattle and figure out affordable things to do in walking distance or shuttle distance of our motel. But it was worth my time, stress, and $ to see my mom, share memories, create memories, and just be with her again. I didn't want to leave even though I longed for my house and my bed.
This post is supposed to be a little bit about faith. I've never really been one to stand on corners and proclaim in a loud voice my faith and beliefs. I've always just kept quiet and really only shared my thoughts when really moved to do so or when talking with good friends. I will say that during the past year, with my mom being sick and diagnosed with cancer, I have leaned on my faith even more. I have tried hard not to pray for specifics, but to pray for wisdom, strength, and the ability to be the person my mom would need during this time. I'm not in the ditches, first hand, to experience everything my mom is going through and, maybe, that's why I haven't felt anger at God specificallyor the need to question my faith... I've just had to hold on tight, close my eyes, and trust that we will get through this and see a bright future soon.
I think one reason why I haven't doubted my faith is that I feel I've gotten little messages along the way. I've also never really been one to talk to strangers unless it was about something trivial... like the weather or the bad customer service... or the weirdo creeping everyone out. But I've found myself talking about my mom's illness to people and have been blessed to have so many strangers tell me how they're praying/pulling for my mom. Her name has been added to prayer lists.. Strangers have bowed their heads before me and said quick, powerful prayers for her health. And every time, even if they go home and forget to pray for her, every time someone has said "I will pray for your mom", I feel as though it's a little message from God. That he is sending his prayer warriors to me to remind me that we are not alone and that He has not forgotten us.
I've even had people of different religions send me love and well wishes for my mom.. I think it's absolutely beautiful and am completely humbled and awed by those people willing to take a few seconds to care about my mom. Complete strangers, some of them, asking her name and sending her love and healing in whatever form they choose. It makes me feel connected to something greater than myself and it gives me hope that things will soon be better. It strengthens me during my weak moments and it makes me strive to pass on the goodwill by praying for those I come across that need help for various reasons. It's made me commit myself to going back to church, to finding a deeper, more personal path of faith, and holding on, tighter than ever, to the belief that we will have many, many years with my mom and that this will soon just be a speed bump we will briefly talk about now and then throughout the years.
Phoenix and I were able to spend 10 days with her and my step-dad this month. Most of those days were spent in Seattle while she had procedures done to try to unblock her bile duct. They didn't work exactly and the doctors had to create a drain in her liver.. Today's stop in Seattle is to, hopefully, put in a bigger tube to drain more fluid faster and help alleviate her jaundice and whatnot. The trip was great in the sense that we got to finally, after more than two years, see each other, hug, and just spend time with each other. Stressful in the sense that I had to entertain my four year old for a few days in Seattle and figure out affordable things to do in walking distance or shuttle distance of our motel. But it was worth my time, stress, and $ to see my mom, share memories, create memories, and just be with her again. I didn't want to leave even though I longed for my house and my bed.
This post is supposed to be a little bit about faith. I've never really been one to stand on corners and proclaim in a loud voice my faith and beliefs. I've always just kept quiet and really only shared my thoughts when really moved to do so or when talking with good friends. I will say that during the past year, with my mom being sick and diagnosed with cancer, I have leaned on my faith even more. I have tried hard not to pray for specifics, but to pray for wisdom, strength, and the ability to be the person my mom would need during this time. I'm not in the ditches, first hand, to experience everything my mom is going through and, maybe, that's why I haven't felt anger at God specificallyor the need to question my faith... I've just had to hold on tight, close my eyes, and trust that we will get through this and see a bright future soon.
I think one reason why I haven't doubted my faith is that I feel I've gotten little messages along the way. I've also never really been one to talk to strangers unless it was about something trivial... like the weather or the bad customer service... or the weirdo creeping everyone out. But I've found myself talking about my mom's illness to people and have been blessed to have so many strangers tell me how they're praying/pulling for my mom. Her name has been added to prayer lists.. Strangers have bowed their heads before me and said quick, powerful prayers for her health. And every time, even if they go home and forget to pray for her, every time someone has said "I will pray for your mom", I feel as though it's a little message from God. That he is sending his prayer warriors to me to remind me that we are not alone and that He has not forgotten us.
I've even had people of different religions send me love and well wishes for my mom.. I think it's absolutely beautiful and am completely humbled and awed by those people willing to take a few seconds to care about my mom. Complete strangers, some of them, asking her name and sending her love and healing in whatever form they choose. It makes me feel connected to something greater than myself and it gives me hope that things will soon be better. It strengthens me during my weak moments and it makes me strive to pass on the goodwill by praying for those I come across that need help for various reasons. It's made me commit myself to going back to church, to finding a deeper, more personal path of faith, and holding on, tighter than ever, to the belief that we will have many, many years with my mom and that this will soon just be a speed bump we will briefly talk about now and then throughout the years.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Change
I used to say I was terrible with change. Hated it. Tried to avoid it as much as possible. Fought change until I couldn't fight anymore. Funny. Because now I have learned to embrace it... even if there is a little bit of bittersweet to go with the excitement of change.
What am I talking about? A lot of things. Juan and I are very close to figuring out where we want to be in a year or so. (Location wise.) It's narrowed down but is still a matter of job and logistics. I'm uber excited though a little sad to think of leaving Lubbock... okay.. Really, just leaving my gym. I am in love with working out in my gym's pool every day. However, I know this isn't our "forever" home and am eager to find our spot of heaven and get a place with a backyard before my kid's too old to play outside.
Life is changing for my mom as well. She's doing pretty well with the radiation treatments and those will be winding down this week. Once she recovers from the fatigue and whatnot, she'll hopefully start to feel like her old self and it will be just in time for a visit from her one and only daughter (er, me) and her awesome grandson. We talked a little last night about the future for her and she said she wasn't going to go back to work. Due to her diagnosis, she will, in a way, retire early. She said this really made her think about life and how she doesn't want a stressful, thankless job now that she's had to kind of fight for her life. Her and my step-dad decided to put their little peace of heaven up for sale due to the not-so-wonderful winters and the distance from "civilization". It's exciting because they hope to move down to Florida (though I am lobbying hard for Texas re-location) and will be closer to us than they are in Idaho now. But it's sad because I know they love their Idaho property and that place just has this wonderful sense of peace and beauty to it that will be hard to replicate anywhere. But, ya know, they're getting older and they decided it's more important to make those memories with their scattered family than to spend the rest of their years up in Idaho without us. I get it. I support it, but I think I'll be a little sad on my trip up there because I love that spot of heaven..
So, this next year is anyone's guess as to where Juan and I'll be living, where my mom and step-dad will be, and what we'll be doing. But it's also exciting to think and dream about our future and to work towards goals that have always felt so far away. I hope to be done with my associate's before the end of 2012 and might start trying to get my foot in the door at a clinic or hospital as I begin to work on my bachelor's. Phoenix is almost done with his first year of preschool and might start full-day preschool next year depending on where we are. Life is changing. It's all good, but a little bittersweet as I think about the things we'll say goodbye to. Luckily, the excitement about the things we'll say hello to completely outweighs the little bittersweet feeling.
What am I talking about? A lot of things. Juan and I are very close to figuring out where we want to be in a year or so. (Location wise.) It's narrowed down but is still a matter of job and logistics. I'm uber excited though a little sad to think of leaving Lubbock... okay.. Really, just leaving my gym. I am in love with working out in my gym's pool every day. However, I know this isn't our "forever" home and am eager to find our spot of heaven and get a place with a backyard before my kid's too old to play outside.
Life is changing for my mom as well. She's doing pretty well with the radiation treatments and those will be winding down this week. Once she recovers from the fatigue and whatnot, she'll hopefully start to feel like her old self and it will be just in time for a visit from her one and only daughter (er, me) and her awesome grandson. We talked a little last night about the future for her and she said she wasn't going to go back to work. Due to her diagnosis, she will, in a way, retire early. She said this really made her think about life and how she doesn't want a stressful, thankless job now that she's had to kind of fight for her life. Her and my step-dad decided to put their little peace of heaven up for sale due to the not-so-wonderful winters and the distance from "civilization". It's exciting because they hope to move down to Florida (though I am lobbying hard for Texas re-location) and will be closer to us than they are in Idaho now. But it's sad because I know they love their Idaho property and that place just has this wonderful sense of peace and beauty to it that will be hard to replicate anywhere. But, ya know, they're getting older and they decided it's more important to make those memories with their scattered family than to spend the rest of their years up in Idaho without us. I get it. I support it, but I think I'll be a little sad on my trip up there because I love that spot of heaven..
So, this next year is anyone's guess as to where Juan and I'll be living, where my mom and step-dad will be, and what we'll be doing. But it's also exciting to think and dream about our future and to work towards goals that have always felt so far away. I hope to be done with my associate's before the end of 2012 and might start trying to get my foot in the door at a clinic or hospital as I begin to work on my bachelor's. Phoenix is almost done with his first year of preschool and might start full-day preschool next year depending on where we are. Life is changing. It's all good, but a little bittersweet as I think about the things we'll say goodbye to. Luckily, the excitement about the things we'll say hello to completely outweighs the little bittersweet feeling.
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