biancadarc.com Blog

Sad Anniversaries

September 30, 2010 on 6:50 pm | In Life | 5 Comments

If you wonder why I’ve been so quiet lately…

A year ago today, my Mom went in for surgery on her lung – or more accurately, the pleura, the area between the lung and the lining of the chest. We thought they’d be able to heal her but instead, the surgeon came out after giving up on her because he found so much cancer in there, he decided not to even try. That’s the way it sounded. He was an ass with no bedside manner.

Until then, nobody knew for sure whether or not she had cancer. All the tests she’d undergone in the month of September had come back negative and we were very optomistic. My Mom had been full of energy just a month before, always healthy and full of fire. She summed it up to me after one memorable doctor visit when she turned to me in the car and said, “And here I thought I would live forever.”

Everyone who knew her thought she would too. She was so invicible. She never let anything stop her and she never fell ill. Even a cold wouldn’t dare infect her. She was too healthy.

Or so we thought.

A year ago today, I stood at her side in the surgical ICU as tubes drained over four and a half liters of bloody fluid out of her chest. The surgeon installed a tube in her side that we hoped could come out at some point. Instead, she died with it still in her side, two days before Christmas. Between October and December, I held her hand each and every single time the nurse would come to drain the fluid that kept accumulating in her chest. It was a daily process and again we were fooled. The fluid clarified from dark red to a yellow color over time, which was a hopeful sign. It decreased when she started chemotherapy, which we also took to mean the chemo was working.

It wasn’t.

She died still planning to be better in “the Spring” – a magical time we hoped, prayed and planned for. A time that never came. For her.

My Srping was dismal. My Summer was worse. Fall is full of despair.

They say the first year is the worst. I hope they’re right – whoever they are – because I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

I try not to look at the calendar. I try not to know what date it is or think back to what was going on a year ago today — when I still had my Mom – my best friend. I dread the anniversary of her death, the coming of Christmas that is no more for me. I dread knowing it is more than a year. It’s an artificial milestone, I know, but it still feels like she’s close when I think it’s only been a year since I was happy. What will happen when it’s more than a year, I don’t know. I suppose people will lose patience with my grief. Many already have.

Those who didn’t have the kind of relationship with anyone that I had with my Mom will not understand and I feel sorry for them in a way. In another way, I envy them. They’ll never know this pain. Then again, they’ll never know the joy and love I experienced either. I was lucky. I know that. My Mom was one in a million. I learned so much from her and gained so much by following in her footsteps and learning from her example.

I just wish she were still here. She was too young to die and she took a large part of my heart and happiness with her.

Get Shareaholic

5 Comments »

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

You said, “What will happen when it’s more than a year, I don’t know. I suppose people will lose patience with my grief. Many already have.”

Too bad for them….grief is a process that is different for everyone and you have to complete it in your own time. I have a similar relationship to my mother and I can only imagine (in a nightmarish way) the devastation I will experience when something happens to her.

It is a cliche for a reason…One day at a time is very true in your situation and know that today someone is giving you support from afar.

Comment by Amy Kathryn — September 30, 2010 #
You have my deepest condolences.

I know what it is like to loose someone you really love.

Everyone deals differently with their grief. Even now, after 40 years, every Christmas is a little sad for me. It was Boxing Day when my father passed and he was only 45 years old.

It will get better, I know. But the sadness never completely goes away.

Valerie
in Germany

Comment by Valerie — October 1, 2010 #
*HUGS*

I wish there was more I could give…

I truly believe that your Mom lives inside of you and in your heart. She’s right there loving the amazing woman that you are.

Hang in there… Cry when you need to and laugh when you can…

*HUGS*

Lisa

Comment by Lisa Kessler — October 1, 2010 #
Ohh.. Bianca (hugs) I’ve been there heck I am still there. I lost my Mom a little over 5 year ago. We had a close and special relationship. I was there each day she was in the hospital. When she could speak, when they put her on the machine and she couldn’t and when she took her last breath. Although it has been five years I still feel like it was yesterday.

Some day’s I forget she is gone and think I can’t wait to tell her something or do something with her. When I remember she is gone it hurts. Deep. I cry when I think of things we used to do together or do something we have done together. Sometimes it even hurts to talk about her and I tear up. Grieving is a process. A personal one that each person must go through on their own timeframe. All I can advise is don’t worry about it. Grieve, rage, and cry as much as you need.

It gets better seems like a lie right now but it does. Then there are days when you kick better through the window and grieve, rage, and cry. It is up and down. Because it is the moments. I miss those moments with my Mom. The Sunday lay downs, dancing the living room, sharing hopes and dreams, just to name a few moments. Those moments you cannot share with anyone else. Those are the hardest.

If you ever need an ear or someone to cry with contact me. I’m more than willing to grieve with you, no matter how long it takes.

Comment by Taige Crenshaw — October 1, 2010 #
Bianca,

I’m living proof that time may not heal all wounds but it can lessen the strength of them.

I was 14 when my mother died, she struggled my whole life with her illness’s and then suddenly the day before I was to start High School she had a heart attack and was gone. I was numb, I felt alone, afraid, unloved and wished that it was all just a terrible dream. Each Minute, Each Day, Each Week was a journey in trying to live each day. My mom was the one person I thought would always be there and then she was gone.

It’s been 24 years since I said goodbye to her and I still feel the pain, I still find myself sad for no reason and then I look at the Calendar and see it’s her birthday or the anniversary of her death. But time has allowed me to see it from a different perspective, she was suffering with her illness, the strain of her meds were unfortuantely wearing her down and had she survived the heart attack they had no way of knowing if she would be the same after the lose of oxygen to hr brain.

The pain now is unbearable, but I believe in time it will lessen, you’ll be able to look back and see the good times, through your memories relive her love and her guidence. Your right to grieve is exactly that and remeber that there are people out there who will accept the fact that you need to grieve, for no matter how long.

Jenn

Comment by Jenn L — October 7, 2010 #