November 1st will make 12 years since my mother
passed away. I was only 16 at the
time. That means that four years from
now, I will be at the break even point of life where I will have lived the same
amount of time (and then longer) than I had lived with mom present. That’s a weird thought.
And I know that I write often enough about my mom and I know
it may drive you crazy. I promise you it’s
not all I think about. I promise you
that I don’t live in constant depression over it. But it does flair and there are definitely
certain times of the year that it’s more prevalent than others and if you don’t
understand, that’s ok too.
I write to remember because one of my biggest fears is to
forget. There is so much I have already
forgotten and so much that has to be spurred on by the thought/memory of
someone else to reshape the memory in my own head. Sometimes I wonder what’s true memory and
what images I conjured up over time to fill the void of memory.
But regardless, the last few days for various reasons, I’ve
been practicing the skill of remembering.
Remembering even if it hurts or makes me sad but remembering so that I
can keep those treasured memories long term.
It’s interesting though.
Some of the sharpest memories I have seared into my brain are from
November 1st-8th of 2003.
If you’ll bear with me (or you can stop reading), I want to list my
memories because when I list my memories, I am reminded to count my blessings
and treasure the people that came alongside the roughest of times. (This list will be incomplete. I can name names of those I didn’t get to
specifics on here but remember moments and times you were there. Thank you for being there.)
Saturday, November 1st-
I remember coming home with dad after seeing the movie Radio
in the movie theater (Dad, thanks for taking me to movies and football games and
restaurants and making memories with me).
Mom was supposed to be out shopping but we soon realized why she was
not.
I am thankful for our neighbors who were outdoors having a
Halloween Party. I lived next to a
daycare so she had CPR training and rushed over to help until the ambulance/police
arrived.
I remember arriving at the hospital and the small waiting room
so jam packed of my relatives and pastor, there were no more chairs and I
excused myself.
I remember calling my volleyball coach to tell her what I
was going on. I am so thankful for the
impact that so many of my coaches, teachers and other faculty at the school
played in my life. I asked her to be in
charge of letting the school administration know in hopes that the
administration would let my teachers know so that I wouldn’t have to tell
anyone.
Sunday, November 2nd-
I am pretty positive we were in church. Our house was inundated with food and flowers
and gifts. The support network of church
and the school district that both my parents worked for rallied around us.
Monday, November 3rd-
In my 13 years of public school education, I was only absent
one day and that was in 2nd grade because I had surgery. I packed up my things and headed to school as
normal….I needed some normalcy in my life and some distraction.
I got to school early (6:30ish) and hit up two of my normal
places.
I snuck my way into the athletic locker rooms to put stuff
away and the first person I saw that day was a coach who was beaming with a
smile and she bid me a “good morning” to which I am sure I replied a dry “morning”
to. I knew she didn’t know at the time,
but by afternoon, she came to find me and apologized profusely with her beaming
“good morning” etched hard into her mind.
She didn’t know.
After this encounter, I headed over to the training
room. I was really tight with the
athletic trainer and it was one of my favorite places to hang out. I walked into the office and she was busy
wrapping up ankles for the football guys that were soon to be headed to
practice. I knew she was busy but I
wanted her to find out from me, so I found a sticky note and wrote a quick note
about what happened and walked away. I
walked out and headed back towards the locker rooms but I maybe got halfway
across the gym when she called out to me and bid me back. A, you were a rock in my hard place and I am
so thankful you walked me through that season and let me walk you through when
you faced almost the same within the next year or so.
Also that morning before school started, 7:15 or 30, I’d
guess, I headed over to the counseling department that was settled in to the
center of the school (financial aid and migrant counseling). There were three women that worked in that
area and I was close to them all. I had
spent a lot of time in those offices since I was a sophomore so I knew those
ladies well and they were dear to my heart.
I sat in the financial aid office first just spacing, trying to figure
out how to tell Ms. G but I didn’t know how.
All these women knew my mom. My
mom was a fixture when it came to anything involving me. My mom was the one that got me and Ms. G
connected in the financial aid office knowing that I was going to need all the
help I could get for college readiness financially. Anyway, I didn’t know how to tell Mrs. G, so
I popped my head in at the migrant office and told the two ladies there so that
they could pass it on because I just couldn’t tell her myself. They told her and then nearly forced me to
return home, but I am wicked stubborn so I stayed and they let me. They kept a close eye on me though, as did
many people.
General School Interactions:
My very first class on Monday mornings was Spanish 3. It just so happens that October 31st-November
2nd is a Mexican holiday called Dia de los Muertos (Day of the
Dead). So of course, in my Spanish class
that was going to be the topic of discussion.
I sat down and was writing notes back and forth with one of my good
friends in the class. I can remember it
like it was yesterday. I simply wrote “I
lost my mom” to which she replied, “what do you mean, you lost her?” As only epic timing would have it, as we were
passing notes back and forth, my teacher announced to the class that my mom had
passed and somehow tied it into Dia de los Muertos. I looked at my friend and it was like a light
bulb turned on so fast, it blew a fuse.
Speaking of blowing a fuse, I was peaved at how that news was
handled. I don’t know what I was
expecting though…everyone would find out and yet I showed up to see it all
unravel.
My English teacher wasn’t there that Monday so when she
returned to class on Friday, the news of mom’s death was old news and assumed
knowledge. She was giving a writing
prompt and someone asked her to give an example of what she would write
about. She then began talking about her
own mother, who was 99, soon to turn 100 years old, in decent health. She went on and on about how thankful and
grateful she was to still have a mother as my teacher was a grandmother
herself. I felt sick so for the first
time ever, I walked out of class. I couldn’t
handle it anymore. It felt so very
unfair. I felt robbed.
As I was walking in the English hall towards the bathrooms,
one of my former teachers stopped me to ask if my mom found me. I was shocked and asked for
clarification. Turns out my mom was in
the building the Friday before looking for me and she had asked my former teacher
so he was just touching base. I said yes
she had found me and moved along. He
also later found me, hugged me and apologized.
Talk about epic timing but story of my life….
I got two postboard cards from people at the school. Signatures and well wishes from close friends
and people I didn’t even know. Several
hundred signatures filled up those posterboards. As much as I muscled through those last two
years of high school, I can’t deny that people didn’t try…I just built my walls
high.
I remember my friends and teammates who just sat silently by
but I was so very thankful. They didn’t
shy away because they didn’t know what to say.
Just stuck by my side. I remember
my coaches, bringing me into the office, letting me sit on top of the tabletop
and just letting whatever happened happened.
Sometimes it was listening to me spill, sometimes watching me cry,
sometimes asking questions, or speaking wise words. Always open doors though. Several of my teachers were the same
way. And as I said before, the training room
was always a safe haven as was the counselors office.
And then there is my family.
My wonderful family who rallied, supported, encouraged and mourned with
us. Thank you for your love, support,
guidance, and prayers. Thank you for as
long as I was living down there, keeping up with the tradition of having
birthday dinners on birthday months and keeping food and family close. J
So to the family, friends, acquaintances who knew mom and
saw me through those years after mom passed.
I apologize for my selfishness in the walls I built and leaving them up
for years. But I thank you so much…for being
there and understanding….for continuing to understand…for continuing to
remember. For continuing to feed me
memories so that I can truly say, that though mom is gone, Hope still lives on.
Until next time,
May the memories pile on,
Joy
