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Monday, April 17, 2017

4/17

I was supposed to write a post or do something to let her old friends or maybe my old friends know.  
So I sat in the kitchen for a minute trying to think of what to write or where to write it.  I figured here was a nice, comfy spot and ironic considering I always assumed my mom "padded," my blog stats (by opening the links a couple hundred times, making me feel like people read it). 
Because when I post this after finishing, she won't be sitting at her computer screen looking up crafts or planning a garden or opening this link.  Because somewhere between midnight and 6am on April 17th, she passed away.  
So as I sat in kitchen deciding this blog, I then wondered what I'd write when sitting down.  What could I say?  What's not cliche or corny?  So I asked, What's honest?  

My mom was the kind of person you'd meet or know or sit with and you'd walk away thinking "I wish my mom was more like that."  
Anything good you could say about me, it came from her.  If you think I'm nice or empathic, I don't know.... any positive characteristic I have, she gave it to me.  
I remember being a little kid and it was always "be nice to your brother and sister," and "treat people how you want to be treated," and constant attention to my life, and my brother and sister.  She just wanted everyone to be nice and get along and she did everything she could to ensure that wherever she was.  
And fed.  Probably in backwards order.  
Are you hungry?
Are you being nice?
And then, you're not in trouble, are you?

As a grandmother.... even better.  Really.  She taught the girls and put them right into this momentum they're carrying, of arts and literature and music and it's amazing.  I rarely write about them but my daughters are 4.0 students, can pick up nearly instrument and play something within 30 minutes, paint your crafts for the season then help plant your garden.  Clearly, I don't obtain those attributes and although their school brains comes from their mother, I see my moms "teachings," all over them.  They think and problem solve, I think my dad helped w that. They read between the lines and see you, they know when I lie.  
I always said "if Abby was taller, she'd work for me."  At this rate, I should be really nice to her.... she might be interviewing me in about 10 years.  Livi is a mini me, which might be a mini mom, so....

In mid-Feb when things unraveling, we sat in a room and talked.  And I saw the panic on her eye, the kind i saw when she'd need me to help her on some stairs... and she asked "would you be mad at me?" 
I asked for what.
She said "if I can't beat this...."
"No mom," even here caring how we feel about her cancer.  

This evening as I stood next to her body, only sister in the room, i held her hand and thanked her.   That's all I could think to say... thank you.
Thank you for helping raise the girls. 
Thank you for how you raised us. 
Thank you for being so supportive and kind and loving and helpful and everything you were.  
Things are a little darker without her light.