Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

Mom and me while getting ready before my wedding.
September 4, 2010.

It’s been a year since I kissed you goodbye. So much has happened and changed since you left, and I think you’d be so proud of all of us.

I have said a few times that I miss you the most on bad days. I think I say that because you always had a way of helping me regain perspective; it’s never the end of the world, meltdowns are often avoidable, and pity parties are overrated.

The truth is that I think I actually miss you the most on the really good days. I have only had a few truly great, smiling from ear-to-ear days since you've been gone, but God, I miss how exciting those days would have been to you. You loved good days. Dad, Kassie and I have always thought the motto “If momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy” to be a lot funnier than it’s actually meant to be, simply because of how completely, one-hundred-percent true it always was. If you were unhappy, stressed, angry, or upset – it was hard to be happy. If it was our fault that you were angry or upset, we’d tiptoe around to try to keep from making it worse. If it was an outside force, we’d try to cheer you up. But the phrase can also be inverted, because when you were happy it was contagious. If you were proud of us, we beamed. If you had fun at a party, chances were that there were many smiling faces around you.

I've fought a lot of battles with myself this year, and I haven’t won all of them. It has been very, very hard, and there were a few days when it wasn't worth it to get out of bed. How was I supposed to function without all the texts, emails, and phone calls we once shared? How was I supposed to go to the mall to buy shoes when the shadows of all of our fun shopping trips were there to remind me of how alone I was? What was the point in writing anything or making anything when you weren't there to tell me how great or creative you thought I was?

How was I supposed to find the strength I needed – the strength you’d told me I had – without you there to remind me how to find it? No one understood me the way you did. And no one ever will.

Thanks to hours of therapy and reflection, I feel like you’re not completely gone anymore. You’re not physically here, and it is a struggle for me every day to cope with that, but I've started to feel you in my gut.

I say “gut” and not “heart” because my heart is weak and not to be trusted. It is broken and wounded, and so I treat it very gently but don’t listen to it very often these days. My gut, however, is where you are. It is where my strength and fortitude live. When my heart tells me that I’ll never be whole again, and that I can’t take any more pain, my gut roars through my veins, “Pity parties are over-rated!” My gut reminds me what you’d say to me, and encourages me to move forward through the pain.

I used to become inconsolable when I tried to think about what you’d say or do in a situation. It wasn’t fair that you weren't here to tell me yourself. I cursed God, the universe, and every doctor and scientist who ever lived. But now that some time has passed, and, as I hesitantly admit, I’ve gained some distance from that awful night, I rely on your voice. You've talked me through some really rough nights, and helped me regain perspective when it’s been lost.

I know, because of who I am and who you were, that I will always miss you. I’ll always wish I could text you when I’m having a bad day or have lunch or go shopping. But I also know I couldn't have gotten through this year if you hadn't been the wonderful mother you were.

I love you. Always.

A Year Ago: A Grateful Friend

I love to travel.

I like to head off in a direction with less than an entire plan and just go for it.

For some reason, this doesn't trigger my anxiety. It does the opposite, in fact; it makes me feel strong and independent and important.

A year ago I went on a trip to England and Scotland by myself.

It was a gift from my husband who isn't too big on traveling. He gave me his bonus money from work and told me to go wherever I wanted.

I chose England, because when I’d gone there a few years ago, I’d only spent a day in London and a day in the English countryside, which was all traveling. Two friends of mine were living in London at the time, so I figured I could see the sights with them, as well as have a place to stay.

I met Jessica and Kate when I was a student at UNL. Kate was an international student from Australia who lived in my dorm during my second year at UNL, and Jessica was someone I clicked with in one of my favorite classes at the University. Kate is a teacher, living in London, and Jessica was in grad school at University College-London.

Before I left Nebraska, I was on the fence about going on my trip, because my mom wasn't doing very well.  She told me I should definitely go, because if anything happened, which it probably wouldn't, I could change my flight and get back in less than a day. I really wasn't sure what to do, but in the end, I listened to my mom, and I went.

Me and Kate right after I arrived in London.

Me and Kate, with Stonehenge in the background!

Stonehenge

When I got there, it was so good to spend time with Kate, who I hadn't seen in over a year, and go shopping, see movies, and take a day trip out to Bath and Stonehenge. I took a trip from London to Edinburgh, and explored that city, as well as part of the Scottish Highlands for two days. I stayed in a hostel with six Swedish boys who stayed up until 4am both nights, drinking beer and playing Beatles songs on the guitar. I walked eleven miles in one day and barely noticed. I met a Russian girl named Olga who was working as a nanny in Paris and taking a trip through Scotland, Ireland, and Wales by herself while the family was on holiday.

View of Edinburgh from the top of Edinburgh Castle

After I got back from Scotland, I stayed with Jessica. I met some of her classmates and friends, and we watched Kill Bill and planned a day trip to Brighton (or Bristol? I've forgotten!) with Kate. The next night, walking back from the tube station, I got a text from my dad that he needed me to call him when I could.

I was in the middle of the street, not far from where Jude Law and Hugh Laurie allegedly lived. My stomach dropped, and I began to sweat, despite the chill in the air. I dialed his number without even explaining to Jessica what was going on.

My dad answered and said I should call him back once I was back at Jessica’s and not on the street, and I told him I couldn't wait.

I don’t remember the rest of the conversation. I remember feeling sick and I remember crying. I remember calling Kate who lived pretty far from Jessica’s place, and asking her to come over. It was after midnight, so she couldn't take the tube. She ended up taking an expensive cab ride over.

They both sat with me while I packed and made plans to leave London. Max called the airline and got them to change my flight.

They waived all the fees.

My memory of that night is blurry. I think Jessica and Kate both napped in Jessica’s tiny dorm room while I racked up a $282 phone bill crying and listening to my mom tell me, in a sleepy voice, all the things she was sad she was going to miss in my life. She said she was sad, but she wasn't frightened, and she wasn't angry.

Just before 6am, I woke Kate and Jessica up, telling them I was going to head for the tube. They both came with me (and took turns carrying my insanely, stupidly heavy duffel), and during that hour-long commute to Heathrow, I took a photo of my two friends that I will always treasure:

Kate and Jessica on the tube, the morning I left London

It is probably not be the most flattering picture ever taken of either of them. But on that horrible, awful morning when it felt like my entire life was coming apart at the edges, I felt so completely supported and cared for. I wasn't alone.

I’m not going to say that I've never felt alone over the past year, but looking back, especially in moments like the ones I captured in that photograph, I know I never was alone. I've been completely surrounded on all sides by the compassion and strength of friends, family, and even complete strangers.

I've never been more grateful for anything in my life.

Focus and Simplicity

My natural state of being is that of a “dabbler.” I am an expert on the basics of many, many activities, hobbies, pastimes, subjects, and theories. I think this is due to my love of learning and creating and that I either haven’t found “my thing” yet, or that I passed it by ages ago in a flurry of activity and was too busy to notice. When my peers were deciding what they wanted to be when they grew up, or at least on college majors and classes, I usually closed my eyes, spun around in circles, and if the direction I saw when I opened my eyes seemed interesting, I went for it.

That’s pretty much how I live my day-to-day existence –I go to work, come home, take care of those daily tasks that need taken care of, and then the evening is mine to create whatever I want to create. Then I take lots of pictures and post them on Instagram for people to say “oh my, you are so creative! You’re so talented!”

The reason the above quote by Steve Jobs has resonated so strongly with me is that all this dabbling has largely been a coping mechanism for me over the past decade – being directionless is actually kind of terrifying. And adding to the terror, halfway through the last decade, the one person who always believed I would find my direction and own it wholly, got sick. And then she became my direction, and I continued my furious habit of doing a million things a day without actually accomplishing anything just to keep busy. And now she’s gone, and I’m busier than ever, but now I feel like it is all lacking something very important.

Direction.

Purpose.

Focus.

How can I know what to focus on, when I don’t even have a clear direction or purpose? When I look into the future, I see a bright, hazy picture of decades to come, fighting with myself over who I am and who I want to be.

I am not the biggest Steve Jobs fan. Word on the street is that he was kind of a douchebag. But I do know that he accomplished big, big things, and I think that he must have known a thing or two about focus and moving mountains.

To live a focused, simpler life where all of the day-to-day “stuff” doesn’t cloud my vision – to live deliberately, not just greeting things and people as they approach, is my goal. I don’t know where my mountain is yet, or what it looks like, but I like to think that once I find it, I’ll be able to grit my teeth, and move it pretty far. And being the plugged-in extrovert I am, you will all probably know all about it.

Lucky you.

Love.