I miss you....

Once you have lost someone close to you it forces you to look at life more delicately. You fully realize how fragile the gift really is, and that you should live every day as if it is your last.

I miss my mom.

I miss her everyday, but today it hurts so deeply that it takes my breath away.
These moments come and go....and when they strike it is with random uncertainty.

I woke up this morning with hope and love in my heart for my husband, for my children and for me. Today is not a day of special meaning-it is just a plain ordinary Thursday. I was drinking a cup of coffee and reading the morning paper, when the pain hit me at my core. It came as it always does...no trigger, just a random thought and then waves of intense pain as I comprehend that my mother is really gone.

Ouch.

I miss my mom.

The kids were playing quietly downstairs, so I chose to close my eyes and attempt to see her, feel her, and smell her, as though she were sitting right next to me. I saw her hands...the lines and wrinkles, and her short stubby fingers in my mind. I could feel her hand wrapped around mine while sitting at the breakfast table....just as she always did in the mornings that she visited. Her presence enveloped me. I felt as though I was being held by her, if only for a second.

When I opened my eyes they filled with tears. And I let them fall into my coffee cup, and onto to the paper, staining the words in print. I cried until no tears were left. I cried for the grandchildren she won't see again, I cried for the spring she won't enjoy and I cried for all of the new experiences in my life that I can no longer share with her.

After a few minutes I got up, got dressed, and went about my morning.

This is the strangest thing about grief. It visits you when you least expect it. When you haven't prepared for it. And the moments drift off as quickly as they arrived. It is odd...the feeling of intense pain, followed by a feeling of calm.

I miss my mom.

But I know that my memory of her will keep her alive forever. I don't have any interest in numbing the pain.
I want to feel it. I welcome it.
For each time I experience it....I feel her with me, and in those moments she is still very much alive.

In memory of Judy and Mary and all of those mothers we have lost...whose love will never die.

In a second...

In a second two hopeful, talented young people were killed in a dormitory at Virginia Tech.....hours later, thirty more...murdered.
By now we have all read the stories, seen the coverage and heard the rumors.

A tragedy.

Is anyone at fault? Could they have done more? And who is "they" anyway?
Like you, I scratch my head at this sad set of events and ask why. Of course, we will never have a clear answer. Just assumptions, guesses, and lots of pieces of a puzzle that will never fully fit together.

Virginia Tech is a large school, not unlike the one that I attended 20 years ago. I was quick to ask why the authorities didn't do more. Why didn't they alert the students and faculty faster? Why not a mass e-mail or mass phone system alerting danger to all.....so many questions, and "what ifs".

Information is slowly surfacing. The shooter was a loner. An English major, who wrote pieces so disturbing that professors feared tutoring him one on one. I ask myself, why didn't they force this guy to get help? Why did they allow him to continue scripting these horrors on paper, in their classrooms? How did he continue to pursue his college career without mental help despite the pleas from professors, who brought the matter to the attention of administrators.
How did he slip through the cracks?

Sure, this tragedy could have happened anywhere. Nobody could have predicted.

Or could they?

When a student displays this type of odd social behavior, writes plays and stories of graphic, disturbing violence and hatred.....you CAN predict to some degree that this person is disturbed and capable of something deviant and evil.

I am so very sad for the families of these victims. So sad for all that surrounds this beautiful campus.

More than anything, I am angry.

Angry at why school officials blew off the warning signs. Angry that professors were scared of this kid, alerted high level administrators, and yet, nothing was done. Angry that this kid was permitted to fall so far under the radar screen that he walked into a store and legally purchased a weapon that serves NO purpose but to kill other people.

My heart hurts for all of those who have been touched by this tragedy. May they find peace and healing with time.

I don't blame the police or campus security for this tragedy.
I blame the university officials who ignored the repeated warnings over the last three years. If only they had paid attention. If only they had taken it seriously.

If only they had "gotten involved."

Standing in line.....

I spent my Saturday morning standing in line.
I got to the venue very early....one hour early to be exact, for fear that my child might not get a spot. The moms had been discussing the session options for months. This is my first child, so I listened intently...hoping to learn what I needed to know to "get in" early.
Every mom who has a pre-kindergarten going to camp this summer wants the coveted first morning session so it doesn't conflict with camp.....so we all knew we had to get there really early. I got my coffee, my reading materials, and my comfy clothes on in preparation for my wait. I didn't even go out late the night before, so I could be assured I wouldn't oversleep!

When I arrived I saw many familiar faces. The first ten mom's in line were other Jewish moms that I knew from various activities. One might say that it was quite a "scene". We were all happy to socialize with one another for an hour without the tug of five year old kids on our pant legs. I barely read a page of my magazine, I was too busy enjoying the coffee hour.
The line seemed to be getting longer by the minute, and I got a little worried when I didn't see one of my girlfriends anywhere in line. "I sure hope she gets into the right session" I thought. She surely couldn't have forgotten, after all, she was the one who reminded me several times about it.
Of course, this was my first time doing this.....but I felt proud that I was able to get up early enough to secure my son a spot. The first two or three people in line beat me, but I was still in the top ten.
Five minutes before the hour they "opened the doors" and we all got a little anxious. The director came over to us and began passing out the forms. We all filled them out in advance, making certain we spelled the name of the sponsor correctly. We didn't want to get up to the registration table and be unprepared.

Right on the hour they began letting us in. One by one we made our way to the tables, good mothers, doing the right thing.
Seconds before I left I realized that I still didn't see my friend. She must be in the very back....from the door it seemed the line might go on for miles, so I called her.
She answered. Uh, oh.
She forgot.
I scrambled with the help of another a friend to sign her child up while I heard her self loathing on the other line....she couldn't believe that she forgot about THIS! I spotted her the money, wrote the check, and managed to sign her child up as I passed through the table.
As I exited the room I realized that that the line wasn't quite as long as I imagined. As a matter of fact, there were only ten people or so behind me...and a couple of people were arriving right at the designated sign up time.
I noticed that most of the sign up forms were still there, and that many people weren't even there yet.
I felt a pang of embarrassment as I walked towards my car. I was embarrassed that I bought into all the hype, that I arrived so early thinking that this would be such an ordeal.

As I drove towards home I reflected amusingly on just how much my life has changed.
When I was younger there were very few things that I would label as "worthy" for waking up early on a Saturday.
There were very few things I would stand in line for with any strong determination.

They were:

Admittance to a very hot new club.
Tickets to a super hot Broadway show or a rock concert.
A line for a bathroom at a club on Friday or Saturday night after I had too many cocktails.

But today I am a mom. I am forever changed.
Today I didn't stand in line for anything that was dangerous, exciting, sexy or loud.

Today I waited in line for one hour and ten minutes so that my five year old to go to Safety Town the week before summer camp.
He will learn all the "how-tos" about going to school safely. He will learn to ride a bus, cross the street, and "say no" to drugs.

As I pulled into my driveway my embarrassment gave way to pride.
Suddenly, I couldn't think of one better reason in life to get up early.

My kids make every sacrifice worth it.

Why not be a fighter?

We can't pick up a newspaper or watch television without seeing or reading something about Elizabeth Edwards these days. She is everywhere. Sadly, however, as she fights for her life and her right to live it out as she chooses, she is being faced with enormous criticism. The criticism isn't coming from the political arena or from her medical team, it comes, instead, from her own sisters....other women and mothers just like herself. Some who have already faced a breast cancer diagnosis.

This makes me so sad.

I wrote a post awhile back about "mean women" The post was mainly about how harshly our gender treats one another. I got several comments that challenged what I observe about women as a whole....but I continue to see these behaviors everywhere and Ms. Edwards situation brings it out in the open once again.
Women are brutal to one another.
Mothers are brutal to one another.
We love to support our "sisters" and to stick together. But when one of our own does something that goes against our own moral compass we judge, we berate, we criticize.

I admire Elizabeth Edwards.

I see a woman with great strength, and tenacity. A woman who, in the fight for her life, refuses to give up.
I see a mother who is setting a good example for her young children.
Her children will always know that their mother was a fighter, that she didn't let cancer stop her from pursuing her dreams, and the dreams of her husband.
I see a woman who leave behind a legacy of will and class.

It is disheartening to read critical opinions that mothers all over our country have about Elizabeth Edwards. Some believe she is in denial, or that she is selfish for continuing to compaign. Others feel she was wrong to have children at an "older" age.

I am proud of her.
She will not let cancer win.
She is a true fighter.

I hope to teach my daughter to be that courageous and dignifed. To not let illness or any obstacle get in her way of pursuing life long aspirations and to stand tall and proud of who she is and what she stands for in the world.

When death calls you into the ring, why not be a fighter?