3,703...

 That is how long it has been.  3, 703  days since I have put any words to paper, articulated my thoughts, shared my heart.  In that time, I have laughed, celebrated, cried, and been devastated.  However, none of those days could have prepared me for my current stay of being.  They say, eventually you will loose your parents and then you are the adult. Like, I won't have an adulterer adult to turn to.  I won't  have anyone in my head telling me to figure it out. All I will have is the desperation of trying to remember what a voice sounded like, the inflection, the tone, the lilt in your voice.  Instead, it will be a memory.  Right at the very moment, my heart is being squeezed, as if someone is trying to get the very last drop out.  My mom is sick.  My best friend, my mentor, the one who taught me how to cook, how to to "mom" properly, how to hang laundry on the line in the proper order, how to fold a fitted sheet (I can do that in my sleep).A skill, that has gone the way of the do-do bird.

Lung cancer. Are  you happy universe? I said it. What stage? I don't know.What kind? I don't know that either. What I DO know (get ready for a plot twist) She has not 1, but 3 leaky heart valves. She's in stage 3 renal failure.  She's 83. She was not able to have a PET scan b/c it would have destroyed her kidneys.  That being said, how the hell is her body going to handle the poison of chemotherapy that will course through her body in order to heal her.  I think if it were just a diagnosis of cancer I would be "ok" but when you add in all the "extras" it becomes almost too much.  If I thought I could not breathe when dad was sick, and that was enough to break me, this will send me to my breaking point for sure.

I did something the other day, I went back and I reread some of my posts. I don't ever do that, because some of them hurt so much and it brings me right back to where I was, what I thought, what I felt and it is still as gut wrenching now as it was then. It's like the band-aid was re-applied only to be ripped off again.  What made it harder, was the fact that she ALWAYS read my blog and left me comments so I knew that she was there, and that when I could do nothing, I could articulate rather accurately how we both felt even though she was too brave to let it show.  I think I get my grit from her.  No, strike that, I KNOW I get my grit from her.  I guess now, when I put all these thoughts and feelings out in the universe, it's safe. I know they won't be read by her, because it's been so. damn. long. since I have written anything.  But this one? Panic attack on going please. I am angry. I am scared to death. I am wanting to be hopeful, but remain realistic. 

Mom remarried  you know. After dad died.  A really nice guy who takes care of her and looks after her. I am currently 50 and I have a step dad.  Odd feeling, for sure. But, Super nice guy and I can only hope that every one gets a Howie of their own. He tells dad jokes, has the same ones in his set list. The kids love him. We love him.  He takes care of her, makes sure she has what she needs and even things she doesn't need.  He's thoughtful, and kind and generous. 

I cannot imagine a world with out her in it. The fact that my brain is even considering this is crazy. Like What the hell. I would say fight. But the reality is, I am not sure what is a safe fight.  What's fair. There are a few plot twists in all of this.  She has an 8cm mass surrounding her adrenal gland and there is a 50/50 chance it's cancer too. They can't biopsy that adrenal gland bc she would either stroke out, have a heart attack, or die. She can't have it removed as she's not a candidate for major surgery. :/

There is so much more, more that makes my heart hurt.  More that I just don't want to deal with. At some point, I know I will need to, but for now, I will save those thoughts for later.

Peace out, Girl Scout.

New Year, New Beginnings and a fresh start....

Yes, that is all that it entails.  I have take some time off from everything I used to do.  The norm that once was my life has gone to the way side.  2014 is brand new, and full of promises.  One of my resolutions this year was to get back into my blog, and to Petie. I have been asked from time to time for a new Petie story.  He is alive and well.  He's a little chubbier than he was, and a little crankier than he was. (I like to think he's maturing.)

Mom has put a bid in on a home down the street from me and has put hers on the market.  I have mixed emotions on that.  I will love having her close, and the kids will be with her all the time I am certain. That place was where I spent a good deal of my child hood.  Not the get in trouble every 10 minutes part of childhood, but the life altering, life changing moments part of my child hood.  Some good, some, not so good, but all of them were had there, on that property.  I lost my brother, on that property.  I graduated high school on that property.  I learned to drive and got engaged on that property.  I said goodbye to my single life on that property. I brought my babies back to that property.  My 12 year old finds peach there, at the same places I did. it's weird. I buried my dad at that property. So while most of it is good, there are some parts I will be glad to leave behind.  I was once told not to regret the things in the past, they help shape you for who you are today. I agree with that.
It's time to make a new start, and a new beginning with mom here with me.

So, stay tuned, you haven't heard the last from me yet! :)

Peace out, Girl Scout!

What a difference a year makes...

you know, I seldom look back at what I have written.  Sure, I read the comments, but I usually don't look back. Partly because it hurts to much, partly because this is how I heal, and partly because well, I get to busy. Don't we all? Lots has happened since I blogged last. Some of it great. Some of it heart breaking. Some of it, well I will just tuck it away and look at it another day.
Mom and dad came down to see our renovation/house addition this summer August I should think. We were not sure dad would be strong enough to make the 2 hour trip here, but he made it.  he even climbed the stairs to see what the contractor did.  He has always liked our town, and our place.  It was cool last year showing him the plans for the addition.  he liked seeing what we were planning on doing.  After touring the place and playing with the new pup( who LOVED sitting on his foot) he said (and I quote) " you know, when this is all done, it's going to be one HELL of a shack." Probably the highest compliment our builder has ever been paid. That made me probably the happiest was hearing that. Part of me was sad that say too, because I knew he probably would not be coming down again to see our home. He was getting thinner, the cancer was winning, although he was still giving it hell, his body was getting weaker.  Part of me thinks that he was just making sure that we were going to be settled in and OK if he went. Makes me sad to think about it.
Last year at this time, we were making holiday plans.  My niece had flown in the month before to have a thanksgiving with us. Dad ended up in the hosp last Christmas. So we did what we do best.  We all rallied around him in his hospital room.we took pictures of us with him, him with my mother and my Aunt bless her heart turned one of the photos of dad and I into a pencil drawing.  I will cherish it always.  I baked him the butter cookies he loves and several others that i knew he always liked.  I didn't make him gingerbread, which I have done for the past 9 or so years. I ran out of time, and unfortunately he was running out as well. Sigh. We went back to moms and made as merry as we could, to help mom, to help ourselves have some type of semblance of normal even though the one who loved seeing us all together was sorely missed.  his chair that was vacant reminded me of Tiny Tim's spot at the table. broke my heart, but hey with enough cocktails you push through it and laugh along with everyone else. I think deep down I knew this would be our last Christmas with him.  I had talked to my sister and wanted to do New year's eve with my parents like we used to when we were kids, but that didn't happen either.  I think we had gotten a storm that day, but again another regret to add to my ever growing list. I called mom every other day to check on her, tried to sooth her as she cried the whole time being numb from the reality that I knew was going to happen to us sooner or later.
We broke ground on our addition in May, and the summer was a whirl wind or business and planning.  I swear if I never go into a home improvement store to look at things again it will be too soon. but that is a blog post for a whole 'nother day.
We got the call at 2 a.m., September 11th, saying he was gone. He was no longer with us. I laid in bed for about 20 minutes letting it sink in. I couldn't wrap my head around it. I did laundry, I packed. I waited for 7a.m. for the kids to wake so we could load the car and leave. it's a blur really. I remember moving through the day in a slow motion/lightening fast speed kind of pace. Ever have that? it's weird, that's for sure.
I went to the funeral home, to drop off some papers they needed while mom waited in the car, and when I went in, on the floor in a purple bag in front of the coffin was my dad. He has just come back from the crematorium. and I went to the bad and sat of the floor and held it in my lap as the tears slid. Here was my dad. all 6'4" of him reduced to nothing more than a small package, it was more than my heart could take.  I know it was never meant for me to see that, but the funeral director had been called away suddenly and the care taker did not want to put him inside the coffin. I will never, ever forget feeling as lost as I did that moment. Who am I now with out him? Sure mom is still here and she is everything to me, but I felt as though my conviction was there in that purple bag.
I will spare you reading about the pain I felt the day of the funeral. Like I said somethings are just to hard to look back on. I tried to be stoic. I tried to be strong. I broke. I couldn't breathe. I don't think I have ever held some one's hand ad hard as I held my mothers. willing her to be OK. willing myself to fill my lungs with air.
days slid into one another. he was gone, the funeral was over, now it was time to start to heal. September gave was to October, and then to November, and now, well, it's December and I am finding myself at odds these days.  I am trying to go through all the motions, and for the most part, it is working. My kids are beyond excited. I WANT to be excited, but I feel, blah. This was the time of year he liked a lot. he loved seeing the kids, and loved eating the cookies, and the food. Loved watching my kids run through the house and swipe small chocolates off the hutch that mom had placed out on dishes along with about 1,000 different cookies. The thought makes me smile.
I find that more and more I miss him. I can;t pick up the phone and go "hey pops!" and hear back "Hey, whatcha' doin'?" or "Talk to your mudder" when he didn't feel like being social. Just once more. I can hear him in my head so that will have to do. Mom, well she's getting by as well.  I think she's OK, but I also think there is alot she is shielding from me. It's hard to be married for 53 years and then alone.
for the 3 of you that still read my blog- thanks for letting me vent.
I will make ginger bread this year, for pops. they will get stale and go uneaten, but they will be for him., and for the soul I am trying so desperately hard to sooth.
My first Christmas without him. it stings a bit. Hit me when I went shopping the other day. I was in a store that had all kinds of country stuff in it. Americana cutesy stuff in it. in the corner was a sign in blue (his favorite color) that said nothing more than "Amazing Grace" (his fav song) all twinkly and shiny and clearly, out of place. I saw it and it stopped me dead in my tracks and once again tears flowed down my cheeks. He as out there,  and just needed to let me know that. I love you Pops. Always. forever.xoxoxo

This past weekend

was a blur.  I mean like warp speed, hold on to your hat, Ethel, blur. Dad's PET scan was today. And well, let's just say that yours truly had a hard time processing all the information on Friday.  Hubs called and asked me to go to Cape May.  Those of you that know me, know that I am not a spur of the moment kind of girl.  I am a make a list, cross check it not once, but twice to make sure everything is ok kind of girl.  I have 3 kids and various pets to care for, not to mention my own sanity.  People have said I **tend** to over think things.  I think they are pulling my leg!  Me, over think/analyse things?  Pshaw, Surly they jest!
Ok, so I succumb to hubs request.  partly b/c he told the kids first.  (dirty pool, old man, dirty pool). But not before I had talked to mom, and told her that I want to get dad to the shore.  He LOVES the shore.  The beach, the food, the sand, the food... so we decide that on one weekend we will do it.  Now, it is a three hour ride from my house, and a 2 1/2 hr ride from my parents house to mine.  that's (if I do the math correct) 5 1/2 hrs of car riding for him... That's a LOT.  I want him to go before, well just before.  I need one more moment with him in Cape May. One more walk on the beach. One more time to listen to the surf. Just one more moment.  We are hopeful that June will do the trick. There is something about going to the shore. When we go to Cape May, we always stop at Ducky's produce, go to the beach and then have lunch at a local place called Mugs.  I LOVE mugs.  I have LOVED mugs since we started going there.  Mugs is a salt of the earth, Cheers type bar, with (what else) mugs n the celing.  they face a certain direction, and then when the soul passes, the mug gets turned the other way.  I tried to buy a mug for Dad, but alas, they no longer sell them. :(
Off we went to Diamond Beach, to fly a kite and watch the fishermen shore fish nothing more than horse shoe crabs.
There is something about the shore.  Maybe it's my Jersey roots, maybe it's the ocean, I am not sure. It was healing. To have my own thoughts drowned out by nothing more than the pounding surf.  (It's what every over thinker needs).  While hubby coraled the kiddos, I was left to my thoughts, where ever they may roam.  I thought a lot.  I thought about life, what it means.  I thought about death and the implications.  I saw weddings, which reminded me of new beginnings, and I was lots of baby bumps which reminded me of the hope for the future.  None of those people were plagued with my thoughts.  None of them seemed to share my heavy heart. So back to the beach I went to stand in the frigid (60 degree) water and listen to the gulls cry and the waves crash.  My kids giggled and laughed and chased sand pipers and gulls.   They made sand castes and dug up baby horse shoe crabs. They giggled. They ran. They splashed and oddly enough, they left me be, except for a random "run by hugging". (love those nutty kids)
We left the beach and a piece of my heart with it on the beach.  Will we be successful in taking dad back there?  I hope so, but am not hopeful...  I dread Thursday.  I dread getting the results of his test back.  I worry that I will not be strong enough to hear the news and that I will just succumb to all this emotion. (again, those of you that know me, know I am not overly emotional, especially in public.  I am a fall apart by myself, when it is all over with type of girl) and my husband hugged me hard today and said " you know all you need to do is call, and I will be right there. You know that, right?" (If that is not enough to make me weep, I don't know what is.
Sunday... I needed to go home to see dad.  I needed to just put my hands on him, and see for myself.  I needed to check on Mom, to make sure she was doing ok. so they had no idea that I was coming with the kids. I thought it a good idea to call when I was half way home, just to avoid any surprises.  This is how the conversation went;
Me: "Hey Pops! How are ya?"
P: Eh, not so bad. What are you doing (he almost never asks what am I doing)
M: Well pops, I thought I would have lunch with you and mom
P: Well, come on then.

His voice was so strong. It made my heart sing. Surely the Dr's are wrong, right?
Wrong.  I went home to see them both, and assessed the room.  he looks tired, worn down, and just, old.  He still has the same carismatic doll like aura, but he is fighting and you can see now, he is getting pretty beat up.  Mom asked me if I had brought my camera, and I had forgotten it in my rush to get out the door.  (see, had I been properly prepared and over thought it all, I would have had it)

Kimberly comes skipping into the living room and asks for a piece of candy. (again, those of you that know me... My own sister calls me the candy nazi)
I said no to her.  Dad looked at me and said "why not? she doesn't have enough ass to make a poor man a bowl of soup, she can have candy"
afy=ter lunch I tell him, in a whisper, because I am fighting back this lump that has risen in my throat.  Dad has always had what I refer to as "wayne-isms" you know, that phrases that only a certain person can say and it makes total sense coming from them.  I didn't know whether to laugh, or burst into tears. I chose to get up and walk into the other room, feigning the search for the third cat they say they have, but I can never find.
It was a lovely day. Lunch with mom, and the kids. Visiting with dad....

and mom, if your reading this, you never cease to amaze me with your strength, and some day, you'll have to tell me how you do it.  I love you. Always. Forever.

I.Can't. Breathe.

or so it feels.  The rug has been pulled out from under my feet and I am not sure which way is up any more.  Mom called me today and told me Dad had a Dr. appointment.  his marker numbers went from 425 three weeks ago to 2550.  Last week they were 1770, I thought they read the report wrong. I mean he was doing so well! What the hell??So this means either the tumor is growing or the cancer is spreading or both...  I had to sit once she told me that because truly all the air left my lungs as I struggled to process this information.  I had let my guard down, and started to relax a bit because he was doing great.  he even went and tried his lawn tractor out.  I mean LOOK at him! Look at her, that was taken at Easter, and then a few weeks later we took some more! He's thin, yes, but look at the color in his cheeks! He was doing so good!!!! He has a PET scan on Monday, and that will give us some results on Thursday and they can plan their attack. Pray my friends. Please.  he's a  good man. He deserves to beat this.  He was excited to be doing so well.  I am desperately afraid that he will give up now, that his numbers have gone so high in such a short amount of time.

I love you, Daddy. Please fight. And when you can't fight, lean on me, I'll be strong enough for the both of us.

And Mom, I know you're out there being all stoic.  it's ok to cry.  I've got shoulders enough to hold all your tears.  I can handle it.  Don't try and hold them back, let them come. And when they do, feel my arms around you. You're not alone. You're in my heart, and in my prayers. I love you. Forever. Always. Xoxo.

It's only 10 days

till my birthday, or so the counter on the side says. you know, so much has been going on, that I didn't even realize it. It feels like it is eons away. Let me bring you all up to speed...
first, Dad. Dad is doing great! He is continuing to respond to chemo, and we had a wonderful Easter with him and mom and the rest of the family. Here's the thing. (and with me, there's usually a thing) I have since my brother was killed, hated Easter. Loathed it. I would have been happy if I could have stayed in bed with the covers over my head. Seems like a completely irrational hatred for a seemingly harmless holiday. I can't exactly recall why I loathe it so much. Maybe it was because Scott used to help hide the eggs, and eat all the chocolate. (except mine, because I don't like regular chocolate, I like white. In fact, if chocolate were to disappear off the face of the earth, I would be totally fine with it.) But this year, Easter took on a whole new meaning. It was time to spend with my family, relishing in their company and chatter. Look forward to the pictures, the loudness that IS my family, and just being together in the comfortable solace of the dining room at mom's. That's where we all converge, once we have left the kitchen.
this Easter, the atmosphere was so much lighter, so much happier. (Much better than Christmas time, dad was not in the hosp. for one) I will post pictures because they came out so nice! :)
second, our loan is FINALLY closed. We have been trying to secure a loan to go up a story on our home, since December of 2010. YUP. 2010. After so many exusting factors we signed the papers last Friday and the construction is due to start May 7. (Happy late b day to me). So now all the "fun" starts- cleaning out closets, cleaning out everything in order to make way for the stairs, and then the roof coming off and all... Pray to all the rain Gods that they hold off for a while. It can pour all it wants after I am boxed in. The contractor says it should be finished by August. :) We were pickign out tubs and showers and vanities the other day. Man, that is tedious work. (Even more so with 3 kids in tow, who don't really care if the toilet is white vs bisque, if it is 14.5 inches or 16inches off the floor... egads. Who knew?? before and after pics will come along for that too... :) What fun!

And finally I will share with you why the significance in the turn of events here. last year, I applied for a teaching job (Which I didn't get) dad got sick and our loan got turned down. Well right now, the loan is closed, dad is responding to treatment and well, I still need a job, but I feel like this will be my year! Crossing my fingers! My turn is coming, right?

you know how one thing

one everyday thing that we take for granted can change our lives, or at the very least, reduce us to tears?

Tuesday, running around in a midst of cheer practice, scouts, and getting dinner, someone left a message on my answering machine. Because I am just so anal retentive that I cannot possibly walk out of the house and leave that damn little red light blinking at me I hit the button before running some more with the kids. (who, by the way, were waiting patiently for me int he truck).

I hear my dad's voice on the other end, and my feet hit the floor. Several things race through my mind. 1. dad NEVER calls me. Ever. Period. 2. Damn, I think , what has happened to mom? (Again one of the only reasons dad would call.) Crap, crap, crap! OK, so now I seriously cannot let the message of "Steph-ne it's dad. Call as soon as you get this" go. No one says call as soon as you get this, unless it's bad news, right? I pick up the phone and dial my folks' number. Dad answers the phone, his voice strong and sounding great. hey Pops, I say, what's up? His response to me:

"you know that cancer deal I got going on?" (It's always been a "deal" with him, when ever he was ill or sick) Sure pop, I say, what's wrong. "Wrong?" he says, Nothings wrong! My numbers went down! They are at 425." He called ME. He wanted to tell me HIS news. He didn't wait for mom to relay the message as he has been doing this whole time. HE called. That means more to me than if the Pope himself showed up on my front door to offer me his blessing.

I take a moment to try and wrap my head around what he has just said to me. Desperate to hear more, but knowing I have to get going I begrudgingly tell dad I have to go and I will call as soon as I am home again.

I go out to the truck where the kids are wondering what took me so long and Alex says "mom, what's wrong?" (I am sitting in the front seat, gripping the steering wheel, staring out the window) and I say "nothing, Buddy, Pops is getting better" All three of my kids start to yell "YAY!!!" in the back seat. Tears just slide down my cheeks because I am happy to hear this news and yet so scared to be hopeful. I am proud to know he is fighting. Somewhere in there he found his resolve. he is fighting back and this time winning. I hope and pray that his numbers continue to go down and his good numbers go up. (Kidney function, which is a constant worry)

Mom, this is the best news I have been given in quite some time. It rivals your news when they told us you had put your own cancer in remission. I will remain ever vigilant that he may follow in your stead. Perhaps this is what he needed to hear to have some idea that he can fight and it ain't over till the fluffy lady sings. I love you both. More that I could ever articulate and would be lost with out you both. Losing one of you would be like cutting off my air supply... I am glad at the moment no one is going anywhere...

This week, there is a mega millions jackpot... I believe I have some numbers to play. Dad's numbers.