Dear Cancer

I hate you.

You make me sick to my stomach.

I see what you do to people; to families, to friends, to women, to men, to children, to good, hardworking people, and I want to kill you.

I hate that you took my own mother.

I hate that you will forever be part of me.

I want to be more than that. I want to be better than you, but somehow you bring me down to your level.

If you could just move on and leave me alone, I would be okay with that. But I would know that you still exist, and I would still hate you.

I hate that even though my own mother lost the fight, I know how hard it is to overcome your ruthless invasion.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

Love,

All of us.

Big Day

Today is "The" day. The day one year ago that this indescribable grief was born. The day I have thought about and replayed in my mind at least once every day since. The day that changed our family dynamics forever. Really, the day that changed everything about us. The truth is it's been a hard year. The hardest of our lives. Every holiday, every birthday, every big family event, everyday. There is just someone missing. But there. If that makes sense? Hard for reasons I don't even know. Bad days that just sneak up on us fast, but take weeks to get through. Feelings that we are forgetting who she was and what she sounded like and felt like. But, memories we could never forget. A summer that was her gift to us. The most wonderful gift she could have given us. It's the one thing we long for and wish we could have back.

But, we made it. One long year? Or, one quick year? I guess it depends on how you look at it. Things have changed, we will deal and move on. We will always try to make the best of whatever comes. That's what she taught us to do. The blessings keep coming, and for that I am the most thankful! Most of those blessings come from all of you. The friends, family and loved ones that were there for everything. I'm grateful for the advice. The phone calls. The notes in the mail. The comments on blogs. Cancer still sucks. I don't think I knew how much more it would suck a year later. It still sucks.

Firsts

We are almost done with the firsts. In a couple weeks it will have been a year since Paula passed away. There have been a lot of trials and blessings along the way. We have been dreading all of the firsts. The first Mothers Day and Christmas and birthdays. The firsts are hard and we have almost made it. I know she is proud of us for doing so well. Good job everybody...we are still a close family and we have grown a lot. There is one thing that remains the same..."CANCER STILL SUCKS!"

Remember

I've been thinking a lot lately. Scary as it is, I've come to realize something. I no longer think back about Mom and instantly remember those last few breaths, or those last few days. I've started thinking back and remembering funny things that will always remind me of her. I think it's important to keep track of these things so I never forget.

If you'd like, please post a comment, anonymously if you choose, and leave us with something that will always remind you of mom.

I'll start.

Christmas
Baby Boom
Blue Knee Brace
Peterson's
Dress Barn
Chocolate Marshmallow Ice Cream
Diet Coke
Books
QVC
Boat Gas
Avon Lotion

I could go on and on, but I think we all could. Please feel free to leave your comments.

Thanks!

Mom

I miss you today. More than you will ever know.

I'm crying. For reals, and I'm not even trying to hide it.

I miss you today.

Happy Birthday, Mommy

Let me be the first to say, "Happy Birthday!". Time certainly has passed quickly. Not easily, but quickly. I had no idea that I could miss you so much. I miss the regular, mundane , everyday things that we used to share. Stupid work stuff, funny things that Madison, Gabe, and usually Eli did or said. I miss you keeping me straight, making sure I was getting draws in on time, I miss you telling me I needed life insurance (don't worry, I'm working on it. No, really!). I miss Thanksgiving Day on General Conference Sunday.

Everybody here is doing well. Dad's doing well. He's learning things I never thought he'd figure out; he's even paying his own bills! I wish Meg could tell you what a life- changing Birthday she had. I'm so proud of her. When she came over tonight I don't know if she's ever given me such a tight squeeze. The kids are all growing up so fast. Madison has a piano recital coming up, it's just like old times, hearing the same songs over and over. And over. But in a good way. I'm sure you know what I mean. Gabe finished up his BMX season with a second place, his highest ever. I was so proud I cried a little. At the track. How embarrassing. Eli is full of more mischief than any one kid should be allowed. And I love it. A couple of Sunday's ago he wanted some milky during Sacrament Meeting, and I told him if he wanted it he would have to walk home to get it. So he did.

I am thankful for my trials, but it doesn't mean I necessarily have to like them. But in the months since your passing, I've already seen tremendous growth. Growth in me personally, and growth in all of us as a family. I miss Jill and Keli's families like crazy. I think we are exponentially closer than a year ago. Man, I love that. I think the void left in your passing we are trying to fill with love and unity, and it's making us better people. Thanks, Mom, for that. For the record, I'd still rather have you back and forget all this spiritual growth stuff. I find myself calling the office (yes, the office where I work) just to hear your voice on the message. I miss your voice. I even try to sing the alto parts of the hymns because it reminds me of how you sing. You do still get to sing, I bet.

I'm so glad I still feel you so close. I love to feel your presence when I'm biking. I don't think it's so much that you like biking, per se, (although the thought of you on a mountain bike makes me giggle a bit), but you always knew how much I love it. I got a new bike today, and if you were still here I'm sure you'd listen intently while I told you all about it, not having a clue what I was talking about. Trust me, it's super cool (are you listening still? Thought so.).

I hope birthdays in heaven are fabulous, because you deserve the best. I miss you like crazy, we all do. The world is a little less bright without you in it. But I'm sure it makes heaven that much brighter. I'm okay with that, because I know that is how it was meant to be. I love you, mommy, I always will.

Separation Anxiety

Some of you that read this blog may remember what I'm talking about here.

When I was younger, like oh, maybe 7 or8, (Not 16 like Troy would have you believe) I had some serious anxiety issues. There were so many times that I actually made myself sick because of the worry that came along with being separated from my mom. Church, school, when they would leave for the evenings. It was bad. Waaayyy bad.

I distinctly remember one occasion when Mom and Dad left to go water skiing with another couple, who it was exactly I don't remember, but I don't think it was Fred and Stevie. I remember them pulling out of the Shop driveway, towing the boat with the yellow Blazer. I remember standing in the doorway (of the big double wooden doors!) at the front of the house and just screaming and crying. I honestly thought I would never see her again. I know I had worked myself up into a frenzy because there were dark clouds, and it was "windy", which mean breezy, but I was a freak, remember? I can feel that some one was pulling me back inside, though I don't remember who it was. I'm sure it was Troy, but for some reason I sense that Nikki was there, too. Anyway, I'm sure those around me thought I was being a big baby. And I was. But there was real fear there. I DID NOT want my mom to leave me. I wanted to go with her. Or better yet, I wanted her to stay with me.

And here it is, some 25 years later, and I still get that feeling of screaming as she leaves me. I feel the pull of people around me, keeping me grounded, and keeping me sane. I see the same dark clouds approaching, but I also see that I will be safe here in the cocoon of the Gospel and the knowledge that I absolutely will see her again. Comforting, yes. But it certainly doesn't make this whole "enduring to the end" thing any easier.

I admit, and maybe I shouldn't, that I've often thought about what it would be like to just get it all over with and see her again. Don't worry, it's just thought proccesses, nothing more than that. But honestly, I know she's happy seeing us here going about our lives, and doing our best. She taught us how to do it, after all. But still, the leaving. It's horrible. It hurts. It physically hurts, just like when I was 7. I guess I'll always have that feeling. Only this time, I don't think people will accuse me of just being a baby.