some things i have learned

"I am weak but not giving in"

I tell you all the things

I think will make you happy

I'll try and show you 

all the good that is familiar to me

and do what i can

to keep you from the path that's caused me pain

that i don't want you to see

But in the end it's all on your shoulders

it's always on your shoulders

we can only help carry the load 

when you're willing to give us something to hold onto

on the days when

we're supposed to be

holding hands and having fun

there's nothing 

to be done

but sit 

and smile 

and think of those days

when mom could wipe our tears

and soothe all our fears

even though we deserved

to be scared.

so instead of filling baskets

with colored eggs and candies

i'll sit

and call you out

on all the shit you've done

and think of how much fun

it'll be when you get out.

little sister

merry sunshine

i know you are better

the best if you wanted to be

i want you to be good

i want you to see the world

but i won't 

let you bring

our souls down

Little sister

other half

you are stronger

you are better

than i could ever dream

and we can see

she has it in her

let's help it shine

when she's ready.

"It is such a secret place, the land of tears."

I wonder if my mom knew that the last words she said to me

would be the last words she said to me.

A big part of me thinks knows that she did.

I wonder if she was frustrated or hurt or content or lonely...

I wonder just how immensely difficult-

how mind blowingly difficult that must have been.

How do you call your 13 year old daughter to you to tell her the last thing you will ever tell her?

How do you know what to say?

I wish I would have taken that moment more seriously.

My tired mom, sitting in her dark room

that's what I saw it as.

"you're beautiful just the way you are"

that's what she told me.

or the gist of what she told me.

I don't remember exactly becuase 

I felt uncomfortable that she was saying this.

I wanted to get out of that room and wait for her to be better.

"I love you too, Mom"

That's what I told her.

But it was just a regular "I love you."

It wasn't bursting with the love I felt for her. 

It didn't even begin to say how I really, deeply felt about her. 

And the few hours after that

When she fell into her coma

I hope, I pray that she heard me speaking.

It was only a few hours later but I was so different 

I had grown years in those hours.

All I wanted was for her to hold me-

Instead I held her.

All I wanted was for her to stroke my face and tell me everything was going to be okay.

That I didn't need to be afraid.

That everything would be... okay-

Instead, those were the words I whispered in her ear as I cuddled her small, frail body.

I hope she heard me say that I was sorry.

That I love her.

That she was the best mom I could have ever had.

I hope that the tear, 

that single tear I witnessed 

fall from her right eye the moment she took her last breath 

was not of pain.

I hope it was her way of telling me she did hear

and that she didn't want to leave, but she had to.

I hope she knows that that tear has stayed with me

Meant more to me

Spoken louder

Than anything else she had said before.

She loved me until the very end.

Some things don't need words.

Oh, the places I will go

I have a journal where I keep all my random thoughts and extensive lists.  The pages are starting to get to that point where they're so overrun with ink and the pressures of my hand when I write that they just kind of flop over when you open it up.  

Effortless.  

Loose bindings are always a good sign.

Anyway

One of those lists is of books 

Books to read and books that I have read

I love this list

And this weekend I took some time to add to it

Old titles that I've decided need to be reread now that I'm older

or just because they were so good I want to take the time to lose myself in it one more time

New titles that I haven't heard of but my friends rave for 15 minutes on how it

changed their life or how they've

read their copy so many times the binding fell apart

(loose bindings are always a good sign)

Lots and lots and lots of books.

And I am so excited!!!!!

I absolutely cannot wait to finish my last final

and get on my plane 

and travel for nine hours with my backpack so full of books I have to work at making it fit under the seat in front of me.

And when I'm finally home in my desert environment

I'm going to get totally and utterly lost in the pages of my books that I won't even notice how intense the sun was until I feel the sunburn the next day.

Summer could not get here fast enough.

Bittersweet dreams are made of these

My mom was in my dream last night.

I think we were at a summer camp and competing in some camp olympics, or maybe it was a fun day on a college campus and my competitive nature just turned it into some freaky competitive game.

My little sister Mari was there but I couldn't really have fun because she kept on wandering off and I knew I was responsible for her.  I was responsible for her because my mom had told me to be until she got better.

I'm going through the masses of people laughing and having a great time and all I am is annoyed because no one will help me find my sister. I keep getting visual flashes of her doing something fun and safe but I know she's not really safe until she's with me.  And then I get flashes of my mom.

She looked okay; not how she did when she was really sick but how she did when she was up and about; when she was Mom.  But instead of feeling happy, I feel doom.  I feel like I need to split in two: one of me to find Mari, one of me to get to my mom until it's too late.  Every muscle in my body is tense.  Every breath is quick and every movement is deliberate.  

But the competition is still going on and I don't want to lose so I join in on one of the games.  It's a slide down a mountain and you have to see how fast you can go down and climb back up.  So I'm going, I'm going, I'm halfway down when I have a vivid image of my mom laying on hospital bed that hospice brought for her, in her dark room, by herself and I can feel her loneliness.  So halfway down the mountain slide where I know I'm going to win, I flip around and scramble back up.

I don't even see the ground underneath me because there are so many images and moments of my mom that they completely take over my vision.  But that's what's pulling me up.  That and an intense sense of panic that I went down the mountain without finding Mari and that was so wrong and I need to get her.  Every ounce of strength that I have is going into getting back up that mountain and getting to my sister and my mom.

When I finally get to the top, I see my Mari.  She's laughing and looks so beautiful and so grown up.  And I'm dangling on the edge of the mountain, seeing her with one side of my brain and seeing dozens of images of my mom on the other side.  And I can't get up. 
I want to go back down the mountain because I want to win. 
I want to get to my sister but she looks so perfect without me. 
I want to get to my mom but I realize that there's nothing to get to.  That she's already gone.  That she's been gone for five years.  That even though I can see so many images of her in that very moment, they're just images.  And I sense that.  I feel that.  And it take's everything out of me.

It's the end of the dream and I'm in one of those half awake half asleep modes.  Things start skipping around.

I'm at the base of the mountain with Mari.  She's holding a trophy she won for sticking her head in a giant tub of icee mix and drinking it all without spilling it.  I laugh and I say Mom would be proud of her.  But she doesn't respond.  Instead she looks at me, looks in my eyes, and we connect.
We both see my mom; healthy, smiling, standing.
We are both torn in two.
Seeing her is a rare blessing.
Seeing her reminds us that she can never be closer than that image can bring us.
We want to hear, hold her, feel her.
Mari looks away.  She laughs and smiles with the rest of the people.

At least she has her trophy.

Dear _____,

I hope you know that I think you're going to be great.
Greater than you already are. 
Greater than you can ever dream of being. 
I hope you know that there's not a single second of my life I regret having you in it. 
That every time you succeed, I am proud beyond measure. 
That every time you fail but refuse to give in, I am proud beyond measure. 
I hope you know that if I had to give up everything if it meant you achieved your dreams, I would do so selflessly and still consider it a successful life. 
I hope you know that you have made me, shaped me, sometimes forced me into becoming a better person than I would have been otherwise. 
That you have helped me grow.

That you have set the bar high.
That no matter what I say or do, you will never see yourself the way I do. 
That no matter what you say or do, I will never turn my back on you. 
I hope I am as good to you as you are to me. 
I hope I always do right by you. 
I can't wait to see you become who you are meant to be. 
I hope you can't either.
With love,
______