This summer we finally made it to Mexico to take my dad’s ashes home. Since he died in 2010 we have been trying to all get together to have a memorial and take his ashes to his final resting place. He wanted to be in Mexico, in the small town he spent his summers vacationing. Consequently, we spent our summers there too. His beloved Majalca became our beloved Majalca. We spent weeks with uncles, aunts, friends and cousins. We learned to ride motorcycles, climb rocks, eat beans, laugh together and cry together. It is a wonderful place to grow up.

So this summer was the first time we all piled into our family home in Mexico. This time my three kids were with us. We had a wonderful weekend memorial for my dad, more about that later.  What caught me off guard was that my parents weren’t there. Strange, right, because I know they have been gone since 2010. I know they are gone. I have missed them since they died. What I didn’t expect was the renewed feeling of loss in an old familiar place. We always went to Mexico together. So, of course, it makes sense that it would be strange to go there without them but on some level I expected them to be there, that I would see them.  I kept expecting to go out on the front porch and see my mom having her morning coffee or walk by my father’s room and see him laying in bed reading. Logically I know that is crazy but on some emotional level it made sense. I mourned them again and realized that when someone you love dies all the places you shared together are yours together. The memories you build are yours together. How do you go back to those places without your loved one? Some people may not go back, I understand that, but doesn’t that end up hurting you by keeping you from a place or experience you love? I think so.  Maybe you go, knowing it might be difficult but knowing it is worth it. Lucky for me I was surrounded by my crazy, wonderful extended family who also missed my parents. This helped. Hopefully you have some crazy extended family of your own.

I wasn’t the only one affected by my parent’s deaths. My brothers, our families and friends were also very involved and impacted by our parent’s illnesses. Everything I write here, obviously, is my experience and my version of how things happened and what I did in the aftermath. Others had different experiences. I know my brothers and I sometimes disagreed and fought. One of the things I am most proud of is that my brothers and I managed to weather the storm and not do any irreparable damage to our relationships. We came out on the other side of a very difficult path together.  While I am on the topic of my brothers I should say how glad I am that my parents had all of us.  (Well the two of them were discovered in a dumpster after a circus left town, but I digress, that is another story 😉 ) I cannot imagine living through what we did without them. And now although we are all spread out they are my link to our shared history and a shared history is a powerful connection.  Lots of love to my big brothers.

I was just thinking that this blog is depressing.  It is, I agree. So, I thought it was important to point out that I am not depressed. I think that’s the reason I was able to start writing.  I thought about writing for a long time but couldn’t.  I always got too sad writing about my parents.  I miss them so much.  Now I still miss them but time and hard work has gotten me to a place where I can live without them. My life without them seems normal now, it didn’t in the beginning.  So like everyone else, I have good days and bad days.

My other disclaimer is that my mom was always my editor.  She always took care of commas, spelling, sentence structure and all those important grammar issues.  So I don’t have an editor, pardon the errors and bear with me. 😉

Third disclaimer is one of the reasons I thought to put all this in a blog was for my children to one day be able to read what was going on in my life when they were little.  I found bits and pieces of my mom’s writing but nothing complete.  Now that she is gone, I wish she had written more down.  I like reading her voice, but it leads to so many questions I ever was able to ask.

I will probably come up with some more disclaimers as time goes on. 🙂

It was a strange thing but while both my parents were so sick and I was juggling three little kids at home I was aware that things could be worse. I think we were primed when my mom’s cancer came back so quickly the first time and then in her lung, then her throat, then her brain. See, it got much worse quickly.  But what I was really thinking was all the ways things could be worse if my kids were sick or I was sick and left my kids without a mom.  I know morbid.  I was also following a blog at the time of a high school friend who’s son had a rare cancer.  That was worse. Much worse.

It’s natural to lose your parents. That’s life. It’s supposed to happen. Eventually.  Not usually seven months apart after terrible illnesses but hey, why not. There are no rules, right?

One of my favorite sayings back then was, I’m eating at the cafeteria of life and all they are serving is shit sandwiches, with shit on top.

I am remembering today along with the rest of the country.  Still a bit in disbelief that something like that actually happened.  Hearing bits and pieces in the hallways at work.  Not having any idea what was actually going on.  Frantic phone calls from my husband and mom.  I wasn’t in harms way but we were all so scared.  Trying to keep my fourth grade students calm even though they had heard the cafeteria works saying wild things.  Realizing fourth graders “got” what was going on.  I remember going home and sitting in front of the TV with Craig and the rest of the country with our mouths hung open.  Not really believing what we were watching on TV.  I remember having the next two days off and going back to work and facing my students who had seen too much on TV.  Trying to explain that we were safe but how could I be sure.

I wonder how children who were not even alive on 9/11 will learn about that day? When is the right time to tell them?  Do we show them the media coverage?  I know they will see it at some point but a part of me wishes they never would.  Seeing those images changed us.  How will it change my children?

I’ve decided it is time to start writing about my life since 2010. Some of you may know the whole story, some of you may not. Eventually I will tell the whole story of my parent’s deaths. They both died in 2010. For now I will introduce this blog.

I survived. I didn’t die in 2010, although I felt like I might, I didn’t. Life moved on. I had to find a way to move on too. Moving on might be the wrong choice of words but I survived and I had to figure out a way to live.  This is what I plan to write about, living, surviving, coping, grieving, remembering, inspiring and hope. Thanks for joining me along the way.