It's Quiet Uptown

Things I miss

My grandma -- so much. She would have been 90 on the 15th of December. What a cool woman she was. She encouraged education and intelligence. She was and always will be the root of my love for music. Her birthday reminds me of her smile, her laugh, and her sarcasm.

https://youtu.be/OiPkhHh0ZoE
Her love for the piano was fascinating and inspiring. What a beautiful soul she was.

The house I spent my childhood in - We moved out so long ago but it doesn't seem that way. My diapers were changed in that house. I learned to play the piano in that house. I played with my first dogs and cats in that house.

My cousins and I made a clubhouse out of a chicken house in the yard.
I played on a tire swing for hours.
I laid in the hammock with my cats (sorry, cats) and looked up at the sky through the trees. I'll remember that view forever.
I threw up in my sister's room (sorry, Linds) all over the carpet.
I watched cartoons on the little green TV in the kitchen every morning.
I waited for the bus with my cousins.
I watched my grandpa in the garden.
I watched my mother plant flowers and decorate for every season.
I had numerous tea parties (with myself) on the front deck.
I learned how to ride my bike in the long, gravel driveway.
I played basketball in the barn.
I explored in the silo (probably dangerous but hey I was a farm kid).
I chose to paint my room cotton candy pink, a decision I would later regret after eating too much of it at the circus.
I took showers in the huge, dark basement when we were remodeling the bathroom upstairs. My mom made me wear water shoes (Thanks, Mom. I would have lost my feet).
When the farm flooded, I watched the basement fill with water and I watched the cat look down at his impending death (he survived. What a drama queen.)
My childhood birthdays and holidays were spent in the dining room.
My mom created the home that I loved so much in that old farmhouse.
I miss that house and I look away every time I drive by - it hurts to know that it's gone.



Momma - I wish I could put into words how much I miss her. So many things remind me of her.
Today, I looked at my own hands and saw hers. I would do anything to see her hands dash across the keys of our piano. I miss the way she tapped her fingers on the counter, on the table, on the steering wheel.

I miss her voice. She called me Bubble and told me she would love me always and forever.
I miss the smell of her perfume. She always smelled like flowers and spice.
I miss Pat Metheny, her soundtrack of choice. I know so many songs by heart.
I miss the way she would get mad at me for taking selfies with my tongue out (why did I do that? Ew).
I miss her handwriting.
I miss the mornings she would drive me to school.
I miss calling her. I still have her number saved in my phone...I don't have it in me to delete it. Even if I did, I know I'll have it memorized for the rest of my life.
I miss the way she tucked me in at night.
I miss the way she would take FOREVER to do her hair in the morning.
I miss her funny faces.
I miss her laugh.
I miss her smile.
I miss her. I love her. So much of me is made up of who she was. She lives on through my voice, she lives on through my music, she lives on in my heart.

I've been emotional this holiday. This song is partly responsible, but it feels good to cry sometimes. If you're grieving, I hope this song is as therapeutic for you as it has been for me.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZCJ-9D54lOI
(A little background so it makes a little more sense...Hamilton the Musical follows the biography of Alexander Hamilton. This song takes place after the death of his son, Philip, and illustrates the grief of Alexander and his wife.)

"There are moments that the words don’t reach
There is suffering too terrible to name
You hold your child as tight as you can
And push away the unimaginable
The moments when you’re in so deep
It feels easier to just swim down"

"There are moments that the words don’t reach
There is a grace too powerful to name
We push away what we can never understand
We push away the unimaginable"

Happy birthday! You have MS.

Multiple Sclerosis and What It Means for Me

I haven't written in a really long time but I wasn't exactly sure how to share this news any other way.

I'm going to start from the beginning for those of you who haven't been informed. Back in July of 2014, I woke up and noticed my left arm felt a little funny. The best way I can describe it is half-asleep but still totally useable. I still had feeling in my arm but couldn't feel texture as well. For example, I couldn't really tell the difference between the way my hair felt and the way my clothes felt. This feeling progressed until it was basically consuming my left side from the waist up, and then regressed until it was just in the tips of my fingers. I talked to my aunt about it (Nancy, I seriously don't know what I would do without you. You are an angel.) and we decided it would be a good idea to see my doctor. She referred me to a neurologist, who then sent me to get an MRI of my brain and of my spinal cord. Once he had seen the results, he decided to send me to a Multiple Sclerosis specialist. All of this happened in a period of about a week and I really didn't understand.

Basically, the MRIs revealed that I had "scars" on both my spinal chord and my brain. This was a hard pill to swallow for my dad and I. We've both spent so much time in hospitals over the last 10 years and because of my mom, we automatically assumed the worst. She had breast cancer, but eventually it spread to her brain. She had to have the tumor removed and it was one of the scariest days of our lives. When I got the call from my neurologist, I broke down in the middle of the UNO library (thanks for letting me sob on your shoulder Lisa).

When I saw the specialist, he wasn't ready to diagnose me with MS. He could see scars that suggested MS and the "numbness" in my arm was also an indicator, but without more proof, he couldn't make a diagnosis. (p.s. the numbness in my arm had subsided by this point)

Fast forward to last Wednesday. I took a hot bath and noticed that my arm felt the same numbness that I had felt in July. Panicked.

Fast forward again to today (June 4, THE DAY BEFORE MY BIRTHDAY). Another MRI and an appointment with my specialist. The numbness in my arm has decreased and is strongest in my fingers. My specialist says heat often "wakes up" an old MS attack, which would explain the numbness I feel now. This isn't dangerous and does no damage, may just be kind of annoying. A few more scars have appeared on my brain and I have been officially diagnosed with Relapsing-Remitting Multiple Sclerosis.

1. a chronic, typically progressive disease involving damage to the sheaths of nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord, whose symptoms may include numbness, impairment of speech and of muscular coordination, blurred vision, and severe fatigue.

So what does it mean for me? Well, I'm not really sure. It's really confusing and scary for my dad and I. We are happy to have an answer but not so happy with the answer. Right now we are looking at treatment options. There is no cure for MS, but medication will slow progression, basically increasing the time between "attacks." As of right now, the disease is mild. We hope it stays that way.

I couldn't be more thankful for my incredible support system. These things can be really difficult without my momma by my side, though I know she is with me always. Also I apologize that all of my posts are so depressing. This was the best way I knew how to share. 

Garden

I always feel compelled to write when I miss my mom, so here I am.

Over the last few days, I read The Fault in Our Stars. It was okay (sorry, everyone), but I didn't love it. Regardless, I found myself thinking about cancer and the horrible things my mother and my family went through.

The second half of my freshman year was really, for the most part, pretty miserable. My mom was really sick, and school was my escape from watching her suffer. She gradually got worse and worse. She couldn't keep anything down, and she seemed to be in an eternal bad mood. I missed out on a lot of activities because I felt I needed to stay home with her. She didn't want to eat...or really do anything for that matter. There are a lot of days I wish I could forget, but one sticks out in my mind the most. It was an early summer evening, and my mom hadn't eaten all day. I knew she needed some nourishment, so I convinced her to let me make oatmeal. I made it with milk instead of water thinking she probably needed the calcium. When I presented her with the meal, she refused, claiming the milk would make her nauseous. Because of the medications she was on, she wasn't herself, and she threw a fit. In that moment, I felt as if our roles as mother and daughter had been reversed. I dropped the bowl and watched it crash to the counter. I think that's the day I realized just how sick she was. That was probably the day I realized I had already lost her. She died about two months later.

 When I remember her on her worst days, I try to think of the things I loved about my mom. When she was herself, she would read every night before bed. Most of the time, she would fall asleep with her glasses on and an open book in her hands. In the summer, she religiously watered all of the flowers that surrounded our home. To say she had a green thumb would be an understatement. Each evening, she would sit outside and listen to the birds, the wind, the animals...she loved our house, but she loved our backyard even more. She loved Marlo (my dog...or best friend, whichever you prefer) and let him sleep on her bed even though my dad hated it. My momma always smelled good. I don't know what perfume she used, but she just smelled like Mom. I loved to watch her fingers on the piano, and I still love to watch people play the piano. It reminds me of her. Even though I couldn't stand Pat Metheny music when she was alive, I smile when I hear it now. I still have every song memorized. I always will.

The happy memories of my mom somehow outweigh the sad, cancer-filled ones. I can't wait to see her beautiful garden in Heaven.

This is what she wanted to be played at her funeral, and it certainly was a celebration of a beautiful life:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4lnEOa3PmQ&feature=youtu.be

Bad Days

Inevitably, there are bad days.

I am officially no longer a high school student. I turn 18 in about a week. Today, I feel completely overwhelmed and really, really sad.

Summer means sun and warmth and longer days, but it also means I have a lot more time to think. There are so many things I wish I could talk to my mom about. I spent a lot of today thinking about what I would tell her. Today was one of the bad days. First of all, I'm terrified to go to college. I don't want to leave my home that is filled with so many happy memories of my momma. I'll miss my dog so much that I've honestly considered smuggling him into my dorm. I would tell her about the friends I've made this year, a few in particular that have made a major impact on my life. They mean more to me than they know. I would tell her how much I wish she could have gotten to know them because she would love them just as much as I do. Monday was Memorial Day, a holiday that always reminds me of my grandma and my mom. I would talk to both of them about boys and how confusing and irritating they can be. Girls are complicated...right. My mom always knew what to say and always pointed me in the right direction. My grandma would tell me to pretend boys don't exist and to focus on my schoolwork. (: I would tell my momma about my fears for the future. There are many things I'm unsure about, though I must remember God knows the plan. While my faith keeps me strong, there is nothing more comforting than a mother's hug...something I miss very much. I would talk to her about the things that I don't understand. Why does cancer have to take so many lives? Why couldn't we have had more time? Why is it that on certain days, you seem so far away?

Today, I feel broken in grief but I find comfort...
"God heals the heartbroken and bandages their wounds." Psalm 147:3.
"Our Lord is great, with limitless strength; we'll never comprehend what he knows and does. God puts the fallen on their feet again." Psalm 147:5-6.
"Wait for God. Wait with hope. Hope now; hope always!" Psalm 131:3.

Sometimes, when I really need her, I think maybe I hear her voice as the wind whirls through her favorite wind chimes. My wounds are still healing.

Mother's Day

Today, I wished my mom a happy Mother's Day at the cemetery.

And I cried. Usually, the big days don't get to me. Her birthday, Mother's Day, the day she died...most of the time, I make it through these days without struggling. Today was different.

I went to one of my best friend's graduation party, and on my way home I realized what day it was. I decided to go to the cemetery because it had been awhile, and I was in a good mood. I thought I would talk to her for a little while, and then come home to study. When I walked up to her stone, I was suddenly overwhelmed by the week ahead of me. I have two days left of high school, and I graduate on Sunday...without my mother. My graduation party is on Saturday, and she won't be there to celebrate with me. When I walk across the stage to get my diploma, I won't see her in the audience. She won't be a phone call away as I push through my first year of college. I stood in the middle of the cemetery and cried.

I have a feeling this week will be rough for a lot of reasons, but I have some of the best friends on the planet to help me get through it.

On Mother's Day, children are supposed to honor their mothers. Even though mine isn't here anymore and I need her more than ever, I still celebrate the bright, beautiful woman she was:

Dear Momma,

Happy Mother's Day! This is the third year you've been absent. I miss you very much, but I see you almost every day. It's been raining often, so everything is green and blooming. I see you in the flowers, and I see you in the trees. I see you in the stars at night, and I hear you in everything musical. When an oriole lands on the bird feeder, I hope it's you. I see and hear you in all of the beautiful things in my life. I love you more than I could ever put into words...always and forever.

Expression

I'm a strong believer in expression. Are you sad? Tell someone. You like her? Tell her. You're upset with him? Don't hold back. The longer you wait, the less time you have. You never know what could happen tomorrow. You might not have the chance anymore.

One minute, my mom was at the hospital for a regular appointment. An appointment just like all the rest. She had one once or twice a week. I wasn't really sure what the appointments were for, and I'm still not really sure. All I knew was that they were simple, and she always came home afterwards. One day, she didn't. My sister and I went to Omaha to school shop because my sophomore year was about to begin. Lindsay moved to Omaha to be closer to my mom. We knew that she was staying at the hospital that night. After Lindsay had gone to bed, I got on the computer and talked to a classmate that had lost her father. I told her that I was scared. I knew my mom didn't have much time left. She told me something that I've held with me since then: Tell her you love her and spend as much time with her as you can. Little did I know, she barely had a day left.

When we returned to Atlantic, my mother had gotten worse. She looked very ill; sicker than she'd ever looked. She was miserable and all she could feel was her pain. She was very medicated and she couldn't make out a lot of words, but I could tell she wanted to talk to me. This was the last conversation I knew she could hear. She told me to promise her I would never lose my faith. I promised. There were so many things I wanted to tell her, but all I could say was that I loved her very much. She told me not to be afraid. The next day, she couldn't respond anymore. I could still talk to her, but I still don't know if she heard me.

Every day I wish I had more time. Every day I wish I could have written down everything I felt and given it to her. I am who I am because she raised me to be a strong, independent, happy, faith-filled girl and I never got the chance to tell her how thankful I was to have a mother like her. I never got the chance to explain how much I loved her.

This is why I don't hold back. I've learned that it's better to tell a person how you feel than to live each day wondering what would have happened if you had. So tell her. Tell him. Tell your mom. Tell your dad. Tell your teacher. Tell your friends. Maybe you'll be embarrassed or you'll wish for a second that you hadn't said anything, but I promise you it's better than holding it in.       Express...while you still have the chance.

Who I Am

Senior year, senior year, senior year.

I can't believe high school is almost over. I can't believe that once May passes, I probably won't see 85% of my class again. I can't believe that in August, I'll be moving out of the house that my mom fixed up exactly the way she wanted it. I can't believe I won't see my puppy every day.

This year has been rough because I've had to realize a lot of things that I didn't think I was ready to realize. This year has been amazing because I've gained some awesome friends. Most of all, though, I learned something important this year. I'm really, really great.

I have freckles.

I grew up hating my freckles. No matter how many times my parents tried to convince me they were "angel kisses," I couldn't force myself to like them. I realize now that I'm probably the only person in the world that felt that way. God kissed my face with freckles because he wanted me to be a little more unique. (:

I'm horrible at math.

No, I can't solve an equation to save my life (you can ask Ms. Hayden or Mrs. Jenkins). I pushed my way through algebra 2, and somehow I passed chemistry. Some days, I still question how I survived both of those classes. But you know what? I'm a fantastic writer, and I can proofread like nobody else can. So take that, algebra 2.

My real smile.

As a teenage girl, I've perfected the "selfie smile." I realize now that my real smile is more beautiful. Why? Because it's a lot like my momma's.

I like different music.

Forgive me, but I can't stand country music. For the longest time, I felt like an outcast for that. Now, though, I couldn't care less. I'm proud to blast my musical soundtracks and All-State CDs.

These are just a few of the things that I've learned to love about myself this year. It's a lot easier to be happy when I appreciate the things that make me different. (: