A Reason to Celebrate

I have this friend who was also my Mom's friend. She's so much more than that though. I guess when we first met we were 'neighbours', and given the fact that we both lived in a town of about 500 people and were only a couple of years apart, friendship became the logical next step. Over the years our relationship has evolved in many ways. There have even been short periods of time that - given our differences - we barely talked. But, mostly I've considered her a best friend, a kindred spirit, and a soul sister. As an only child, I tend to seek out "sister figures" in order to feel less alone. Due to proximity and convenience, that initial connection came easy. But, as time has gone on, our closeness and our bond has only gotten stronger, and that has happened by choice.

Family connections and relations are rarely as easy and beautiful as we let on. The thing about our family is? We don't chose it. Our family happens to us whether we like it or not, whereas our friendships (especially as adults) are the safe places and connections we choose to enrich our lives. I chose this friend and my Mom chose to share her, and she in turn respected and adored my Mom back (the way only a daughter could). Sometimes my Mom made choices that made her difficult to love. But, I always loved her anyway, and so did this friend. And for that (forgiveness, understanding, respect, love) I will forever be grateful. Some people didn't 'get' my allegiance to my Mom. This friend did. There's something about feeling validated about your choices, especially when you're not even fully aware of why you make them, that is more comforting than words can explain.

This particular friend was the only "friend" invited to our initial wedding ceremony at the hospital. She was also one of the only friends invited to the last birthday my Mom ever celebrated. This friend was even brave enough to videotape herself playing the guitar and singing a song for my Mom and I while my Mom was in hospital at the end. She even called the hospital our "Southlake Vacation Home" (creative use of the hospital name) knowing that this humour would tickle my Mom's funny bone.

She's kind of hard to beat.

This week that friend turned 30. Like a fine wine, she is only getting better with time, but I couldn't help but think I should do something special for her. So - I took some time to make a list of 30 reasons why I love and appreciate her. They came to me at random, so the order they appear in doesn't carry any weight. And, I could have gone on and on forever, but these are the biggies (and they'll help you to see why I - and my Mom - love her so much).

1. I am always my most authentic, relaxed and confident self when I am with her.

2. Her resilience is inspiring and picks me up and dusts me off regularly, just by leading by example.

3. She recognized and appreciated my Mom's many talents and gifts, and could see them through the fog on the darker days.

4. She loves and values my husband for who he is, and what he means to me (having your best friends love your husband is probably the #1 key factor leading to relationship success).

5. When times were tough at home (in my very impressionable years) she lived across the street from me. At night, when I felt most alone, I'd look across the road to her bedroom window and see a candle flickering there. Suddenly I didn't feel so lonely.

6. I don't need a censor button with her. I say it like it is, and she is often on the exact same page as me.

7. I can trust her because of her loyalty, no matter how heavy or trivial the gossip may be.

8. She's a dream chaser, which inspires me and brings me hope about what my future brings.

9. She fully, truly and openly appreciates me - gifts and flaws alike.

10. We are both foodies and share the same appetite for trying new things, cooking and experimenting with food.

11. She has an incredible knowledge of and passion for wine.

12. She wrote me recently to give me her Mom's phone number. She suggested I start a little black book of Mom's I can call. I cry now as I type about it, because it may just be the sweetest and most thoughtful gesture EVER.

13. She is a person I message or call whenever I need her; whether that is a late night drunken text message, or the desperate and emotional call when my Mom was taken from one hospital to another for 'testing', but then they decided to keep her there. I was stranded without a car, and no ride back to her 'decorated like home' first hospital room. The first person who popped into my head to call was this friend. She got there in what seemed like seconds flat (she also made it seem like an honour and privilege that she could help).

14. She's hugely generous (thoughtful gifts, treating to dinners out, compliments, etc.)

15. She's a true beauty (the kind that is like a magnet, without even having to try)

16. She says it how you need to hear it (even if it may not be easy to hear).

17. Just knowing she's in my life is a 'Safe Haven' when everything feels scary and difficult.

18. We share a similar love of music, live concerts, and could dance barefoot face toward the sun for hours on end without even having to speak.

19. Her singing voice makes me tingle just thinking about it (and, even though it couldn't have been easy, she sang 2 songs at my Mom's Celebration of Life. Partly because my Mom had asked me to ask her, and they had been 2 of her favourites that she hoped would be performed).

20. She understands and even shares my fears and apprehensions about motherhood.

21. She's going to make an outstanding and incredible "Aunt" when I overcome those fears.

22. She always laughs at my jokes as if I'm actually funny (please remember the authentic self and lack of censor button comments previously shared).

23. She isn't critical and never puts me down or makes me feel inferior.

24. In our friendship there is no jealousy or head games.

25. She seems to be able to read my mind, or thinks the same thing at the same time as me.

26. Our views of religion ('nough said).

27. She's incredibly courageous (career, travelling alone, impromptu singing opportunities, etc.)

28. Any "issues" or differences that we have faced throughout the years iron themselves out naturally because there are never hard feelings or bad intentions involved.

29. We both love cats, without shame.

30. She makes me proud of and confident about my writing skills.

In short - we've been friends for a good 17 years now. I know that's a short time compared to what the years will bring, and what we've experienced thus far will be dwarfed throughout the years by many more milestones we will share, celebrate, and even endure.

I am so truly grateful to have this friend in my life, as I know my Mom was, and having a friendship like ours is worth celebrating... kind of like a 30th birthday!

Great Black Crow

Some crow idioms (thank you dictionary.com):

1. As the crow flies (in a straight line; by the most direct route)

2. To eat crow (to be forced to admit to having made a mistake, as by retracting an emphatic statement; suffer humiliation or regret)

3. To have a crow to pick (to have a reason to disagree or argue with someone)

I would say my Mom used these idioms (or was the subject being referenced when they were used) at least once in her life. She was direct all right (in more ways than one), she sometimes had to retract emphatic statements (or at times maybe should have), and I'd say once or twice she argued or disagreed with someone along the way (If you know her, you might even be grinning right now. I know I am, and with a whole lotta love in my heart).

Crows and ravens have been caught in a dichotomy since what seems like the beginning of time. They have been seen as a nuisance in nature when compared to their "prettier" song bird peers, as they have a history of pestering their counterparts and use their power and strength to their advantage sometimes. But, ask anyone who respects First Nation Folklore or Mythology, and you'll hear a whole other complicated story. Yes, there is still mention of "greed and trickery", but there is also a tug of war between "awe and terror". There is admiration, and respect, and representations of crows fighting for justice and what is "right". The crow or raven is said to have a "twinkle in the eye", and an incredible sense of humour. In my research and reading on the topic I found a piece of writing that summed up my presumptions and these ideas very well. Especially when Samantha Fleming states that the crow "...hits the nail of truth well and truly, and sometimes uncomfortably, on the head" (http://ravenfamily.org/nascakiyetl/obs/rav1.html).

Have I mentioned my mom had a deep love and respect for birds? And, to top that off, specifically she had a penchant  for crows? And, because of that, I guess I do too.

If you've ever experienced grief due to the passing of someone you love, you likely have something that reminds you of that person. Typically these 'things' are living things found in nature, or natural occurrences. Maybe it's a butterfly, firefly or dragonfly (these take my breath away in the right moments, too). Maybe it's a rainbow, or a cool breeze that leaves goosebumps tap dancing on your spine. No matter what, those moments bring such a wave of comfort. Seeing or witnessing these things can be like a hug you didn't even realize you needed. They can sweep you up into a moment of pure and simple (but monumental) joy, and then in the next fell swoop break your heart because of the reminder of the void in your life - right in the same breath.

For me, the above mentioned are very symbolic, but the biggy? Crows; Ravens; Blackbirds - you name it. They all 'get me', and I'm more than happy to tell you why.

Mid-treatment (when my Mom knew she was terminal, but was trying to prolong her life) I came home to her sitting in her big comfy chair beside our bay window. It was a favourite spot for her, as she could not only see the river, but also the wildlife running amok outside. On this particular day she was crying. Scratch that - sobbing. I assumed it had to do with her health limitations, her chances of survival, and being - for lack of better words - pissed off because her life was going to come to an end, long before she could experience and accomplish all she had dreamt of following her recent retirement. I had these sobbing jags (still do) often too, so that's what I figured was happening. Still, I asked her what was wrong.

Her response was that there was a crow in our big back tree. It was sitting, minding it's own business, and small birds were dive bombing it, not leaving it alone. Chances are, that big ol' crow did something to deserve the attacks, but my Mom just wanted the little brats to leave the poor thing alone. She felt it was being bullied unnecessarily. The only thing that calmed her was when I gently and carefully mentioned, "if the bird really wanted, Mom, it could fly away". It was technically true, and it worked to calm her. But, I now question the reality of that statement that was the bandage at the time. My Mom's wings had been clipped. Who's to say the crow in question had the energy, ability, or stamina to go on? You never know.

We often had 4 or 5 crows that would hang out in our huge tree in our front yard. My Mom would throw out stale cereal and crackers, or leftover french fries, knowing that they would clean up shop on our front lawn. They would caw from the rooftops, sometimes so loudly and consistently that it would get annoying. But, instead of complaining or shooing them away, my Mom named them. Yep! There was the Colonel, General Herkimer, and The Henchmen. She also had names for the woodpeckers and cardinals, as well. No detail left dull or drab!

My Mom has 2 brothers. They are both still living. One is older, and she always looked up to him. The younger one came much later. He was cute, but according to her, a total pain in the arse sometimes. Isn't that the sole purpose of a baby brother? And the 'good stuff' is the periodic icing on the annoying cake? She loved them equally, for different reasons, and the latter has proven over the years to be a great source of laughter, a wonderful son, and a man who can face difficulty and adversity with strength and perseverance that is inspiring.

I guess (I've never seen it) he can do a really amazing crow impersonation. Not surprising, as he's an entertainer in many ways. She told me on so many occasions about my Uncle's ability to re-enact a crow hopping tentatively around on the side of the road. I can picture it, as I've seen it many times (she of course graciously left out the fact that there is usually road kill a crow is side stepping around - and - it's just trying to assess the likelihood of joining it's meal in a tragic demise due to the bumper of oncoming traffic). You'd have to really love crows to appreciate this kind of imitation. But then - of course - she did.

On Decemeber 25th, 2003, the movie Cold Mountain opened. I've likely mentioned it before, but my Mom and I had a tradition of going to see a movie on Christmas day. Maybe you know this already, but typically there is at least one really big blockbuster that opens on this day. The theatre isn't bustling by any means, but it was something special that she and I shared and looked forward to. As a whopping family of 2, we didn't have to follow 'traditional' traditions. We didn't have anyone to explain ourselves too. And, my Mom wasn't much of a traditionalist anyhow.

There are crows at important moments in the movie. They are mostly seen as a bad omen, foreshadowing tragedy. When Ada (Nicole Kidman) sees a flotilla of crows flying out of the forest towards her, after hearing a gunshot (if my memory serves me well) she knows that something bad has happened to her love Inman (Jude Law). She was right. From that point on, if my Mom saw a flock of crows flying towards her/us, her superstitions would grab hold of her and she would cross her fingers and hope outloud that her loved ones were well, and hope for her own well-being and safety. It was a poignant moment in the film that resonated with both of us.

On the plus side, crows have a funny way of showing up in moments where I feel I need my Mom, I'm particularly missing her in that moment, or I'm going through something difficult and I don't want to be alone. And by 'crows', I actually mean single crows. A crow sitting on a tree branch silently, fearlessly, as I walk by. A crow flying above my car in bad weather, just above and ahead enough for me to see. Today for instance, while driving on awfully slippery roads, a crow swooped down and landed on the road right in my lane. Luckily I wasn't going fast!  As I coasted towards it, it hunkered down and then took off again - towards home. I had just received the news that I wasn't needed at work after all, and could coincidently head home. Fitting.

Or, when my husband and I were in Ireland (before we were even engaged) we knew my Mom was becoming progressively unwell in the short time we had been gone. I received an email from her on our first day away, saying she wasn't feeling the best. I had called to check in a day or so later, and she had cancelled a lunch date with her older brother because she still hadn't been feeling well. She had driven herself to the hospital that day, and the doctor had sent her home with "anti-nausea" meds. Way to go, bud! A terminal lung cancer patient who has just finished an aggressive round of chemo treatments? No further inquiries, or concerns? Talk about me feeling helpless in my role. But, she assured me she would call a friend or family member should she feel she needed help. There wasn't much I could do from where I was but believe her, and I did.

We didn't know it then, but her cancer had spread belligerently to her brain, and her nausea was because her brain was swelling in the confines of her skull. This was the cancer that got the best of her in the end. She had joked with me in the days before I left for Ireland, stating with a laugh that it felt like the earth was moving underneath her feet. Isn't that a metaphor! My world was about to fall out from underneath mine. Of course if I had known the full weight of the reality, I would have swam home. But, until you're in a similar situation, with all of the 'never cry wolf' moments I had shared with my Mom over time, you won't understand (but, I'd love you to try - and not judge me for my negligence in the process).

Even though I had a deep and optimistic hope that my Mom was doing ok, there was a cloud that hung over me throughout the trip. It was strange how crows seemed to appear to my husband and I as we travelled through Cork and the Ring of Kerry. They always had a peaceful stance; one that was unwavering and calm. Usually crows are skittish but sheepish. They normally scatter and spook easily, yet these were majestic in nature. They were an omen alright, but not necessarily a 'bad one'. It was as if my Mom was with us, because she couldn't be. I even snapped a picture of Aidan on top of Blarney Castle at one point, with a pal perched strangely close. It completes the shot, and still makes me smile.

Even further, I find large black feathers in significant and sentimental moments. They suddenly appear at my feet, and its as if my breath has flown away with the bird that left it in its wake. Once, while dancing barefoot on the driveway of an old friend (who my Mom always got along well with) I realized I was sashaying myself around a single feather I hadn't noticed initially (even when the light of day still shone).  The day I went to have my wedding dress fitted (an emotionally exciting day I would have loved to have shared with my Mom) I parked, and as I stepped out of my car there was a black feather at my feet beside my car. Ha! Then, this spring our wedding venue had an open house that we went to. I was feeling especially emotional for a number of reasons. I was grateful that my mother in law came with excitement and as a supporter, but also wished my Mom could be there. To top it off, I was feeling fragile for other reasons, and had hoped my Dad would come (especially since my Mom couldn't), but it turns out it's not a 'guy thing'. But, as we walked the grounds of the venue, I walked right up to a single feather on the interlock. Coincidence? Likely. Comforting? Totally. Nay sayers, your opinions are not welcome. If it makes my heart happy, that's all that matters!

I have since found black feathers stuck in old vases or flower pots around the house (that was my Mom's before her passing). It seems she had a fondness for them as well.

Songs that mention or are about blackbirds have also stood out. My Mom was a humongous fan of The Beatles all through her life. As an adolescent, she even started her own fan club. Somewhere I still have her homemade badges and pins. We always loved "Blackbird", and especially while she was in the hospital in her last days. I'd start to sing it, and she would sing along. I thought I might muster the courage to sing it at her Celebration of Life, but in the rush of planning and organizing it all, I succumbed to my insecurities. I'll never live that down!

Funny though - the day after she died I was running some much needed errands. We were out of a lot of important 'things', as we had been preoccupied for quite some time. Plus, I had to stay busy as my "at the hospital all day with Mom" routine had come to an end. I remember the nurses saying regularly that I seemed so strong, and how nice it was to have such a positive person around in the palliative care ward. I told them it was because I was still able to spend quality time with my Mom. I was ok in the 5 weeks I came and went daily, but told them quite honestly that it was the "after" I wasn't so sure about. Well - as I walked in to the local Wally-mart (there's a Mom-ism), I was amazed to hear Blackbird by The Beatles blaring. I don't think I'd ever paid any attention to the music playing at Walmart. Normally I go in and out with a vengeance. I called or messaged my husband to share the neat news. His response? "Are you crying right now? Because I have tears in my eyes". My retort? "Not at all! I have a huge smile on my face", and then I sang along.

If you don't know the song, or would like a refresher for the lyrics, it goes a little like this:

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Black bird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
all your life
you were only waiting for this moment to be free"

My Mom's eyes are no longer sunken, and her wings are no longer broken. Instead she is everywhere, in everything, and I've never felt so lonely and completely surrounded by love and support at the same time.

My Mom always loved singing, and attending concerts. Another tradition we shared over the years was going to the Mariposa Folk Festival, which is an outdoor summer festival. This year while we were there (the tradition continues) there was a tremendously talented (and eccentric) performer by the name of Marie-Lynn Hammond. She was participating in a workshop where 3 ladies (about my Mom's age) took turns performing.

I don't remember if it was Marie-Lynn's last song or not, but she sang a song about when her Mom died. She mentioned that it has been 10 (or maybe even 15 years) since she's been gone, but that she still struggles with the loss. The song was called "Great Black Crow", and I couldn't sympathize or connect with the song more. From the white birch trees, to the fact that my Mom didn't enjoy the spring of 2010 because of how quickly her health diminished. From the fact that my Mom didn't want to trouble anyone at the end, and the fact that my "Momma should have lived in the south of France, and spent her time writing poems and plays. She deserved a long romance, and the peaceful passing in her final days". Amen. My Mom was also a "shining girl", who had a spark and a bounce in her step as a child and adolescent that people admired (and even sometimes feared, I'm sure). I am also now a motherless child, but I'm not - luckily - a long way from home.

http://marielynnhammond.com/pages/lyrics/pegasus-lyrics/great-black-crow/

The lyrics were so true to my Mom's personality, and the process of her passing, that I was brought to tears. Full on 'soak my face and the front of my sundress' tears. There was some shoulders shuddering, gasping-breath crying. This was a lady who got it, and understood. How lovely it is to feel you aren't alone!

And that brings me to my point; at some point, we are all going to be hurt or feel broken when someone we love and admire passes away. It ain't easy. But, there are some very simple things that sand off the rough and sharp edges of the hurt. Pictures help. Happy ones of the person you loved from their glowing moments. Put them around your house, or in a place you can return to often. This can remind you of the wonderful times they enjoyed, even if their life wasn't long enough. Music can be so healing, too. I've always been one to connect with the lyrics of songs. They so often express messages I am feeling, or need to hear myself, but someone else has just done a much better job of saying it. Talking (or writing) about the person can help too. You'd be surprised if you found out how many people who also loved that person want to talk as well. Not even necessarily about the hole in your lives since their passing, but of the happy times and memories shared. Heck, you'll be pleasantly surprised even more by the people who never even knew the person you admired and grieve for, but because of the weight of your love and admiration, they want to learn about them after the fact. Finally, finding something (anything) that reminds you of the person who died (that you see often, but not necessarily regularly or predictably) helps. Let it be a type of flower, a smell, a type of food, a pattern (plaid? argyle?) that this person loved. Maybe it's a musical artist they admired and followed, or a wine they drank. Maybe it's something more traditional (and equally as important and special) like butterflies or rainbow, or something not so much - like a crow. Let there be something that is like a hug when you see it (even if it is by coincidence) because as a firm believer in the spirits of our loved ones having an influence in our lives after they're gone, I'd say it's more than that.

Grieving isn't about attempting to forget someone in a graceful way, it's about remembering them and their unique qualities, and remembering the things you shared, continually.

And if you find nay-sayers along the way, so be it. There are plenty! But don't let their disbelief falter your values. Your love didn't end because your loved one died, and they still love you back, too.

Synonymous message?

Driving to work yesterday I was flipping through the radio stations and came across Kelly Clarkson's "Stronger". I'm one to really listen to lyrics, and couldn't believe how much the words go with my last post. Thought I'd include it, because it really is a great message about not settling (for anything less than butterflies) :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xn676-fLq7I

There are worse things than being alone.

No - you're not seeing things - you've just happened upon a new blog post -  finally! I have missed everything about writing - and I'm sorry that I'm not better at prioritizing my 'to do' list. I wouldn't say it's a 2012 resolution, but I'm going to do my very best to write at least once a month (if not more). Fingers crossed!

And, just because I haven't written doesn't mean I haven't been thinking about it. I literally think about it all of the time, and have a list of topics I will (I promise) eventually write about. Maybe my biggest problem is that I have too many ideas, paired with the fact that I tell unreasonably long and detailed stories? (As my Dad would say, "Ok - what's your point?") So, it overwhelms me to imagine where to start. So sue me! ;)

I've had the idea for this particular post for ages, though. This will either be a benefit - or a curse - with regards to the actual writing process...

The wise woman whose mantra is the title of this post was my Gramma's sister, who was consequently my Mom's aunt (and who was therefore my 'great aunt'). And she was just that - great. From what I hear now since her passing, she was one of those "love her or leave her" types. She was either a big hit with the people who she crossed paths with, or, well... she wasn't.

Aunt, Mom & Gramma @ our "Hat Party"

According to my Gramma, my Mom, and myself - she was a unanimous hit. Scratch that - she was a fabulous and phenomenal woman with a take it or leave it approach to life that worked her tail off, lived unconventionally, had an infectious smile, and was wildly independent. Her independence led her to say things that some likely found offensive. But, they were always true things that likely needed (or deserved) to be heard. She never criticized needlessly, gossiped about hurtful things, complained about her less-than ideal circumstances, or was rude for the sake of it. And, tied in with her ability to be offensive to some, she was hugely praising of others. She could very quickly put a deserving person or situation 'in it's place', and in the same breath, thank you from the bottom of her big and beautiful heart, compliment you so genuinely it would take your breath away, or share a sweet story of her past that would leave you smiling for days. When you live this way, you narrow your army of love, yes. But, the people still in it are not only incredible, they are usually in it for life.

Funny, come to think of it - you could re-read the above paragraph and substitute my Mom for most (if not all) of those character descriptions. My Mom was eerily like her aunt, without even being aware of it or seeming to try. I wish I had seen my Mom in the same positive light as I always held my Aunt while she was still living, though. But isn't that hindsight often the way?

In the whirlwind of a mother-daughter relationship, where there are fights about what you're wearing, where you're going, who you'll be with, etc., there is little room for appreciating simple opportunities, or sharing raw emotions. We strangely save our 'best selves' for the people we see the least, and take out our stresses and selfishness on the people we see most often. We have a taken for granted expectation that they will always be there and love you no matter what, even (and maybe especially) when you least deserve it. Usually, especially when it comes to mothers, this holds true. I think back to visits with my great-aunt where I consciously let superficial and egotistical inclinations go in order to be fully aware and present in the moment. I guess, looking back, that I did that because I saw her rarely enough that I wanted each visit to be special. I also knew she was aging and had health concerns that could rob her from me at any time. So, I didn't want to have any regrets in the time I had left with her.

If only someone could have shouted in my ear, "Your mother will only live to be 59! She will die when you are 26! Don't waste precious moments!" then maybe I would have approached our relationship differently. But, I would have likely scoffed at that in disbelief. My Mom? Are you kidding me? Have you met her?

I know I've mentioned before that I truly believed, even while fighting cancer, that nothing could stop her.

Don't get me wrong; I was a darn good daughter in many ways. I loved her so much it broke my heart sometimes (so you can imagine what my heart sometimes feels like now). I did my best to do well in school, be a good person, and support her when she needed it most. But, deep inside each of us is an individual whose wants and needs don't always line up with those people close to our hearts. So - sometimes we disagree. It's natural! If only realistic and rational me could convince emotional me of this truth now...

I remember in my great-aunt's last couple of years we shared a lot of tender and trouble-free moments I will cherish forever. For example, on Wednesdays I would make her breakfast for lunch (as I was working in the same town that she lived in). She loved poached eggs and toast (and so did I) so it was a treat we both looked forward to. I'd breeze through the process as if I was born doing it, like it was easy breezy and I didn't have a care in the world. Deep inside I was trembling, and all I could think was "don't let this be the day that you screw this up". It's amazing the pressure we put on themselves when it comes to avoiding disappointment in the people we look up to most! All I wanted was for her to be truly happy, and yes - to hear her compliments and expressions of gratitude that would fill up my sense of self gas tank until my next good deed in her favour.

She liked her eggs runny (but not too runny), her toast slightly browned and buttered, and as little water on her plate as possible so that her bread wouldn't get soggy. I would say that's a fair and common wish list when it comes to how people want their poached eggs served. But - the likelihood of meeting all of those eggspectations isn't always that easy. Thankfully? I got it right every time. Not because she scared me into it, but I guess because I wanted nothing but the best for her and got very, very lucky. It's truly amazing how some people can have that power and influence over you, whoever they are.

I remember one day I arrived particularly upset about how my morning had been going. I was dating a guy that rarely put me first, and had experienced a difficult start to my day at work. I wasn't going to mention it, but she knew as soon as I walked through her back door that I 'wasn't my normal sun-shiny self'. All she said was, "If you need to cry, cry. And, if you want to talk, talk. But if you just need to cry, just cry." I'm sure you can guess what I did; I cried, and cried, and cried until I felt like a new day had begun, and in no time we were laughing and talking about everything but my morning. Lunch was a success, even considering blurred vision (with a pinch of runny nose on the side). She was magically intuitive 'medicine'.

I'm quite different from how she was, but, her voice still whispers in my ear at times when I need it most. And, the mantra she proudly and adamantly shared still rings in my ears, 'there are worse things than being alone'. And, coming from her, you can believe it. "Aunt", as my Dad aptly nicknamed her, had a partner in life who liked fancy cars, nice suits and shoes, and his own hobbies. Maybe he lived carefree and selfishly because he knew he had a woman who brought home the bacon,  cooked it - and cleaned up after - too. Still - no excuses.

Me (with 2 of the strongest most wonderful women I've ever known)

I never met the man (he strangely died a year or 2 before I was born to the day). But, because of his choices my aunt suffered a lot of hardships that never would have occurred had it been up to her. Her father was an incredible carpenter who built Aunt and her husband their beautiful family home. But, because of her husband's lifestyle and choices they went bankrupt and had to give it up. Over the years she watched as the new owners showed little pride in ownership, and changed it in ways she disagreed with. Her father lived right across the road so that haunted and taunted him, too. The one they had after Aunt paid for mostly on her own, which was mostly unheard of in her day. In the meantime, her husband smoked himself to death.

After he died, when Aunt was still quite young, she never dated or re-married. Her reasoning? "There were worse things than being alone". You go girl! Similarly, my Mom's mantra (having also remained single after things didn't work out with my Dad) "He's got to be pretty special to earn a spot in my bed". Bingo. These 2 women were brilliant! They had it all figured out with parallel logic and reasoning. I unfailingly respected and appreciated my great-aunt's way of thinking, but (unfortunately) mistakenly misunderstood my Mom's approach to love and friendship while she was still living.

My Mom's ability to eliminate 'friends' from her life, and her unwillingness to look for or accept the love of another man was misinterpreted by me as being cold and standoffish; opinionated and rude; offensive and guarded. Now that she's gone I see it as careful and confident; strong and persistent; independent and guarded (guarded being the only descriptor that I maintain, but now with a positive connotation).

People typically become guarded because a person or experience has made them that way. My Mom had every right to have acquired that trait. From her experiences with her family, my Dad, some friends throughout her life, and then with me, there were many reasons for my Mom to become cautious. She was a generous giver who rarely asked for anything in return. But - one thing I know and see now is that appreciation and gratitude can go a very long way.

Throughout my life I saw my Mom get to breaking points with family and friends (and me). She would lose her cool because her hard work, thoughtfulness and generosity were being taken for granted. All she really ever wanted was a 'thank you' to recognize her selflessness, but unfortunately too many people are too busy, blind, or proud. Her disappointments would build up until the tower of disenchantment toppled, and she'd say things that she couldn't take back.

But looking back - if she'd had the chance, I'd doubt she even would have.

I'm getting to be more like this in my ripe old age of almost 28. I might not be as feisty, but I'm losing patience with people who I can't be my true self around, who put themselves first, who lie, play mind games, criticize, or compete. I don't do any of these things (on purpose anyway), so why should I struggle to be close with people like this, when I frown on and so disapprove of these qualities?

If at times you have let me down or affected my confidence negatively (on purpose), put yourself first to spite me, or did anything to make my heart sink and race at the same time - you may find you hear from and see less of me. No offence...

Listen - life is short. I wake up each day and am thankful for a new day and a new chance. I try very hard not to criticize (yes - I slip up sometimes! But, I am also very able and willing to own it and apologize if I happen to do it in a malicious way). I never lie to hurt someone or control a situation (white lies are sometimes used to keep peace and protect people - yes). I value my relationships and do my best to let the people I love know it - whenever I can - because you never know when you won't have another chance (not morbid - realistic!). I have a sappy heart that I wear on my sleeve, which sometimes means people poke at it cruelly. People who aren't like me don't always 'get me' and my sensitivities - and that used to really hurt and frustrate me.

I used to wonder; how can some people question me and my good intentions? How come some people pick on my weaknesses, just because they see them and know they can? Why are some people so fiercely aware of who they are and what they want that they'll steam roll over anyone in their way without looking back at the damage done?

I don't know.

What I do know - more now than ever - is that I have an army of love some people would pay big money for. I have people in my life that if you allowed them to be in control of the world, a lot of things would right themselves. I have people that I shake my head about, wondering if it's really me - the voice in my head I know so well - that they treasure. I am grateful every day for the thoughtful, generous, loving, and fair people I have added to my army in different stages of my life. This gratitude gives me a strength that is hard to explain, as I'm not a typically 'strong' person by nature. But, it is slowly helping me to weed out or walk past the people who have hurt me needlessly.

I'm not saying people will always like each other and get along; hell no! I've had my 'people won't always like you, C' epiphany - that was a bitter pill! But, it is possible to respect differences, take into consideration another person's feelings and personality traits before making choices that involve them, and keep your mouth shut and not say things that will hurt their heart.

Too bad some people have faulty censor buttons or tunnel vision when it comes to how they treat others.

So, at the risk of some day being 'alone', I'm not going to keep building bridges with people who continually choose to burn them. Nope! I'm going to save those materials to build new bridges to connect with new friends and loved ones that I find along my way.

Ultimately, "there are worse things than being alone", yes. Like being in the company of people that make your skin crawl with frustration, insecurity, or disbelief. That's way worse than curling up with a good book, doing some yoga, having a glass of wine, eating chocolate, going for a walk, shopping, etc., by yourself. Being by yourself doesn't mean that someone out there isn't missing you, loving you, and supporting you in that instant you're alone, just from a different place. You just can't always be together.

So, the only-child in me is proud to say I will no longer keep 'filler friends' just because of mutual friends, a long history together, or because someone else thinks I should. I've always been quite good at being independent, no matter how quiet and laid back my version of independence is - so I'll embrace it!

As I've mentioned before, regret can teach us some valuable lessons - if we let it. And, I do regret disagreeing with (without question) my Mom's approach to discarding friendships. I now see the situations she was in more clearly, as an adult experiencing similar circumstances, and I now respect her strength and ability to take the risks she did. My Mom still had plenty of wonderful, magical, lovely friends at the end of her life.

We only have so much energy in our day to day lives - why waste it in toxic and draining places when we can save it up for the people who appreciate us and deserve it most? When we give ourselves to people like that, we get back (tenfold).

Thankfully I have an incredible man who has promised to keep me - so I don't have an empty bed (for long stretches of time, anyway), and I have enough friends that are so 'good' I pinch myself sometimes. My army of love has a foundation so strong I'll never feel entirely alone. Even if I decide to shed some connections along the way because they take more than they give, I won't fret; for around the next corner of life there will be another person who will take the earth out from under me when I realize how amazing they are.

And, the more I take on and embrace my Mom's fabulous (sometimes eyebrow raising) qualities, the closer I will feel to her, and the prouder she will be.

My Gramma was always very creative. She painted, sketched, and made

"Crazy Quilts" (which she turned into pillows, curtains, or purses).

Here are a few samplings. 1 was mine, 1 was my Mom's, and 2 were Aunt's. If you look closely you'll see our names embroidered on, as well as symbols and images that my Gramma chose to represent "us".

Amen.