Am I really “still me”?

Lost is a place, right?

Are you there, too?

Hi, everyone! Welcome to “Lost”! It’s the new and improved place we used to call “Here”.

We don’t call it ‘Here” anymore because we’ve moved away from “Here”. “Here” is a place from afar. A place removed from what is relevant and current.

Destination: Unknown

I’m at home in “Lost”. And that’s sad.

Sad, but true.

“Lost” is both familiar and painful.

“Lost” is not that far away from “The Past” and just around the corner from “Hindsight”. It is 20/20, no?

And “Lost” is just before you get to “Far, Far Away”.

“Lost” is both confusing and exciting at the same time.

It is unknown and to some, might seem tragic.

To me, however, it’s not tragic.

It’s home.

I’m ready.

Ready to get to know my way around “Lost”. It seems that I may be here a while and I might as well get my bearings in this place.

Most of the people that live here are pretty nice. My neighbors keep to themselves, but smile and wave, if waved to.

And I do wave.

Every damn day.

The sights in this town are pretty nice, too. Old homes with character surrounded by new growth and change.

“Lost” has pretty great schools, too. With teachers that seem to actually care. Teachers that take the time to know their students by name and learning style.

The students seem to reciprocate with a sense of simple splendor. With a joy of learning! They converse in small groups out on the patio, while teachers smile their knowing smiles.

“Lost” even has a big chain Super Store!

Hooray, for “Lost”!

One day, we’ll catch up to the big city, but as of now, we’re pretty proud of our Super Store, thank you very much.

“Lost” is an easy commute to the finest jobs around. And, as luck may have it, my job, too. I love my drive to work from”Lost”. It’s a quiet and serene time that I can hear myself think. No one needs to be tended to and everyone can hear me.

I’ve found a nice niche in my little part of “Lost”. Albeit small, it’s mine.

I will miss “The Past”, but I’m not there anymore.

Now is the time to revel in the here and now and appreciate this thing we call life.

Do you appreciate life? Or do you, like I, take just about every minute for granted?

Geez, guys!

Let’s start the new year with a pact, OK?

Let’s be happy and content.

Whether we live in “Lost”, “Far, Far Away”, “Here”, “Now” or “In the Moment”.

Let us appreciate and savor every hour we get.

Every minute.

Every hour.

Every second.

Why?

Because before long we’ll be living in “Gone, but Not Forgotten” and I for one, want to put the final move off for as long as possible.

So, I will live in “Lost”.

I will love in “Lost”.

 I will be in “Lost”.

And for once, I’ll finally just be “me”…

Everything stays the same…

Everything stays the same.

Time is passing.

Leaves are falling.

Costumed children have tricked their treat and turkeys are starting to get scared.

Yet, everything stays the same.

Chris has had two, two month check up’s since I last wrote. To be perfectly honest. I didn’t know what to say.

Everything stays the same.

His doctors are happy and we’re excited! His tumor isn’t growing.

Yes, Chuck is still hanging out in his brain. but he’s not growing.

Every single time we hear this it gets more and more hopeful.

An “all clear” at the two moth appointment means more time.

Chris, however, is struggling.

You know those steps of the grieving process? There are five and he’s knocking back and forth between steps two and four.

Anger and depression.

One day he’s happy and I see a glimpse of the man I used to know.

One day, he’s so angry that I can’t get a word in edgewise because he’s so damn mad at me he can’t see straight.

And then there are the days that hurt the most. The days that I watch that strong, amazing man crumple at the feet of cancer.

He doesn’t move.

He doesn’t talk.

He doesn’t…

I long for the “good” days.

The days that he laughs and sings in that horrible baritone that I love.

The days that the kids can joke with him and he laughs back.

But, more often than not, he has an anger or depressive day.

Now, I’m not saying he’s ALWAYS like this. I’m just saying that it’s hard to have a good day when you’re trapped in a three way cycle of happy, mad and depression.

He’s still Chris.

With his hat on, you might not know that he has brain cancer. He still looks the same. Handsome as ever!

The only things you might notice is his aphasia.

He talks with effort.

To someone who didn’t know, it’d be like talking to someone who’s distracted. Like talking to someone who isn’t really listening.

Except, it’s the exact opposite of distraction.

It’s extreme concentration.

Words are difficult and following an entire conversation takes as much concentration as he can muster.

Which is a lot!

You might not know he has cancer.

But, you do.

Other than the cycle of grief, everything is ok.

Everything stays the same.

The kids are starting back to public school and I couldn’t be happier!

Not that I didn’t enjoy homeschool, but I just couldn’t do it.

I’m good at a lot of things. Great at some. But, homeschooling wasn’t my forte and I’m ok admitting that.

So, today Doodle two started at the elementary school near our new house and Doodle one starts Monday in middle.

Ugh!

Where has the time gone?!

I’m sure they’ll love being around more kids their own age and I’ll enjoy being with Chris ALONE on my days off.

What’s that like?

I forgot.

We moved to a new town and although it’s only a county away, I’m tee totally lost!

I’ll find my way.

Right now, I know where the schools are and the gas station.

It’s weird to be in a new town.

A fresh start.

Will we meet new friends?

Will we enjoy and become comfortable here?

I hope so! I certainly do.

That’s that!

Chris’s two month appointment went so well. Although, his brain is still swollen, it has gone down exponentially in the last few months.

Although weak, he has the ability to get stronger.

His will to fight is still there.

And, although dealing with the tremendous burden of grief, he is doing well.

The kids are starting school and they are nervously excited! They don’t seem as scared as they were before and my heart is happy to finally see them enjoy education again.

We are ok. We are together and enjoying what it feels like to be a normal family. We are happy with the notion that we get more time. We are starting to remember what it felt like before cancer entered our lives.

But, it did.

Everything stays the same.

She is beautiful

032

She is the envy of many a woman.

She is, to most, perfect.

She is the responsible, put together and dependable one.

She never forgets a birthday or anniversary.

She is, by all accounts, just what every woman dreams to be.

She is beyond beautiful. Her light blueish green eyes sparkle when she laughs and her smile is infectious. Her hair shines in the sun and even in a “mom bun” looks amazing.

She remembers others children as she walks through the dollar aisle at Target and picks up the perfect item “just because”.

She buys Christmas presents in June because they will be just what someone wants and tucks them away for that special moment.

She is smart. Smart like most people want to be. That odd combination of street smarts and book smarts that makes her know how to change a tire and also know who fought in the war of 1812.

She’s comforting. An oasis in a life of chaos that can be called upon at any minute. She always knows what to say. She can make you feel like a million bucks with just a corny joke and the sound of her laughter.

She is the carpool mom that knows all of the other mom’s names and chats with them without effort.

She is the classroom volunteer mom that knows every kids name and develops a way to reach every single one in just an afternoon.

She’s the lunch duty mom that cleans up after your child without a second thought.

She’s the Cub Scout mom who checks homework so diligently during the meeting that others think she homeschools.

She’s the baseball mom that cuts up all the oranges and serves the flavored water and never forgets if that one kid has an allergy.

She’s the MOM.

She’s the mom that reads to her kids every single night. Building their love of literature and enriching their minds.

She’s the mom that plays, acts, sings, dances and generally acts like a silly woman just to see the smile on her kids faces.

She’s the mom that still checks on her kids during the night and sheds a tear just watching them slumber.

She is also the mom that thinks she doesn’t do enough.

That her best is never good enough.

That she should go harder and faster and longer.

Her self concept isn’t what we see from the outside.

She is lost in self doubt.

She is lost.

This is when we step in, Mama’s!

We all know this mom.

We all envy this mom.

We may, in fact, be this mom.

It’s not a competition.

All of our kids are perfect and we are all beautiful.

It’s time we tell each other that.

Tell another woman on the street that you like her shoes. Tell her that her dress is just gorgeous.

You know why?

Because she might have had the worst morning and one comment can make her day.

She’ll believe you, but inevitably, wouldn’t dare believe herself.

The mirror lies to us, Mama’s.

We are all of these things.

Tell another mom she’s appreciated today because, guess what?

It might be the first time she’s heard it in a while and you just might change her view of herself.

You are gorgeous.

You are special.

You are irreplaceable.

You are doing the best you can.

And, honey, that is and always will be, more than enough.