The Year Without a Mommom

"If you are not living, if you have died, 

all the leaves will fall, 

if will rain upon my soul night and day, 

the snow will burn my heart, 

I shall walk with cold and fire and death and snow, 

my feet will want to march toward where you sleep, 

but I shall go on living, 

because you wanted me to..."

- Pablo Neruda, "La Muerta"

     Perhaps you've seen the very popular Christmas show from the 70s, "The Year Without A Santa Claus." Maybe you remember that Santa Claus decides to take a vacation during Christmas because he doesn't feel that people actually believe in him anymore. Or maybe you remember the argument the Heat Miser has with the Snow Miser in their popular duet. Or maybe you remember that Mrs. Claus attempts to make things right again. Or maybe you remember Jingle and Jangle, the reindeer, Vixen and their friend Iggy who are trying to make people believe again in Southtown. But for me, what I remember the most, is all the chaos when Santa Claus takes a vacation and how nothing seems right at all when this staple character just calls it quits suddenly. 

     Today, January 10th, 2017, marks the one year anniversary of my Mommom's sudden passing. It's been "The Year Without a Mommom." It's been a year of chaos since and there's been many Heat and Snow Misers, Jingles, Jangles, Vixens, Iggys and even multiple Mrs. Clauses. Over all this past year has been filled with people trying to make it right again. But the truth is, when the main character in your life takes a vacation, no one can actually it right again except the person themselves. 

     So many people have openly said that 2016 was the worst year of their lives. As I drove to our New Year's Eve gathering, Joe said something along the lines of, "A lot of people hated this year, but I didn't think it was that bad." To which I responded, more harshly than I ever would intend, "Yeah, but can you understand that for someone like, it was the worst. Ten days into 2016, I lost my best friend." There was silence after that as he put his hand on my shoulder and let tears drip down my face as we continued the drive. 

      Sunday, at Mass, I was overcome with sadness. I couldn't sing. I couldn't speak. I couldn't even go through the motions. I just silently sat at the end of the pew letting tears flow down my face and into one of the many giant, fluffy scarves I own. I was sad and I didn't want to be there. Not because I was mad at God - no, that was never the case. But rather because, last year on a Sunday, I was sitting in Mass, just a few hours before I would get the call that my Mommom was no longer with us. I kept thinking during Mass, what would I have done differently if I had known that in a few hours my Mommom would no longer be alive? Would I still go to the gym? Would I still waste hours driving down the highway to a friend's house? No, probably not. I know where I'd be - her house, with her, holding her hand for what might be the last time. 

       People say death changes you...the experience of death, that is. I've experienced death before and for the longest time, I felt that it helped me feel more. I would say that all the death I've experienced broke my heart open more and more. But nothing broke me more than the death of my Mommom. And to be honest, it changed me in a different way.

      

      She's in everything I do. She's the echo in the halls when I'm walking around school. She's in every quiet second I have. She's in every song on the radio. She's on every road I drive, every corner I turn, every bottle of wine in the wine store. She's in every corner of every room, every line of poetry, every drop of ink I write on every piece of paper. She is in every cup of coffee, every teaspoon of sugar, every ounce of flavor. She is in every tear and every smile. She's in every picture I take, every song I belt out pathetically in the car. She's on every mountain I climb, every waterfall I dance in, every single second of every day. By which I mean, I feel the emptiness of her presence in all this. 

      I haven't spent every moment of the past year in sadness, she wouldn't want that. I just can't help but feel the lack of her presence in every thing I do. I can't help but think that I would have laughed a little more on Thanksgiving, and snuggled a little more at Christmas. I would have made more desserts and more dinners for her. I would have dyed more eggs at Easter time, I would have sang more songs at the family reunion. I would have danced a little harder at every gathering I had with my friends. But something was missing.

     Now I know that many would agree, "Mommom is always with me." But she's not in the sense that I had been so used to for 23 years. I miss her hugs. I miss her smothering me with kisses. I miss her directing the show in the kitchen on the holidays. I miss the sound of her voice. I know she's here. I know I can always talk to her. But it's just not the same. Mommom's death changed me. It made me more conscious of who I am in relation to her - in so many senses, I am my grandmother's granddaughter. It made me okay with letting myself feel whenever I need to feel - when something reminds me of her and I feel sad, I don't hold back tears. It made me tougher - I'm not sure if I like it, but it made me tougher. It made me even more of a family girl - when I hang out with people, I want to hang out with their families, and as much as my family drives me crazy, I actually like when we sit around the table and roast the nearest human being. It made me more conscious of a lot of things, more than I can even mention here. Some people say that when you lose someone close like that you stop feeling. But for me, I think I started. 

     The year without a Mommom has been anything but easy. I've had so many happy moments, joyous ones, ones filled with laughter. Yet, her void has been felt in every second, of every minute, of every day. I miss everything about her from her shaking her head at me in complete misunderstanding, to her boisterous hugs and kisses, to her random Facebook comments. Mommom had the ability to always make me feel like I was important, that I had a fan club (a fan club of one, but still). She always knew what I was up to, always asked questions about my adventures or my latest interest, and supported me in everything I did. She would have known what I did on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and every weekend. She wouldn't ask what I was doing, but rather, she would ask about how it went. She'd ask, "how was class/soup kitchen/tutoring/school/Joe's?" She just knew what I was up to and made sure I knew she cared. 

      I miss that. I miss it because without her I've felt lonely. I've felt lonelier than ever, despite being almost always surrounded by people.  The felt of being lonely in a crowded room - a daily occurrence. And yet, here I am, sitting at my desk, with the sun shining directly on me. It's almost too bright for me to see the computer screen. Her love was like that - so bright, so obnoxious, so big, and so warm. I know it's her. I know she's with me always, of this I am sure. But that doesn't mean some days are harder than others and some days I just want to cry because I miss her. She was a beautiful woman who loved so much and I hope, if there's one thing I do with my life, it's love as greatly as she did. How rare and beautiful it is, truly to exist! 

One Is The Loneliest Number

"The most terribly poverty is loneliness

and the feeling of being unloved."

- Mother Teresa

      Last night, I was blessed to a. have time in my schedule to get together for dinner with two very close friends, b. be able to afford such luxuries such as eating out and c. having two very close friends with whom I could enjoy such luxuries. Nothing is quite better than being together, laughing together, eating together and sharing stories together for over two hours with people one loves so dearly. As we were talking, my blog came into conversation. I haven't written since right before Thanksgiving. I could blame it on busy-ness, I could blame it on laziness, I could blame it on lack of motivation. I started posts but didn't finish them and eventually deleted them. I thought about what to write, but nothing ever came into fruition. But this particular blog post has been on my mind for a while, I just haven't had any words to express how I feel. However, after last night's discussion, I feel like I should pick up where I left off.
      Loneliness. No one likes to feel lonely. People like to be alone but no one likes to feel lonely. I'm one of those people. I like my "me time." I like taking time away for myself. I like being alone. Well alone with my dog. Being alone gives me time to think, to pray and to recollect myself after a big event or party (I'm an introvert in that sense). In fact some of the best moments for me are when I finally get to curl up under all my blankets and not do anything. I just can think there. Being alone is great...once in a while.
      As much as I like being alone from time to time, sometimes there is too much alone time. Those moments sneak in and suddenly, I'm left feeling so lonely. At school it's easy to fall into this feeling of loneliness. I don't share office space with anyone so unless someone comes in or I go out, I don't necessarily see people. There could easily be days when I don't see more than five people a day, especially when I have my class of two. Of course, that's not always a bad thing, especially on days I'm feeling more anxious or stressed than usual. But sometimes, that loneliness creeps in. Especially after a week of after school activities with only my students and not having time to do much else when I get home. Don't get me wrong, I love my students, but they're not my friends. I'm a teacher for over 13 hours a day sometimes, and that's exhausting.
      In the past year and a half of real world experiences, I've noticed that some friends have gone while others have stayed, and not necessarily the ones I would have expected. There are friends who I was really close with in college that I don't talk to anymore and haven't seen in months except for on social media. Then there are friends who I had a few classes with and now I see all the time. Of course, the moving away from campus plays a part; suddenly I'm not right next door or five minutes away. I guess I always thought that if we were true friends, we would travel distances for one another. And that's proven true in some cases. But I've lost a good number of friends in the past year and half due to distances.
      Another factor is the fact that friends either have full time jobs like me but our schedules are too rigorous to have energy left at the end of the night to socialize OR my friends don't have full time positions and are still trying to keep a high-key social life whereas I can barely keep my eyes awake past 8 pm on a Friday or Saturday night. I can't keep up. So I guess, if order for me to socialize with a person, he or she must be willing to either put up with me driving to their house only to literally Netflix and chill (which means nap) or drive to me and be willing to Netflix and chill. On a school night, that is. Fridays and Saturdays, I'm good up until about 8:00. Wherever I am at that moment, I will start falling asleep. I can't help it, I have a rigorous full time job that lasts longer that 9-5, M-F. I'm tired.
      Now, of course, that doesn't mean I want to change my job. Absolutely not, I love it. And given the choice between socializing and doing my job, I'd choose my job. I love my students, I love my co-workers, I love my ministry. But sometimes, just sometimes, the concept of not having a social life other than with my dog, is disheartening and lonely. It's when I'm snuggled up in my blankets at the end of a long day that I get to thinking: well, I left the house when it was dark today and I didn't get home until it was dark again. I haven't seen my family since dad is already in bed and Lizzie and Mom are busy. Gee when was the last time I talked to someone other than Joe on the phone? And even that it's usually a conversation of yawns and tired conversation that I fall asleep in the middle of. When was the last time I saw so and so? Yeah...it's then that loneliness settles.
     Studies say that winter causes more people to be depressed or feel lonely. I get that. When it's dark, we're more hesitant to go out. When it's dark, we want to go to bed and are tired. When it's dark we tend to not see people for ages. The holidays can make people feel lonely, too. Feeling lonely in a crowded room is the worst. Isn't there anyone at any family party other than my sister who understands that I hate conversing with so many people around; that it makes me anxious? I would rather find a quiet place in the house and have a quiet conversation. But at large parties, finding a quiet room is rare OR once you find that quiet room, you're basically invisible. Seems that way in my experiences anyway. Of course, this leads to insane inside jokes with my sister because we can keep ourselves occupied for hours. So, sometimes it's hard to complain.
     There are many times and places I've experienced loneliness this past month and maybe that's why it's been hard to write. Loneliness creeps in and suddenly you doubt everything - will anyone actually care what I write? Is it worth it? What should I even write? Where are my words? Why can't I use them? So at the end of this self-doubt, I snuggle up, make my puppy love me by bribing him to come upstairs with a bone and watching hours upon hours of Grey's Anatomy. Yes, everyone has had those days. December just seemed to bring a lot of them for me. I thought too much about the pain of losing friends, not dramatically but slowly and surely slipping away (that's the worst kind of losing friends...). I thought too much about how I literally never see the light of day. I thought too much about how I never see people. I thought a lot, probably too much, but that's okay.
      After last night, after spending two and half hours with two beautiful friends, I realized a few things. The friends who wouldn't drive distances for me or even make effort, maybe weren't the best friends for me. The best friends can always pick up where you left off despite long gaps in-between and also might be willing to literally watch movies in-house and order pizza. Sometimes it's okay to be alone but when loneliness starts creeping in, go find those friends. It's okay to want to snuggle in bed after a long day. It really is. And finally, get rid of the negativity that surrounds you on social media a.k.a. people with other full time jobs that somehow still manage to have an exuberant social life that you can neither afford or keep up with :)
       One is the loneliest number, but everyone feels lonely sometimes. We just have to make sure we don't let ourselves get too lonely. Yes, the seasonal changes might be helping that loneliness seem like a giant cloud overhead, but we can do things to help us out! I'm thankful for my friends who, it seems, have finally helped me get out from underneath that cloud of doom. Sometimes all it takes is a two and half hour dinner date with friends to keep you going.

 

Alive Again/Opened Eyes

"You called, you shouted, and your broke through my deafness.

You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. 

You breathed Your fragrance on me; I drew in breath.

You touched me and I burned for Your peace."
- St. Augustine

     The second "half" of Mass always seems so rushed to me. Right after the homily, I feel like it's a quick boom boom boom, Communion, done. Then I am left kneeling there thinking, wait...where did Mass just go? Okay, maybe this really isn't so, but some days, I really find myself kneeling there, after receiving Jesus, yearning for just a little more time in prayer after that holiest of holy moments. Even today, I found myself longing for the song to last a little longer, for a little bit more time to close my eyes. That's when I opened my eyes.

     I wasn't singing along with the Sisters, but rather listening to their beautiful voices. Some days, I like to listen because people are seemingly always listening to me. Today, I listened and I wondered how so many sisters could make such a great sound. Usually, on days when I simply listen, I close my eyes and smile because of the happiness that simple moment gives me. Today, I opened my eyes and allowed myself to look around at my sisters, the lovely ladies I have prayed with for the past four years. While part of me got nostalgic, the other half could not stop thanking God. It was then that I had finally seen. 

     You see, this past week has been a rough one. Let's just say, it started with a "solo" adventure. I had this need to go away from school but I didn't want to go home either. So I decided, why not drive a few hours to the beach and take pictures. I couldn't explain the need to get away and I wasn't quite sure what I was getting away from. But what I do know is that Stone Harbor is a little bit closer than Peru (the other place I tell people I'm going to when I'm "running away"). So, I picked up my sister, Mary, and headed to the beach. We didn't stay very long, only an hour, but I got some BEAUTIFUL shots of the sunset. I was happy, but I was still missing something. It was a strange feeling.

     We headed back to campus and my Sister camped out for the weekend. I worked all day Saturday at the Motherhouse and even there, I was not my normal self. I was feeling empty. I also was feeling under the weather. LONG story short, I wound up with strep throat for four days and a lovely fever for three. Yay. I was stuck in bed, not that I could really complain, because I was feeling AWFUL. But I could hear everything around me. I could hear my neighbors enjoying the snow day, I could hear the nunnies shuffling down the hall to get to Mass, I could hear my roomie coming and going throughout the day with friends. I felt even more empty; like I was missing out on something.

     As I snuggled in my bed and attempted to get better, I thought about was really bothering me. Suddenly, it seemed that everyone was settling into their futures, whether it be making plans for apartments, applying for jobs and most definitely, getting into relationships. Now, don't get me wrong, how many times have I said that seeing my friends happy makes me happy. I love watching them experience life and be happy. But often, I feel I am not really participating in their lives when they are happy. I've always been okay with that. In fact, my personality kind of enjoys it. It's the introvert in me. But for some reason this week I had just felt like I was really missing out on something, even if I was in the same room as they were. Then it hit me: my life, no matter how close we may be, will always be very different from theirs. 

      My friends will enjoy going out on first dates, double dates, wedding planning outings, dress shopping, baby shopping, baby stuff, family stuff, etc. I will enjoy living with my Sisters, making my vows, watching families grow up, teaching children, maybe living in a foreign country. You see? Very different. I know that by accepting the call from God, I have chosen to give their lives up and there is usually peace about it (because it is the right path for me). But sometimes, it gets little difficult. They can hold hands with their boyfriend/girlfriend. I, alas, cannot. And for some reason, this notion really hit the heart this week. Of course, I was dealing with strep and everyone gets the icky sicky blues when they are stuck in the infirmary of their room. 

       On Monday, the first day I had skipped morning Mass in a VERY long time, Sister George called me. She asked how I was feeling and then told me that on Channel 59, Academy Award Winning Musicals were on all day. I smiled at her outreach. She's so precious. She's coming with me when I graduate. On Monday night, my lovely neighbor sent a little message : "So strep? That's why you've been so quiet." I laughed. It hurt, but I laughed. Of course, throughout the day a few other sisters reached out just to say take care or get well. I smiled. By Tuesday night, I was feeling much better. I didn't have a fever anymore and I needed some fresh air. So, I walked outside for a treasurer's meeting with our class advisor and class president. MAN DID THAT FEEL GREAT. However, I was still feeling a bit melancholy about everything else. 

       By Wednesday, I was feeling much better. So, after noon mass (we had a snow/ice day), I decided to get a few people together and go to Camilla. What an adventure that was. Long story short, Sister Mimi, one of my Sisters from Peru, was visiting and giving a presentation. I saw so many of my dear Camilla Sisters that suddenly all the sadness and melancholy-ness (I know this is not a real word...) disappeared. I was surrounded by beautiful women of God who reminded me why I am discerning this life. As we watched the presentation from Sister Mimi, I had many of the same reactions as they did. Sighing over the cute babies. Excitement at the sight of new buildings. Claps of joy, loud whispers, etc. That's when my friend, Paxton, leaned over and said, "One day, that will be you." 

       In the middle of my sickness, I had also had the thoughts that I might not make a good sister. I fought with the devil on that one. I struggled thinking that actually, I was not worthy of that life. I could not possibly make a good sister. But then Paxton reminded me, without knowing it, that I was right. I AM NOT WORTHY...but, no one really is. She gave me a glimmer of hope, just as those dear Camilla Sisters did. I need to persevere; I need to keep going. I refuse to give up, I needed to say. 

      I left Camilla feeling renewed in my Spirit. I had seen the Mother General checking up on her Sisters at Camilla (the power had been out all morning thanks to the ice storm) and that warmed my heart. It was a reminder of why I had ever thought of this life. I needed that. I found myself at the Motherhouse that night and at peace. Then this morning, when I opened my eyes after Communion and looked around to see those beautiful women of God singing their hearts out, I felt my heart overwhelmed with peace. 

       It doesn't matter that my life will be different from my friends. It's okay to go through difficult times, too. It's okay to experience hardship and pain. A dear Sister Eileen told me once that religious life is full of struggles and challenges, but in the end, it is the most beautiful life one could experience. I don't know why I didn't remember that this week (I had just spoken with her the other day...). This morning, I couldn't agree with her more. There are times, even in my discernment, when the road gets rocky. This past week was one of the rocky times. And yet, this morning, when I watched my Sisters sing and even yesterday holding hands with Sister Cyril, I felt that I knew, once again, that this path was still right for me. I left Mass this morning with opened eyes and feeling ALIVE AGAIN!