Mama - Tomorrow I am going to pretend to be okay...

So, I told a lie today.I was asked if I was okay and I said yeah. I didn't even realize I did until he made me look at him and he said "No. You're not" and then I cried. Because I am not okay. I have been really lonesome lately for my Mama. I have been thinking so much about this woman and the day the Oncologist said she had small cell lung cancer. I remember the stricken look in her eyes, how tightly she gripped my hand, how I had tears in my eyes when I turned to her and said "Don't worry Mama. You won't ever be alone. I will be here every step of the way with you. I love you. I'm here." June the 15th 2005. Gods I miss her sooo much it hurts. I miss everything about that wonderful woman. There was always sunshine in her smile. I would give just about anything just to have her smile at me once more.

I have been crying a lot lately and no one has really noticed. Not because I am ashamed of my feelings and been hiding my tears but because it never occurred to me to cry out the way I miss her right now. Plus the tears tend to sneak up when I have a lull in my day and out of nowhere I smell lilacs and I think of her. I miss how well she knew my heart. I miss her so much that I can't breathe sometimes. I can only hope that she would be proud of me. That she would still stand by my side in every decision that I make. She knew me and loved me anyways.  There are so many things I want to share with her. So many hopes, and dreams and I miss her. I want her to share in my joys with me. I want her to share in my sorrows and make everything better by simply telling me “shaaaa Julianna...everything is going to be okay.” I never knew the power those words held until she was gone and there was no one to make things okay. I had to do it on my own.

When she left us, her family, it was like all the heart went out of us. It was like having no sunshine in your life, no bounce in your step, no direction, and no one to kick your ass back on track. Perhaps we are children because she kept us this way. It was from her that I knew what it meant to be strong...to have strength without being physically strong. To have reasons that keep you from madness and drowning in despair. She was my reed...the reed that's roots are deep in the mud, that doesn't break but bends in the unforgiving current and that is so much more or just as beautiful and magical as the trees lining the shore.

I am glad she knew me. She knew I love her like I love my own Mother. She knew she was my heart's treasure. She knew that she was home to me. She knew she was my rock. I never hid that from her. No matter how angry I got with her...she was always and will always be my first home. If I could have a moment with her I would want her smile, not her tears. I would want her glad grace and not her youth. I would want her weathered and worn hands than her young and supple ones. I would want her hair sprinkled with well earned wisdom than her dark locks of middle age. I would want her as I remember her best...smile in her eyes, the sound of her laughter, and to feel her arms around me, holding me close to her heart. Impossible dreams sometimes hurt the most.  

There is no time limit for grief. Time does not diminish the wounds quickly. Time works slowly. Slowly the pain eases...and I can live in my happy memories of her. I can mention her without crying. I can smile and laugh at the things she said or did. I can make bannock and smile softy when I hear the words she used to tell me float to my mind “not too hard and not too long or its going to be tough Julianna...”. I grieve because she was worth losing. I grieve for her yet because I lost something. Can you even lose what was just on loan to you?

I am not as angry as I once was. Nor am I as cynical either. But today...today I have tears...tears because someone reminded me of the last time I was with her, the Doctor's visit that changed all of our lives, and how I still blame myself for not being worried sooner. If only I paid attention sooner...then I wouldn't be living in a memory but being with her..She would be here yet. But we all have someone we miss terribly. I knew what I had though. I knew I had her and I hate it sometimes when I realize I use the past tense. I hate the word "was" because it means she isn't. But I still love her.

I remember so clearly how hard it was that day...how much she tried to make jokes. I will never forget the nurses telling her "what you in for little lady?" and she said "I have lung cancer" and they said "I am so sorry" and Mama said "Oh that's okay. I always wanted to make a beautiful corpse" and we all laughed. I laughed because here was this beautiful, gorgeous, warm woman, trying to hold it together by laughing. I love her even more because I have the same habit too. I laugh to make it easier to deal with the pain. With the hurt...and because life really should just be laughter and tears.

But that night, in the privacy of the hotel room, when I was alone because she wanted to talk to my Aunt Deb alone...I cried. I broke down. I pleaded and begged with gods, demons, devils and spirits to take her cancer away. I needed her. She was home. How was I supposed to know how to live without her? After I stopped crying, had a cool shower, got dressed, had a cigarette (trust me, I know!) and a drink of coffee...I made a choice. I made a choice to be strong for the woman who was always strong for me. For the woman who comforted me when I was far away from home and dealing with the loss of my son. So, I promised myself that I wouldn't shed tears for her - in-front of her. I never cried alone in-front of her. We cried together over a lot of things...all the first she would miss with me. We cried about how we never thought it would be me being the strong one since I was usually the softest one. We cried over my loss and the promise she made me to watch over my son for me till I met them there. We cried over how much we love each other...we looked to the stars every night for one month and watched the sunrise every morning for a month.

I was there because she needed me to be there. I knew how scared she was and she confided a lot of things that are just between me, her and the nights we spent talking underneath the stars. I have no regrets. I did everything I possibly could to make her last summer the best it could be. I helped her as much as I could. I danced with her every day. Even when I knew it would hurt her a little, if she wanted to dance, we danced. I remember when she grabbed my hand and told me it hurts to hold my hand but she still wanted to hold my hand...and I remember how often I prayed for one more week, one more day, one more hour, one more minute...and then I got no more. 

On August 19th 2005 she died. She passed away and was never coming back. I would never hear her words of encouragement or scolding me for doing something reckless again. She would never again be the one I call up at 5 am for comfort because I was feeling a little lost. I couldn't stop crying. I was so angry and hurting and there was so so much pain I felt crippled by it...but somehow I wrote a eulogy. I made it through those days of agonizing pain...Then I was sent back to school. My Mama knew my heart so much she knew I would want to stay but she wanted me to finish school...and I never did finish University...because the following year my relationship ended, I got sick and my Papa died the same month. Then I had my own abnormal cells to deal with...I just gave up on being happy.

I thought I would never be happy ever again. One of the poems I read in this book of poetry her and my Papa got me helped. I wanted to give up. This helped me...even if I cry, when I read this I remember all the things she would tell me about being strong. How she would tell me I had a strong heart. How she would tell me everything would be okay. How she, somehow, with just a hug, made it better because she was there. How she told me if she could do something - I could do it too. So, if she could live after losing her Mum at such a young age, then I could learn to do the same. Her will is like fire and everyone in this family carries that flame. This is what the heart of the young man said to the psalmist...

So, tomorrow I am going to pretend to be okay...because really...right now...I'm not. My Aunt is dying of lung cancer. I have already lost my Mama and mon Oncle to it. My other Aunt just fought off lung cancer. I feel like I have done nothing but lose those I love or come close to it. Then learn how to live with the pain of their absence in my every day life. Or the fear of cancer returning. Now, it's a little too coincidental for me that my Aunt would be told she only had some many weeks left just a week shy of when my Mama was told. So no. I am not okay. But I am here. I am strong. I live yet. I just don't know if I have it in me to pray for a miracle. Although I do believe miracles could happen. 

Or maybe the miracle is that we get people in our lives that are amazing and love us. People that see us, that believe in us and that want more for us. People that soothe us and that care for us. Maybe the real miracle is being able to bask in the feelings they shower us in while they live and when they leave...we have the memory of it etched forever in our hearts to call upon to soothe the tempest of grief in our souls. Memories are only as strong as the feelings attached to them...and my Mama's was unconditional love. I really, really miss her...

Doreen Stanger Polson

Lived for 64 years

Loved every single one of mine