Ouch. Missing my Mamma.

January 1, 2009.

This year I had a quiet New Years Eve at home and really enjoyed the solitude. But, today is a tough one.

Today is the 3rd anniversary of my Mom's death and the first anniversary of my Sweet Caroline's death. Somehow I knew that Caroline was going to pass away the same day as Mom. Just knew it in my bones.

I've been wanting to write a blog about my Mom and today seems like a good day for it. The picture above is from when I was 15. We're sitting on the front step at 'home' and I can still remember how it felt to have my arms around her. Sorry for the crappy quality... I took a photo of this picture with my cell phone so the quality is lousy, but the love is still palpable.

My Mom was amazing.

I know, I know. Everyone's Mom is amazing.... but my Mom was such a Mom. She absolutely loved being a Mom and was so good at it. She read to us and found such creative ways to make all four of her children feel like they were the center of the universe. She was gentle and sweet.... you know the Mamma Kangaroo in Winnie-the-Poo (Kanga)? She reminded me of my Mom. The picture above is of my Mom with my brother Darryl. Do you see how much she loves her baby?!! Everytime my Dad took a picture, the flash made Darryl's eyes cross and Mom just loved it. (Isn't she pretty?!) I actually submitted this picture to The Globe and Mail for a Mother's Day edition and they posted it.

My Mom taught me so much, but the greatest gift she gave me was teaching ME how to be a Mom. Nothing is more important to me than being a good Mom to my brats and nurturing them has come naturally because of her legacy.

As I mentioned before in my "Aunt Gay" post, my Mom came from a big, wonderful French family. She was the baby of eleven kids and they teased that she arrived "once the bread was buttered", after the depression.

My Mom loved to laugh and did so often. She loved food and wine and every single one of my boyfriends fell in love with her. While growing up, our house was a place where everyone was welcome and my friends loved to be there.

My Mom was diagnosed with MS before I was even born. I don't remember her being healthy, really. I always wondered why she couldn't run and somehow it just seemed normal that she needed to rest every afternoon. By the time I was a teenager, she was using a walker and a wheelchair. By the time I left home, things deteriorated even further. I remember feeling a lot of anger about her disease. How could someone as sweet and kind as her end up with such a horrible fucking disease? How? In what world is that just or fair?

Mom was very, very practical. I remember learning about reincarnation in my early 20's and I really liked the concept. It made sense. I talked to Mom about it and I told her "You know, Mom.... maybe you and Dad have been together in a life before this. Maybe in this life, he needed to learn some lessons about being unselfish and having to care for another person. Maybe you chose this disease to help him discover that within himself." Mom took a second to think about it then said "I'd like to think I would have found another way." Touche Mamma.

I miss her today. I miss her so much but I wouldn't wish her back. At the end of her life, she was tube fed, catherterized and I could barely understand what she was saying. She lived in that state for the last 3 or 4 years of her life. She was so, so tired when she finally left us yet I never once heard her complain. This is not an exaggeration. Never once.

"How are you doing, Mom?"

The answer was always, ALWAYS "Great!" with a big smile. Even when this woman could not scratch her own nose if it was itchy, she would tell me that she was 'Great!'.

My Mom was so loved. She lived long enough to meet all of her grandchildren. She had so much in this life and I know she was grateful for all of it, but man.... I just really, really miss her.

To the right is a picture of Mom with my niece, Megan that was taken about 10 years ago; as you can clearly see, Mom delighted in being a Grandma. In this picture, Mom is in her wheelchair and the grandkids always loved sitting with Grandma in her chair. When Connor was 3 and Mom started having a lot of trouble with coordination in her hands, he would sit on her knee and feed her oranges. She loved oranges.... and he actually called her 'Grandma of the Oranges'. I have that on video.

I wish she was here right now so that I could ask her for advice. I wish I could hug her and smell her. I would give anything to hear her laugh again. Yes, I'm grateful that I was given such an amazing Mom, don't be me wrong. But I'm greedy. I want her back, healthy and laughing and playing with her grandkids. I want to shop with her and drink wine together and benefit from her practical wisdom. But.... that's not possible, so I will do my best to keep her memory alive and honour her legacy of love by passing it along.

Love you, Mom.

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Marie Delvina Lillian Pelchat Barth (aka 'Lily')

August 10, 1940 - January 1, 2006

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