the gif stays because coffee talk and dumb posts with gif’s were my mom’s favorite.
it’s very appropriate for this type of post, don’t you think?! 

It’s been awhile hasn’t it?

Somehow it’s 2022 and I haven’t blogged in months.  Well, not really “somehow”…. I have been quiet on the blog because I wanted to do some kind of blog post (versus just an instagram post) about losing my Mom at the end of the summer before I did any other blog post, but here we are months later and
every time I sat down to open my laptop and type I would just close it again.

I haven’t posted for a million reasons.  I’m still wrapping my head around my own feelings the last few months,
let alone having the clarity to type something out.

I think one of the big reasons that I struggled to write anything was because I kept this part of my life very private.  In terms of public/blog life, I had never once shared anything about my mom’s health, because she would have killed me.  Kidding…. but no really 🙂 She’d kill me.  But she kept that part of her life private and so did I.  Even in my “real life”, especially in the beginning, I kept it so private that many people close to me weren’t aware of anything until my mom had her lung transplant and the “jig was up” so to speak.  Even when we moved to Atlanta from Chicago, a move that may have happened eventually but that we made happen quickly after certain things with her health, I didn’t want people to know that was the reason.

So, it’s not just because I like to keep things light and breezy and this is blog has always been a fun escape,
but mainly I just don’t know what to say.
I just keep staring at this screen and watching the cursor blink.

There’s only so much self-deprecating humor and sarcasm I can type involving the loss of my parents, ya know?!
that’s to be read with sarcasm and humor 🙂 

I’ve drafted several lengthy posts.  In some of them I go into details on the last few months and years.  In others I talk about all of the signs I’ve gotten in the last few months and how my girls have said so many things to let me know without a doubt that she visits them.  In others I ramble about how my stomach would drop when the phone would ring at an off time, how so many defining moments of my life have been from answering the phone; a middle of the night call to my dorm room in college, or in the back of a cab in Chicago when I knew my sister wouldn’t be calling me that time of the day, or the one happy call when I was sleeping over with my Mom so she could go to my ultrasound appointment with me and it was the call that they had a donor for her transplant. (That one takes the cake for a million reasons because obviously it was a call we needed and had been waiting over a year to hopefully receive, but also because she didn’t answer it and kept picking up the phone and hanging up – her signature move for spam calls – and saying “I’m so sick of these damn political calls!” until her best friend called with the news and told her SHE had gotten the call when they couldn’t get ahold of her.)

I realized in writing out all those posts and putting the experiences I’ve had down on paper that although it helped me to get it all out, I don’t need to share all of the details.  When my Dad suddenly passed away when I was 19, I never saw him as anything but the healthy and happy Dad I had always had.  He never was sick, just taken suddenly and too soon.  But when someone close to you is sick before they pass, for a long time or even a short time, unfortunately the freshest memories of them are of a person they weren’t.  The last few months and even years of her life aren’t what I want to be top of my mind.  Because it wasn’t who she was.

So I think all I want to leave here is a few parts that I wrote in her obituary and a few small parts of the amazing speech my sister gave at her funeral reception.  A few snippets of who she was, because there’s nothing I could type that could ever tell it all.  And then it’ll be back to nonsensical ramblings about TV and the latest Jesus-take-the-wheel-moments of my twin toddlers attempting to take me down one day at a time and other useless garbage.  Because my Mom and I were a lot alike (although her favorite line was that she was “more attractive and funnier” to which I agree) and we believe that sometimes you just need to find a reason to laugh, even in the worst situations.

I can smile and be grateful that she and my Dad are finally reunited, undoubtedly having cocktails and staying up laughing like they always did on the back porch growing up.

tidbits from the obituary : 

Her chocolate chip cookies were as legendary as she was and extra crispy bacon, popcorn, candy, and other less than nutritious comfort foods were her main sources of fuel. She would rather starve than taste a drop of low fat mayonnaise or fat free anything, and was furious when McDonald’s stopped frying their fries in animal fat. A television addict, she could be heard for miles yelling at the TV watching tennis and called her sons-in-law at any hour if the cable or internet went out. No baby boomer learned how to work a laptop faster after discovering the world of online shopping. The mailman, FedEx and UPS drivers all to this day believe her initials are QVC. She would do anything for anyone, but under no circumstances would or should anyone at any time tell her what to do.

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She was often seen driving morning carpool in her bathrobe and Velcro rollers and arrived for afternoon pick-up in her tennis skirt after decimating, as she would say, her latest opponent. With eyes in the back of her head, her children never got away with anything, and even as adults with children of their own, everyone knew who was boss and called the shots.

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Even on her hardest days, she’d throw on a beautiful tunic, Tory Burch slides, spritz some Shalimar and (hopefully) remember to take the velcro roller out of her bangs before regaling everyone around her with her one liners.

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She was strong willed, stylish, sassy, an amazing story teller and incredibly special. There will never be another like her and her friends and family miss her so much. Think of her when perusing styles at Nordstrom, Talbots, HSN or QVC, all beneficiaries of her love of shopping over the years.

tidbits from the speech : 

When our family was first transferred from Chicago to Atlanta in 1986 our Mom was simply devastated.  Our family was given the option of moving to Orange County, California or Atlanta, Georgia.  They sat and debated as to which city would be worse to raise their children in? Should our children become hippies in CA or hillbillies in GA? My Mom woke up the next morning with her final decision and told our Dad “Well, I guess we will go to Deliverance”. 

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Our Mother was not a delicate southern debutante.  She was a fast talking city slicker who spoke her mind and always had something inappropriately hilarious to say.  One of her trademark lines before she really dug in to someone always began with LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING.  Trust me you did not want to be the recipient of Let Me Tell You Something – you better have one foot out the door.  I don’t think this trailblazing behavior was the norm for the good southern ladies that lived in our Subdivision.  I remember her telling me that when she first moved into Sibley many of the housewives she encountered had maids, nannies and busy social calendars of Junior League luncheons and charity events.  She was heard asking many of the housewives “Let me get this straight you don’t work?  You don’t clean your own home and you don’t take care of your own children all day?  What the H E Double Hockey sticks do you do all day??

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  As many of you know, she was the ultimate entertainer.  She consumed the foods of a truck driver but when it came to entertaining my Mom was a class act.  I already prayed to her this morning and asked her for forgiveness that our guests will be using disposable paper napkins.  I could hear her yelling from the heavens  – are you nuts? Get the Monogrammed Linens! I know she would have loved to see her house this way, filled with flowers and all of her favorite memories and friends.

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In closing I would like to share a conversation that I had with my Children this week.  They have asked me several times what I think TuTu is doing in Heaven?  I answered them by saying, I know exactly what TuTu is doing in heaven.  TuTu is sitting in O’Shaughnessy’s Bar with Grandpa Mark.  He is dressed in a beautiful white Tuxedo working the taps and Tutu is dressed in a beautiful gown.  Grandpa Mark has had a tall, cold vodka tonic ready for her on the bar for the last 16 years.  Today, Mom and Dad finally get to share that drink together where it all began.  Cheers to you Mom and Dad we love you so much.  

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and thank you so much for all of your kind messages over the past few months.
they have meant more than you know and I truly appreciate it from the bottom of my heart 🙂