Missing chapel!

I've mentioned before that I follow a number of Caringbridge and Care Pages sites, mostly of children dealing with cancer. In a strange way, beginning to follow them in November or December last year after my mom's death from cancer was a part of healing, despite the fact that these were very different situations. Well, in one sense at least. It was a random happening, but obviously one meant to happen. When browsing in the bookstore at the university one day near the end of the semester, I ran across a book called "Notes Left Behind", written by Brooke and Keith Desserich about their six-year-old daughter's nine-month fight against DIPG (diffuse intrinsic pontine glioma). The website for their foundation, dedicated to a cure for ALL cancers beginning with one of the most difficult to treat, pediatric brain cancer, included a Heroes page-children who were either currently battling or had died from brain cancer. Many of these pages had links to websites (most of them Caringbridge or CarePages, a few were blogs or other websites), which I began clicking on out of curiosity. There, I discovered the incredible service that is CaringBridge (and Carepages, but I feel it is not set up quite as well-a person feeling) and began following the families. It has expanded, as families post about other families. A few weeks ago, I began following a woman who has Sarcoidosis. I take the following information from her site-although I had heard about it before, I did not have a detailed idea of what it is.

It’s a disease of unknown cause that leads to inflammation. It can affect various organs in the body. Normally, your immune system defends your body against foreign or harmful substances. For example, it sends special cells to protect organs that are in danger. These cells release chemicals that recruit other cells to isolate and destroy the harmful substance. Inflammation occurs during this process. Once the harmful substance is destroyed, the cells and the inflammation go away.In people who have sarcoidosis, the inflammation doesn’t go away. Instead, some of the immune system cells cluster to form lumps called granulomas (gran-yu-LO-mas) in various organs in your body.

She has four adopted children, from my understanding, all of whom have some degree of additional needs than most teenagers, and is a single mom. Her diagnosis of sarcoidosis came more than four years ago, and it has definitely made things very, very, very challenging for her. 

She could use your prayers, but that's partially an aside. The main reason my thoughts came to this blog was because she posted about a song that we used to sing in chapel and once sung as a choir during a special concert (can't remember exactly what, I do believe I was in grade twelve...and come to think of it, I think I sang it at a teacher's wedding-she asked for a group of volunteers from the concert choir to sing, and I was super excited to do so! It was great). Anyways, it's called In Christ Alone.

Lyrics to song... In Christ Alone
Stuart Townend, Keith Getty

In Christ alone my hope is found,
He is my light, my strength, my song;
this Cornerstone, this solid Ground,
firm through the fiercest drought and storm.
What heights of love, what depths of peace,
when fears are stilled, when strivings cease!
My Comforter, my All in All,
here in the love of Christ I stand.

In Christ alone! who took on flesh
Fulness of God in helpless babe!
This gift of love and righteousness
Scorned by the ones he came to save:
Till on that cross as Jesus died,
The wrath of God was satisfied -
For every sin on Him was laid;
Here in the death of Christ I live.

There in the ground His body lay
Light of the world by darkness slain:
Then bursting forth in glorious Day
Up from the grave he rose again!
And as He stands in victory
Sin's curse has lost its grip on me,
For I am His and He is mine -
Bought with the precious blood of Christ.

No guilt in life, no fear in death,
This is the power of Christ in me;
From life's first cry to final breath.
Jesus commands my destiny.
No power of hell, no scheme of man,
Can ever pluck me from His hand;
Till He returns or calls me home,
Here in the power of Christ I'll stand. 

Well, that got me remembering not only that song, but when I had to see if I could find it on Itunes (I could of course, numerous versions), I came across so many of the other praise and worship songs that were sung during chapel. I'm a nostalgia person, no way of getting around it, and that made me very nostalgic. 

Some of the top favourites from back then...

Blessed be your name (which will still always be remember as S's song, as it was sung during the school memorial service for him-he died when I was in grade nine and he was in grade eight from a sudden heart attack brought on as a complication from being born with a serious heart condition-my guess from the description would be hypoplastic left heart syndrome, in which the left side of the heart is underdeveloped). 

Come to Jesus (which was also sung at that service...funny how it is now one of my top comfort songs)

What the world will never take (the lyrics of which helped me out in the hospital)

How deep the father's love for us

I can Only Imagine

God of Wonders

Come, now is the time to worship

Romans 16:19 

Here I am to worship

Open the eyes of my heart lord

How great is our God

Our God is an Awesome God

We fall down

Worthy is the lamb

Mighty to Save

Grace like rain

Okay, I guess it's safe to say that I pretty much loved everything. I posted Romans 16:19 because I have so many great memories of singing it on youth retreats and during grade eight outdoor ed...we would always start singing it faster and faster until it was crazy :) Good times. 

I guess out of everything, what I miss the most about my high school years is being able to have lots of deep conversations about faith. Some of my friends at the FoM are Christian, some are not. Many are what lots of our generation is-'God yes, Religion No'. Because my faith is so important to me, it is sometimes hard not having the ability to discuss things with teachers and my friends, or in bible class. Also, I have long since aged out of the youth retreats that were a joint venture between all the presbyterian churches in my area (as none of us have very many young people). I am the only young person between 14 and 32 that generally comes to my church, and while I love my church community and feel comfortable there, it is hard when there are basically little kids, and then, for the most part, adults over 55! One summer a couple of years back, I looked around during the service and saw that not only was I the youngest person there at 18 or 19, but my MOM at over 50 was the second youngest person. Of course, that was the summer...

Despite the fact that my dad is a retired diaconal minister, I have never really been able to talk that much about faith/religion with him. Probably because it comes into the 'emotional' range very frequently, and that has never been a part that I can share with my parents (it was especially my mom but my dad as well). On points such as finding the passage in Timothy that summed up very clearly the biblical basis for dressing modestly, sure, that's fine, but not in talking about say, the bible verse that is my ultimate favourite, and what I try to live by..."Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud" (1 Corinthians 13:4). 

Today I nearly began crying before the concerto competition...it was pretty silly the trigger, what my first thought was "I wish L was here" (my flute teacher) but then it sprang into "I wish my mom was here". But, it didn't turn into a major issue. I guess that for a long time, perhaps forever, I will feel these feelings. Not the most pleasant of ideas, but I am beginning to accept that that is part of life. 

God is the same, yesterday, today and forever. 

Romans 16:19 says

Overworking myself, yet I can't stop!

Today was a prime example of the fact that I am overworking myself, not balancing time correctly, and definitely not getting enough sleep. I got less than 5 hours last night, and ended up missing my opera history class, which I really didn't want to do, but the essay for research methods just hadn't come together yet, and I usually have almost no time on tuesdays-basically, I have classes straight through with very little break time from 8:30am until 6:30pm-with travel time between buildings, I have only about 45 minutes at most, and that only happens twice, and both of those times I need to be eating either lunch or dinner inbetween. So, I hid out in one of the other libraries on campus and worked on the essay, which once again got emailed in at 11:59...ouch. Why does this feel incredibly like deja vu!? And, once again, I have a 20th century assignment due tomorrow that has basically not been touched. Okay, so those are signs of things, but the true signs began around noon, when I had absolutely no appetite, although I forced myself to eat a small muffin I had packed and my greek yogurt (very slowly I might add). Whatever, I thought, I haven't had much of an appetite at all the past few days anyways. But, then in Wind Ensemble, I noticed that my lower stomach was cramping a bit, and that although I was incredibly thirsty (which I really shouldn't have been), I couldn't have more than really small sips of water at once because I was a bit nauseous. It wasn't anything major, I managed to get through, and the second half was a woodwind sectional and a bit more relaxed atmosphere and everything anyways. What really started to concern me a bit was that I kept feeling like I couldn't take a deep enough breath, like there was pressure inside my chest or something blocking things. It wasn't wheezy, or congested, I didn't need to cough, nothing like that. When it was at it's worst, I would start feeling my heart rate and blood pressure go up. Although my stomach issues began to resolve somewhat after Wind Ensemble, the breathing got worse for a while before it got better. Sitting down in the lounge before my Research Methods course, I actually had to stand up because I could not breath enough sitting down and figured that standing up straight instead of some slouching would probably be a good thing. I still hadn't had more than the muffin and fat-free greek yogurt, although I made myself some peppermint tea, which probably helped settle things. The breathing issue/blood pressure/heart rate/type of beating/whatever it was was enough that I had to steady myself more than once going up the three floors to my class, and in class I definitely got the very light-headed starting to black out feeling a couple of times, but just as quickly as that started and I began wondering how on earth in those desks I would manage to put my head between my knees, it cleared up. At the break of Research Methods, I decided to make myself some green tea as I was tired. It wasn't cool enough to drink until I got on the bus. The green tea was another mistake...I did not realize that I had not eaten for around seven hours. Well. I drink my green tea, and transfer buses. THEN it hits me...and I remember why I usually don't drink green tea on an empty stomach, especially if I am feeling a bit sick to begin with. I call them nausea spasms, it feels like it gnaws the stomach a bit in a sort of spasm-ish way as the nausea wave goes past. It was the worst it's ever been, and I was seriously doubting my stomach's strength there, especially as I was still close to 40 minutes from home. Usually, if I start having the green-tea-stomach-issue, eating something helps, but because I hadn't been feeling well to begin with, it was a huge challenge. It took me almost ten minutes to eat a single almond, and I think in total I only managed to eat five. Although the effects lessened, it was still affecting me when I got home for a couple of hours, during which I was working on the essay. All I've been able to eat since is a few more almonds and about a half a cup of dry cheerios, plus a cup of peppermint tea. Perhaps it is a bit more than exhaustion going on, as when I felt my neck randomly, the lymph nodes there felt quite a bit larger than normal and a bit more tender, but I bet that could be attributed to physical stress and exhaustion as well. Either way, despite all this, I'm still planning on having to do an all-nighter this weekend to do some catch up. But, I have to get more sleep on wednesday night and thursday night so that I am prepared for my driving test friday (yikes!).

And with that, I go to bed with my 20th century assignment...

One year teaching anniversary!

Today (November 13th) marks my one-year teaching anniversary. Last year on November 13th, still very raw, I began teaching Sunrise, the prekeyboard level of Music for Young Children. It was a very bittersweet day...a very fulfilling experience, but the person who I was dying to share it with was gone. My mom, the one who took my sister and I to, in total a combined ten years' worth of MYC lessons (not to mention years and years of driving, attending, and paying (!) for recitals, flute and piano lessons, concerts, camps, rehearsals...thousands of times driving me to music events) and who was the biggest proponent of the program besides MYC teachers that I have yet to meet. ANY time she was talking to someone and they suggested even the faintest interest in their children taking music lessons, she would talk about the MYC programs and why they were so amazing. When I recently went on a photo hunt for pictures of just my mom and I, one of the only ones I could find was of us at christmas time when I was five and she is wearing her MYC sweatshirt. She was still wearing that sweatshirt when I was 19 (more than 10 years after my graduation from the program)...she might have even worn it when I was 20, but I'm not sure. All I really remember her wearing when I was twenty were her fleece pajama pants (the waists horribly stretched out from her swollen stomach) and then hospital gowns.

I don't think a class goes by when I don't want to talk about what we were doing with my mom, or share one of the crazy things that the kids did. At least I have my fellow MYC teachers, and to a lesser extent my dad and friends to share this joy with.

My brain has changed since becoming an MYC teacher...I am a dollarama addict, a sticker-aohlic, I talk to animals like birds, dinosaurs, elk, I can dance (five-year-old style), I frequently sing in minor thirds, and I spend my friday evenings singing songs about how crescendos are fun and Beethoven, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I love my job.

Remembering...

Last year on November 8th, I went back to school following the strangest week of my life. Two years ago, I had no clue that in just a few days, my mom would begin having tests and the discovery would be made that she had a large mass on her right ovary. My journal entry from two years ago on November 8th is that of a typical 19-year-old young music student with an eating disorder...

Nov 8th 2009
Once again the last page of a journal. Well, today was a pretty humdrum typical sunday. Church, helping out in sunday school, telling myself I'm not going to eat cookies and then doing so anyway (argh I have GOT to stop that!) having a simple lunch, mom and I went for a walk, me procrastinating on getting to work on my theory, then doing it while listening to N's [my best friend] mom on Musically Speaking (in this case theory was a deceptive resolution sequence, though I have yet to figure out why it is such) having dinner with mom, then I went down to walk and walked for 3 miles at 3 mph/10% incline and burning about 250-275 calories. I wish it was more. Way more. I did my 250 crunches and 35 pushes and now want to finish reading Coot Club [a book in the Swallows and Amazons series by Arthur Ransome]. Sigh, I didn't practise today...

I was a little bit concerned about my mom's health at that point...she had been losing weight, didn't have much of an appetite, and then there was the coughing. I had actually forgotten about the coughing. It was one of the symptoms that actually pushed my mom to get in to see the doctor. Still, I was thinking that there was something going on with her lungs perhaps, as she had had bronchitis once or twice when I was child, and had had pneumonia several times when she was a kid. And, with her stomach acid issues (intense heartburn), we were all thinking that maybe she had an ulcer. Normal, everyday things, that can easily be fixed with some pills and a few weeks (if that) of treatment. But, in the end, I was more concerned about practising for my audition on November 11th. It was in the back of my mind that mom had a doctor's appointment on November 17th, but not at the front. I probably was thinking along the lines of how everything would be easier once she had the appointment because she would stop coughing (and having stomach problems because of the coughing and the acid) and the house would be calmer. Flash forward to November 20th 2009. The entry in my journal from that day...just 12 days later...has an incredibly different feel to it.

November 20th 2009
I finally have both the time and the ability to write again. This journal doesn't quite feel like a friend yet I guess [the November 9th entry was the first day]. And things have been just bouncing along. Yeah, right, bouncing along like someone being dragged behind on a rocky road, really sharp stoned, holding onto the tail of a big horse that was spooked by a snake and is now running top speed with me hanging on for whatever reason. Everything feels like it's falling apart and I'm in the middle. Might as well start at the beginning. That I skipped church to work on my canadian history essay. Well, in part because i had the performance at S.S.W's place on sunday afternoon. Which was okay I guess. Though, N cued us in and my gosh, it was probably at about 126 or 132, something like that. It was SO CRAZY FAST! And yet we managed to pull it off. Just as I managed to pull of my minuet that was due on monday although I don't know how I did on it. Though I felt pretty okay. [for the record, it was a B+...actually one of my lower marks in theory 3]. Tuesday of course was mom's appointment. Like I had anticipated, they did chest x-rays, trying to find the reason behind her cough. I guess they didn't find anything because there have been no phone calls. But Dr. R took one look at her stomach and ordered abdominal ultrasounds and ct scans. And she has a yeast infection but that should have cleared up by now. Her ultrasound was today-placed on the urgent waiting list does get some things done quickly I guess. Mom says that they did an internal as well. I am more concerned about mom though, now more than I have been except my worry about how my being in the hospital affected her. Her cough has gotten worse, so much so that she was sick last night in the kitchen because I was brushing my teeth and it came on suddenly. And when she mentioned that before Grandma even had her, she had had an abdominal cyst removed and before that had had a lot of fluid retention in her abdomen like mom. Though, of course, neither of us knows what she looked like-a little before our time! But when she suggested that, my mind started reeling-well, on wednesday. Tuesday I was still coming to terms with "this isn't an ulcer or just hormones". Now all I feel is that unspoken six-letter word-cancer. And I'm thinking ovarian cancer. Stage 3 or 4...incurable. My mom, the healthy parent, suddenly sick. It's a bit unnerving. Now we wait. It's going to take them a week or so to go over the ultrasound test results [it was only over the weekend-the seriousness of it warranted quick action]. She still has to go for a ct scan but they could phone for her to come in at 10pm! I guess I am also very worried that, well, what if they can't find anything from these tests? How much longer can she carry on like this? She has retained so much fluid that if you didn't know her age and didn't see her face you would think she was several months pregnant. And her heartburn she hasn't gotten any better. She has problems walking now, she can't go very far and her muscles are always bothering her because of the coughing. She has been coughing so much today. I grant that some is probably stress-related, but surely not this much, or this bad.

And mom is only part of it! M [basically my dad's boss at work during that time] is being nasty [I really wrote 'nasty'?] again. Dad got a letter dated Nov 3rd in his mailbox at work. Yet another one about why he shouldn't be there. Dad showed me the original claims and his rebuttals. Her claims are absolutely preposterous, ludicrous, insane, abysmal, ridiculous. And to think that I once admired M! I think I can cross that name off the names of girls that I like. Along with Anna. I used to think both names were beautiful, I no longer do. Dad talked with a lawyer today, the one who is across the hall from the place where my mom works. This may even involve Dad sueing or the Human Rights Board because of their claims that his health is a risk to the mission and the patrons as well as himself. I would say M is even more in trouble when it comes to health than dad. She's close to 300 pounds and definitely doesn't eat well. Dad mostly doesn't eat so much bad food, just too much.

Which brings me to my own tuesday. I took my laptop to school to work on my essay. Turns out it's heavier than i thought! But it was very useful. Although when I got home I had to work on my essay for longer and still didn't finish it on tuesday evening. I stayed up past midnight but then I saw the perfect way to keep questions down and yet still get to my morning appointment. I then slept in a bit, though my sleep was interrupted BEFORE my alarm by mom seeking comfort. Which at 7:15 in the morning all I could do was be "the voice of reason"-her words, not mine.

And so begins the mention of the word cancer in my journal entries. Probably can't think of a journal entry after that that didn't have the mention of the word cancer until perhaps recently when I wrote only a couple of sentences, or the journal entries that were just my attempts at scheduling and making to-do lists.

I hate cancer.

Last year...

Last year on November 5th, we grieved and celebrated. Last year, my mom's ashes were interned, and we had the funeral. Some very, very clear memories from that day. But, I actually don't feel like writing about them. Which is strange, because the past few days I've felt like I've been reliving every second. Perhaps I'm just happier today. My classes this morning and this afternoon went pretty well, although my Sunshines had great difficulty with the K piece we had done this past week...hence, I will be adding it onto the next lesson as well. It is the first K piece to use more than one critter/note, and uses stepping up patterns, which they had not done at the keyboard yet. Today was, for them, I think just a bit of an off day too, one of them had a cold, and my youngest one was a bit hyper today. But, other than the K piece, it went decently well. And my Sunbeams class went quite well with the keyboard today. Best yet in terms of preparation. THE best part of my job is seeing my students improve from week to week and really 'get' things and their excitement over that. I love it and it makes me feel special to be a part of their learning.

I think part of the reason that I'm feeling pretty okay right now is that I went to a concert tonight, of the provincial senior honour band. I was part of it for two years four and five years ago now (which made me feel old when I read that it was the 34th annual senior honour band and I remembered that I was in the 29th and 30th senior honour bands!), and it was an amazing experience both years. This year, it was conducted by a very special man, who I had as a conductor during NYB 2008 and then at IMC later that year. He has an incredible sense of humour, is receptive to everyone, and is an overall amazing conductor. I have to say that some of my best music memories come from NYB 2008 and the rehearsals and stories that he told...plus, all the other crazy things that went on. Our percussionists were very musical, but something got lost in the translation with them. They seemed to fit the rather unfortunate stereotype percussionist joke "How can you tell if the stage is level? The drool comes out both sides of the drummer's mouth". For instance, one of them once raised their hand and said "We need two tambourines for this piece". Conductor: "Do you have two tambourines?" Percussionist: "Yes". The rest of us in the band were sitting there trying to comprehend what had just happened...

So, I got to talk to him afterwards, and that was nice. Plus, I saw my former flute teacher from high school-it's always great to see her. And, I saw some of my friends from orchestra who were playing in the band (high school students grades 9-12). I miss seeing them each week! It was an amazing music evening, starting out with one of the military bands. They played one of the pieces that always reminds me of my mom, called October by Eric Whitacre. Actually, I thought we did it as a Wind Ensemble last year, but it turns out that we didn't. It was with Concert Band. I am confusing it with Colours and Contrasts of Grief, which is also a very beautiful work, and which for some reason I listened to obsessively during the 2009-2011 season of challenges, changes, and grief. The recording of Colours and Contrasts that I listened to was from NYB 2009. I found a youtube clip of October online, which I posted, but I could not find one of Colours and Contrasts of Grief, which is unfortunate, as it is beautiful.

October By Eric Whitacre

'Strong'

People say I'm strong
But it's hard to feel that way
When night after night
You sit in front of the computer screen
Remembering, and crying
Ignoring the homework
Studying and Practising
Letting the laundry and cooking
Pile up
People say that I'm strong
But I don't feel that way
When I stay up late
Because I get so depressed
That I can't even go to bed
People say that I'm strong
But it doesn't seem that way
When I can't focus enough
In those 8:30am classes (or 11:30 for that matter, or 2:30)
And find that I'm half-asleep
And my notes are illegible
People say that I'm strong
But it doesn't feel that way right now

November 3rd...yet another day.

November 3rd last year was perhaps the strangest day of my life. Waking up and realizing that the world as I knew it was drastically different, and could never be the same again. I had, naturally (although in some guilt), decided not to go down to the university for three days (figuring in part that if adults get three days' leave, that university students should be granted the same benefit), so I wasn't forced to wake-up early. To be honest, at that point in the year, I'm not even sure I had any classes on wednesdays...as I had dropped 20th century about two, maybe three weeks beforehand. I do know that I was putting on the 'farce' that I was still in the course. Again, in all honesty, I have not mentioned to any of my family that I dropped two courses last year. Somehow, that does feel honest, but I couldn't deal with one, either their possible faint disapproval, two, their sympathy, or three, their questions about 'how I was dealing'. Well, like all strange days, that meant some strange eating. Strange eating that I shouldn't have done. I THINK that I had some cereal at some point in the morning, but the thing I do remember is having about a half a piece of cold pizza from the Boston Pizza trip the night before...spicy chicken something or other. THAT was the mistake part. Apparently, my stomach was not designed to handle spice like that (or perhaps the fat content too) at 11:30 in the morning. The stomachache didn't start for a little while, but when it did, I was not thrilled at all. I curled up on my bedroom floor under my comforter with the heating pad, and then put my laptop on top of some textbooks (easily accessible from the crate by my desk) and put in a MASH dvd (season 3...one of the episodes was "A Smattering of Intelligence"-it is odd the things you remember), hoping that the heat and lying on my left side would cure me quickly. It didn't, and when it was time to leave for the funeral home, I was still in pain, and not really wanting to budge, but I couldn't tell my dad (again, the sympathy etc thing, plus this weird need to keep any physical or emotional status from my family), and I also couldn't NOT go. So, off we went. I did take half of a gravol tablet on the way, thinking that it might help.

The funeral home meeting with my dad, my sister and myself was well, something to say the least. To be honest, seeing my mom before cremation was easier than seeing her in the hospital the last time. They had put her in the clothes that she had requested to be cremated in, so it was more normal, and her eyes and mouth had been shut. I won't forget how she looked in either place, however...those memories are burned into my brain forever. After that meeting, we went over to the church to talk with our minister. Again, honesty here, I think that my mom's funeral was probably one of the hardest ones our minister has ever had to do...our families have been good friends since my minister was ordained and began preaching at our church, nearly 13 years ago now. My parents used to play bridge with them, we have gone out to their cottage, and my mom worked for the minister's husband for 4 years and a bit, until she became too sick from the cancer. In the midst of my turmoil, I definitely felt sorry for my minister! What she asked was for us to just 'talk about her...anything'. I have a feeling that she already knew what she was going to say, but it's probably standard procedure. So we did...all those things about my mom that made her unique, like her love of mysteries, how she had taped every single episode of every single star trek series, the sewing and how my house was thus filled with fabric, how she almost never got the punch line of a joke and definitely didn't understand sarcasm. I'd say as a whole that some of my most special memories are of spending sunday afternoons or time in the summer with her, especially when my dad and sister were not at home, and doing things like sewing, baking, watching history documentaries or old movies together (ones she had taped, of course), sometimes gardening (although that wasn't my favourite...I'm not a huge fan of dirt on my hands, it sometimes feels a bit like nails on the chalkboard sound-to me at least). That sort of thing. If I could go back in time, I would spend fewer sunday afternoons with my textbooks, and more sunday afternoons with her. Hindsight is, of course, a wonderful thing...I mean, I really could have budgeted my time better so that I was spending more with her. But, I didn't know. I was young, and she was the healthy parent until the summer of 2009, when little by little, she began to have problems with eating, etc, etc. We so often talked about how she would be the one at 95 still going to tai chi class. We were off by more than 40 years. I never figured that my children (if I have any) would be in the same position that I was, not having a maternal grandma. It just never crossed my mind.

My biggest fear remains that I am carrying defective genes, that cannot be tested for, that may develop into a cancer that cannot be prevented or scanned for until it is too late...and not that I might one day develop this, but that I might develop this in 10, 15 years, when many women are married and have young children...like I hope to in 10 or 15 years...and that I will follow the same path in unsuccessful treatment, and leave my children without a mother at so young an age. Throughout all of this my mom said that the only blessing was that my sister and I were older, and not in grade school, or toddlers. And of course, I do worry about the possibility of having defective genes to pass along, and have the cycle repeat.

Missing my mom today lots. Grief physically hurts, and it comes on in unexpected waves...to be honest, I was not expecting to feel quite like this at the one year mark.

Survival

Survival was, for the most part, the name of the game today. I did go up to the columbarium this morning, pretty early, I got there before 8am. It was quite cold out, and I accidently got off the bus a stop too soon, so I had longer to walk. In total, I was outside for more than half an hour in -5 celsius weather, in mostly-darkness. And, I guess I really wasn't dressed that well for it. I should have worn big warm mitts instead of my little black mini-gloves and perhaps a hat. My feet were quite cold too by the time I got on the bus to go downtown. I did have a bit of a crying fest, but I expected it. Also a minor mild panic when I realized that two members of my church (they live very close to the church-basically behind it) were coming down the street. Now, these are very wonderful people, who have been an important part of our church, and my life, for all of my life, BUT, I did not want anyone to see me or talk to me right then. This was my time alone with 'my mom'. Thankfully, they either did not see me, or they saw me and realized that it wouldn't be good to interact with me. I hope they do not mention at any point.

Like I posted before, it was the first time I had been there since her internment last November 5th. Seeing the plaque with her dates posted made it 'real' again. I talked a bit out loud, it was quite strange, but I have the feeling that if I go again, it'll be easier and more natural. My post on facebook today mentioned that at times it feels like it was yesterday and at other times it feels like it was a lifetime ago.

I managed to be okay on the buses to school, which is good, I had enough crying on the public city bus last November 2nd (when, of all days, my bus took 45 minutes longer than it should to get me back up to my end of the city). I wasn't very productive when I got to the university around 9:30 in the morning, but perhaps I really just needed some time to talk on a superficial level with some friends in the lounge. Can't really remember what we were talking about, although I did show a couple of pictures that I managed to find of my mom and I...it was surprisingly hard to find pictures of just the two of us. All I could find was one from when I was about 1 month old, and then one from when I was 5 at Christmas time. I guess being child number two, there are fewer pictures! At least those two are good.

I didn't feel very well for much of the day, starting around 12:30 in recital. I was really tired, and tried to get comfortable to just close my eyes and enjoy the music ( I cannot sleep sitting up so that was not an issue), but my head and neck just couldn't get comfortable, and then a headache started, and I began having cold/hot flashes, where I would have a violent shiver, and then a hot flash directly after. Not so much fun. I definitely was not in the mood for eating today, although I managed to do so. Food just wasn't very appealing is all. I had sectional at 2:30. I should clarify that sectional is when the flutes of Wind Ensemble get together on their own (no conductor or anything) for about an hour once a week and work through specific aspects of the pieces we are playing or even just things like tuning and blending together. Plus, it's a good time to interact a bit and keep our friendships solid. I feel very blessed that in general, all of the flutes in the faculty get along well together, and really support one another. Well, yesterday, one of my fellow flautists and friends found out that her grandma was very sick (she ended up leaving Wind Ensemble rehearsal early to go see her). When her phone rang in sectional, I knew before I saw the tears that her grandma had died. So, November 2nd was a sad day for her as well. I guess we're kind of supporting each other in this, although it is kind of hard right now to be really there for people, because I am feeling well, needy myself right now.

I'm feeling a bit better now, physically at least. No more headache, and I am not shivering/flashing. I did take some tylenol in the afternoon, so perhaps that helped. I didn't have a fever (if anything, I was under...only 97.9), so I'm not sure what exactly was going on. Perhaps it was just a stress reaction. I guess I'm just feeling drained overall though, but I have to complete an outline for tomorrow, plus do some lesson preparation. Sigh, sigh, sigh, sigh, sigh.

And, just a few minutes ago I saw on facebook that one of my friends had her house broken into...her laptop, and her parent's laptops were stolen, along with their chargers and other electronics. And, this is not the first time that it has happened. Not a nice situation at all. She is fortunate that all of her important files were backed up on her USB that she has at the university, but her parents were not so lucky.

I also found out that one of the children whose cancer journey I have been following on Caringbridge died today. He was two years old and had been battling leukemia for nearly all of his life. He had a bone marrow transplant from his perfect-match brother 47 days ago, and the transplant itself was successful, but then a series of other problems began. He died today in the arms of his mother, after being seperated from that experience for 40 days. So, if anyone wants to take November 2nd off of the calender, I would fully support it.

Last year on November 2nd, although I was expecting my mom to die, I was not expecting it to happen that afternoon. I had been there for about four hours in the morning when I 'had' to leave for Wind Ensemble rehearsal. To this day I still regret that I did, and yet not. It's a confusing feeling. I felt so torn up leaving, I had that feeling that I shouldn't...but pretty much every time I had left, I had had that feeling that I shouldn't. But at the same time, when something like that happens, you berate yourself for not being able to sense things better. I played through Wind Ensemble, although I don't really remember what we were playing...I do know that we were playing Appalachian Spring by Aaron Copland, which if I were to listen to it, would probably make me cry because there was a beautiful flute solo that my friend A. was playing, a long flute solo, and the mournful character always made me think about my mom. But I can't remember if we played anything else, although I am sure we did (It is a 2.5 hour long rehearsal!). The only other thing I remember about the rehearsal is my conductor (having only been informed the day before by me that my mom was about to die, and then only because I needed to reschedule my playing test) taking a second to say "If there's anything I can do". I was about half-way home when I looked at my cell phone and saw that my sister had called. I was texting a friend (who was in the hospital for bulimia treatment) and had put my phone away for a minute. I actually texted her first saying that I "thought my mom had died". It was just too much to believe, even though I knew it was true (stage one of grief...denial). THEN I phoned my sister back and I remember the exact words..."You need to come say goodbye"...I said I was on my way, and she (knowing that I had been planning to renew my driver's license that day on the way home added "You need to come straight here...she's gone". So, there I am, I know exactly the spot on the way home where the bus was when I found out. A crowded, public bus. I tried to distract myself with my book, but it was a memoir of a young man from Vietnam during the time that it fell to communism (and afterwards). So, not exactly happy stuff! And, like mentioned before that was the day when the buses took me close to twice as long to get up there. Walking into the hospital that day was pretty much the hardest thing I have ever done. And I can't begin to describe what it was like to see my mom there and then leave.

I still have the messages that people sent to me in my email inbox. Not sure why, but having them there provides comfort.

Although my brain knows that my mom is gone from this earthly life, everyday is still strange without her and it is still very difficult not to have her in my life. People say I'm strong, but right now, with an essay outline due tomorrow that I have not started, I am not feeling strong, but very weak and lazy instead. Definitely fighting against my emotions here...