February 26, 2013

I miss you. 

That is all.

G

February 23, 2013

Hello Moother, 

Tomorrow I’m having my annual Oscar party. I’m pretty excited. I’ve had more RSVP’s than I did last year. I know Shannon will definitely show, but we’ll see about the rest. 

I’ve been thinking about how much I miss our phone calls. It’s been really hard for me to not hear your voice everyday. I was making up my menu, and I wished you were around to help me with some ideas for the pizzas I’m going to make. 

Ma, I miss you. I miss you so much that it hurts my heart every day. Every morning. Every Afternoon. Every Evening. I know you’re “in a better place” now, as so many people have been reminding me, but I want you here. 

I was thinking about the day you died, and I started to freak out because I kept thinking about how you stopped fighting. When I arrived you weren’t all there because of the pain meds, did you feel like we were already mourning you and decided to give up? Daddy mentioned that if we could get your strength up you might be able to do more therapy. What if we hadn’t told you it was okay for you let go? Would you still be here getting stronger? Could I still talk to you on the phone? Could I still see you? 

Oh God. 

Ma, if this is the case, I need to know it’s okay. I’m worried that it’s because we too sure you were out of time. Oh God. Is that it? 

I can’t take the pain of not being able to talk to you. 

It’s so weird without around. It’s like I’m in reality, but it’s a Twilight Zone version of it. It’s awful. I know I’m lucky to have Justin, my sisters, Daddy, and my friends, but my world is not right. It’s broken.

I’ve been having panic attacks since I got back from the funeral. I’ve had one everyday for two weeks. I don’t know why I’m having them, but I am. I think part of it is the stress of getting all my work stuff taken care of, my desperate want to have a baby. It might be a fear that I’m going to get sick or worry that Michelle or Joanna might get sick. My heart beats so fast, and I can’t breathe thinking that everything is going to crumble or shatter. 

It just sucks. When people ask me how I am doing, all I can say is okay. It’s the best I can do without lying or telling the real truth that I’m not okay. I’m not great. I feel guilty smiling. I want to say that my world is not right, but it’s none of anyone’s business. 

I also can’t believe you also lived with so much pain and never let it show. How were you so strong? I feel like such a weakling. 

Still, I know have to take the days one and a time. I know that soon God will bless Justin and me with a baby or three (or four) and while I’ll still hurt, I’ll be numb from it and it won’t show through my face, and I won’t need to cry everyday. 

Just know, I miss you. 

I’ll be okay eventually. 

Talk to you soon,

G

 

February 21, 2013

Hello Moother,

It’s almost Friday and thank God. It’s been a trying week. My waves of sadness have been coming on very strong. I find myself disliking work more and more. I keep hoping I get pregnant soon, so that I can bring so good news to the family and can start thinking about maternity leave. I’m so eager to have a baby with my sweet Justin that last night I dreamt that I was running around screaming, “I’m pregnant!” It was so absurd. 

I woke up thinking, “I wish.” 

Even though I have great coworkers, I’ve about had it with adminstration. While I was gone, the sub didn’t follow my lesson plans, and was told by administration that teachers should be grateful that there is a warm body in the classroom. Makes me feel like the two days of prep work and photocopies and labeling was really worth the time. Next time I’m out, the kids are going to watch a movie. If a warm body is all they need, then that warm body can push play on the the DVD player.

The past few days I’ve been keeping my eyes out for new work. I applied for two jobs this week, both at good schools in the area. One of the schools is a private school, probably the best in the area. It is an IB school which I would love to teach at since I enjoyed it so much my first year teaching. Those highly competitive, aggressive students are my favorite. When I randomly checked to see if they were hiring, I noticed the job had been posted on your birthday. I figured it was a sign that you were helping me out.

I also figured that since you’re up there hanging with God, the angels, and saints I wondered if you couldn’t stop by and see St. Joseph. I’ve been praying to him, but I think you putting in a good word for me might help. 

I don’t know why, but I keep imagining Heaven as this place that has offices and secretaries. That you’ve been busy filling out paperwork to get in and that’s why you haven’t really visited Joanna, Michelle, or me.

“It’s a great day in Heaven, please hold.” 

“For God, press 1; for Jesus press 2; If you know your party’s extension please dial it now.” 

“You’re call is very important to us. Please stay on the line.”

I imagine each saint has his or her own cubicle and they have departments. St. Joe is in HR, obviously. 

Anyway, please watch over me as I try to better my sitatuion. I’m not happy at my job. I feel under appreciated and am tired of teaching students who don’t care. It’s exhausting. This week at our department meeting the testing coordinator brought in PSAT scores and showed us how our students were not prepared for college. We were then told to look at the skills tested and to “have a conversation” about what we could do better. One of the teachers in the meeting asked if the parents were made aware that 28 percent of the students were college ready while 72 were not, and the response was, “no, no, no.” Of course, the pressure to pass students at our school is also high, so we must be teaching with rigor, but passing the students as well. Talk about a disconnect.

I was so angry. By the time the meeting ended, I nearly emailed the principal to give my notice. The only departments that were given the test results were math and English. Repeatedly, the testing coordinator kept saying, “I’m not here to point fingers.” 

Oh no? So why are we not informing parents about the lack of preparedness. Why are we not holding students and parents accountable? Why are we just blaming the teachers?

Gah!

Anyway, like I said before, please stop by St. Joseph’s office, put in a good word. The jobs I applied for are at schools where the parents and students value education. While the administration might not be any better at those schools, at least the cliental will be. 

I miss our afternoon phone calls. 

I love you,

G

February 19, 2013 (2.0)

Hello Moother,

I said the rosary for the first time on my own in a long time. I’m doing the rosary for lent this year. My goal is to do it every other day until Easter. As I was saying it, I remembered how whenever we would go on trips to the Gardens or Miami, we would say the rosary once we got on the highway. We did it the day we found my wedding dress, the day we booked most of the vendors for the wedding, and so many other times. I used to hate it, but today as I said it, I could feel your presence, and it was comforting.

Today’s mysteries were the the sorrowful ones which seemed appropriate as that is how I feel most days. I realized as I was praying that I’d never be able to shop with you, or pray with you, or drink Nespresso with you, but I reflected as best I could on each mystery and I think it helped quiet my pain.

I’m glad you insisted on us saying the rosary, because now I feel like I can say it and call on you.

I spoke with Michelle after I wrote to you, and she made a good point. She said you’d come talk to us when you’re ready. I’ll tell you more about how I have envisioned your past week tomorrow.

Love you,

G

February 19, 2013

Hello Moother,

I dreamt of you last night. It seemed to take forever to fall asleep, but I am so grateful that I did. While I dreamt and saw you, I was all too aware it was a dream. 

Joanna and Michelle were with me. We were in this tiny apartment. The apartment had this small kitchen in it. The door opened and at first I could only see the back of your head, but I knew it was you. You sat down at the table with Michelle, Joanna, and me. We all drank Nespresso. 

We kept asking you questions, but you were quiet. We understood that you had died, but you were clearly alive as you sat in front of us. You looked so beautiful, Mommy. You didn’t look anything like how I last remember seeing you. You looked the way you did before you got sick. You told us we could see you everyday from 7 to 9 a.m. in that apartment. You said that everyday, God let you be alive for two hours. 

I remember repeatedly asking you if you were alive, and all you kept saying was yes. I just couldn’t believe it. 

When I woke up, I still had a few hours before I had to get up to get ready for work. I was having a hard time breathing and Justin was worried about me. When I told him I dreamt of you, I lost it. I wanted it to be true that you were alive. It made me so sad, yet I felt this ephemeral happiness. I was excited to see you, even though I knew it was just a dream. 

At the end of the dream, when it was time for you to leave, you stood up and you were wearing this white flowing dress. Suddenly, you lost all the color in your face and you disintegrated. It was awful.

I told Michelle that I dreamt of you, and she said she also dreamt of you. Her dream was very disturbing though. She said she saw you in the casket and you were trying to get out but couldn’t because you were embalmed. It made me sad that Michelle’s dream wasn’t as hopeful as mine. She said she was afraid and found it creepy. 

Last night I wished so badly to dream of you, and you came and found me in my sleep. I’m glad I got to see you even if was only briefly. 

Thank you,

G

 

February 18, 2013

Hello Moother,

Today I didn’t have work because it’s President’s Day. Pretty Awesome. I’ll be back at work after two weeks off tomorrow. While I love not going into work, because, as you know, it depresses me that teachers are treated like poop, I’m glad to get back into the routine of things. I feel bad for my students who have had a sub for two weeks. I’m a little worried about getting the students back on track. God knows there hasn’t been much learning while I’ve been away.I probably could have gone in last week, but since my sadness hits me in waves, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle it.

I’m worried that tonight I’m not going to sleep well in anticipation of going into work tomorrow. I had a panic attack on Friday night; the first one I’ve had in a long time–like 3 years. I also have been having nightmares. Last night I dreamt that Justin and I were in Hawaii. That part was nice. We were on the beach and Justin had walked down the beach to talk to someone. While he was away, the tide started to come in and our things were getting washed away into the ocean. I gathered them before they disappeared and found a dry spot for them. The ocean made me feel afraid. I was worried about sharks. It was strange being afraid of the ocean, since I grew up at the beach and spent so many days and weekends playing and swimming in the water. After I had placed our things away from the high tide, the water became very calm and the water pulled back and all the beach was dry. The water looked like Key Biscayne on a summer day. The water was so low, I could see fish, big and little, swimming around. Suddenly, Justin called to me. I left our things and walked over to him. Once I reached him, the tide suddenly rushed in and our things began to float away. We both ran for our things. I tried to swim over to save our things, but became afraid of what might be in the water, so I asked Justin to swim after it, despite knowing that I am strong swimmer. There was a rush of waves and Justin and our things were swept out to sea. It was awful. I felt like a selfish jerk. I looked the symbols up in my dream dictionary, but the explanations didn’t make any sense.

Well, last night the in-laws took me out to dinner at this Italian restuarant. It was delicious. If Daddy comes to visit, I’ll definitely have to take him there. It was all Northern Italian dishes and all the pasta was made in house. I had the pappardelle in a bolognese sauce. It was delightful. I also got dessert, a chocolate tart. They put crushed hazelnuts on top. It gave me a great idea for my Oscar party dessert. I think I’m going to do a chocolate mouse and crush hazelnuts on top to give it a Nutella feel. I don’t know. We’ll see. Justin got me a cookbook of essential Italian dishes. I’m thinking of making two a week. It might be a nice change since I feel like I make the same damn thing for dinner every week.

Tonight I’m making polenta with pork chops. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with the pork chops yet. I’m hoping the cookbook inspires me.

Talk to you tomorrow.

G

p.s. please visit me soon in my dreams

 

February 17, 2013

Hello Moother,

Today is my 29th birthday. It’s the first birthday that I’m not receiving a phone call, card, or enjoying some homemade cake you’ve made. It’s also been ten days since I’ve looked into your face and spoken to you. Eleven days ago I was sitting by your bedside crying, processing that I had to say goodbye to you and you were saying, “I don’t know what to tell you.” You also asked me to begin making grand-babies for you and daddy. No pressure, or anything. 

Since, it’s been a horrible ten days. It’s weird not being able to call you on a whim. When I go to sleep, I desperately hope to get a visit from you, but it hasn’t happened. I know you’re around because everywhere I look, I’m reminded of you. I keep hoping that you’ll appear, or call, or email, anything to indicate you’re still here. 

Last night, I barely slept thinking about how today would be my first motherless birthday. Even though birthdays have never been a big deal in our family, birthdays are the day that ground you to your mother. It’s the first day of my life that commemorates my not being attached to you. It’s the day we were separated from each other. Still, we were at least on Earth together. That’s no longer the case. 

I found a voicemail from you the other day. You were singing me “Happy Birthday.” I listened to it first thing this morning, and for a brief moment, it made me feel so happy, but then I realized that the feeling was fleeting. I promise not to become obsessive and listen to it over and over again, like I did with Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.”

This birthday won’t ever be a favorite of mine. It will always be the first birthday that I had celebrate without my moother, just like the birthdays of the future. It will go down as the worst, followed by my 23rd birthday when my phone didn’t ring because the settings were off, and I thought everyone forgot about me. 

After I listened to that voicemail, I remembered one of my favorite birthday memories. Justin and I had been dating for about a year, and we were at the house on a Sunday. You had baked a cake in the shape of heart because you said I was your valentine. Before you brought it out, you said, “The cake is a bit big.” It was, in fact, the biggest cake I’d ever seen. It was so big you could barely carry it. Justin said he wondered how you got it to fit in the oven. I remember laughing so hard because it was so ridiculous. We all laughed because there were six of us sitting at the table staring at this huge cake with no hope of eating even an eighth of it. 

Amazing.

I love you,

Your Number One