On a daily basis, I think of her. Sometimes it’s as if she hasn’t been gone for the past 7 months and my mind defaults to my 35-year-long habit – that she’s always there for me, just a phone call away. It’s always the same thing, something exciting will happen in my life or Lucas will do something brilliant and I go to pick up the phone only to remember, ‘oh … yeah‘. I have no idea how long this odd phenomenon will continue, my mind forgetting that she’s not here anymore.

Mother’s Day is fast approaching and it will be my first one without her. It kind of takes your breath away to even say it, if only for the fact that things feel drastically different now. How odd it feels to not be making plans to do something nice for her, to go out and buy her a gift or make her a card. I suppose this is where one would expect me to be sad, I’m supposed to miss her and cry and feel left out of the whole Mother’s Day ritual and goings-on (despite this day being about ME too, of course!). But surprisingly enough, I don’t. Something new has come about, something I didn’t expect.

I think often about her life, as my Mother, and I make comparisons to myself. I find myself thinking about all the things she did when my brother and I were growing up, things that made our childhood so rich and memorable. Everything from specific things she used to bake or make for dinner to the efforts she made to become friends with the other Mom’s at my school, arranging playdates and forging what would later become lifelong family friendships. And it is now – just finally now – in her death and remembrance on Mother’s Day, that I realize just how much I want to be like her. My memories of her have become my ‘Handbook to Being the Mother You Always Dreamed Of’.  (Oh Mom, if you’re out there, I really hope you can read this blog. I know how shocked you would be to read this confession).

So this Mother’s Day, and every single one of them to come in the future, I will think of her and all that she offered as a role model over the 35 years of our life together. You see, she may no longer be here in front of my eyes or on the other end of the phone, but she is still here in my mind.

I am not sad this Mother’s Day. I am grateful.

I would love to hear from those of you who are also celebrating Mother’s Day this year without your Mom. How does this special day make you feel? What do you do to celebrate your Mom on Mother’s Day?

… you should freaking answer the door.  Seriously!

I have basically been MIA from the KIV Mommy Blog for an unexpected while (sorry!), but that’s about to change.  You see, an opportunity has knocked at my door and, not only did I answer it, but I let it lift me up and carry me over the threshold.  It felt good.  I can’t help but write about all of this as my creative energy is flowing freely now. 

I was given an opportunity to take a full year off work.  As a single mom, that is huger than huge.  More amazing than anything I could possibly think of.  To take a breather, to get things done, to focus on myself and my son.  And I owe this all to my Mom.  Like a final gift that will keep on giving for many years to come.  This year will change our life forever, you see.  I have a chance to make our life better, to erase some regrets and to pause and inhale my surroundings.  I cannot believe this dream is finally coming true.

I hadn’t planned on taking advantage this opportunity for a few more months, and yet something inside of me took over at the wheel yesterday morning.   Numb, I sat down and wrote a letter to my business partners and shared with them that I needed to follow my heart, that time was of the essence, and that I needed to do it now.  The words flowed freely, and I knew it had to be sent right away without pause.  I clicked send … and waited … blood rushing through my veins.   What was going to happen next, I pondered.

And like a beautiful angel descending in my inbox, last night I received their blessing.   A gift within a gift.

I have an idea of where this year will take us.  I know it will change us forever.  I have so many dreams that will take shape over the course of this year and I am feeling incredibly exhilarated just imagining it.

There is something about the Gift of Time that speaks to me so softly, deeply.  This opportunity is meant for me and I will make the most of it.

I’m barely ankle-deep into an online class I signed up for on a whim earlier this month, but already I can feel the wheels turning in this rusty old brain ‘o mine.  As I type this, I may have even made the decision to do something pretty freaking drastic, that may or may not have the people in my life thinking I’ve lost my mind.   After all, stepping outside the box of the norm is crazy, right?

The women teaching this class have awoken a place in my heart that knows that, deep down, anything is possible.  anything *is* possible. repeat. after. me.

Today when I logged into the online class, I read: 

There is an unseen life that dreams us; it knows our true direction and destiny.  We can trust ourselves more than we realize, and we need have no fear of change. 

It was a quote from John O’Donohue and it had been rebirthed into a beautiful piece of watercolour art by one of the women guiding the class.  It was perfect in its timing today, answering a question that had been rolling around in my mind all day.

What if you could take away the voices inside your head that kept holding you back from what you really want?  What if those voices fell silent and the ones offering you empowerment to do what you truly desire were the only ones left in existence?  What if our fears actually weren’t OUR fears?  What if they were created by those before us, and we adopted them as our own along the way?  Hmmm.  This is what I’ve been pondering quite thoroughly today.

I feel like I’ve discovered the magic key to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.  Only it came in the form of an online class all about dreaming big dreams.  It’s amazing what can happen when you surround yourself with other like-minded people who speak the same language of anything is possible. 

Because, perhaps, it is.

2009 was, in more ways than one, a very defining year for me.  Of course it would be easy to look at the loss of my Mother in late September as the single most life-changing definitive moment of the year, BUT in retrospect, I spent the majority of this last year figuring out exactly who I am now.  I gave definition to my self, my life, what I want, what’s important to me, where I stand.  It feels good.  If I could take one teeny-tiny word to describe my 2009, it would be define.  Kinda has a nice ring to it, don’t it?

I have to admit, I was inspired by this one little word idea from a favourite blogger of mine – Aby Garvey of Simplify 101 fame.  And she got the idea from Ali Edwards.  So now I’m passing this on to you.

I just felt in love with the idea that you can create such a transformative focal point in your life from just one. little. word.  Just one.  Isn’t it grand?  And hard!  Or maybe not.  To come up with that one little word that you use each day to inspire your personal lifestyle goal for the year … sometimes it’s just plain obvious, or on the flipside … forces you to sit down and do some serious thinking.  But that’s a good thing!

Now … that’s my one little word for 2010.  Now.  Not later, not tomorrow, not next week, not next year, nor in another lifetime … Now.  This entire year is revolving around the old adage, ‘Don’t put off until tomorrow, what you can do today’.  It might take me all year to perfect this, but it’s a focal point and reminder nonetheless.   Now also speaks to my desire to live life as fully and wonderfully as possible.  To be in the here and now.  To cherish and find joy in these small quiet moments, and to be fully present in the now.

If this idea resonates with you too, what’s your ‘one little word’ for 2010?  And what does it mean to you?

She opened the cupboard to pull out a puzzle for Lucas, and I saw through the shear number of activities stored there, that she loves being a Grandma.  My mind then flashes back to a moment where she found me hiding in that closet over 20 years ago.  Her daughter had invited me over afterschool but then remembered she wasn’t allowed to have friends over that day.  She quickly hid me in the closet before confessing to her Mom that I was in it.  I cannot even begin to describe how hilarious and embarrassing that was.  There is a lot of history in that house. 

We chat over a glass of wine, about Lucas, about my Mom, about everything that’s happened over the past couple of months.  I feel instant comfort and familiarity and my heart aches that I’m no longer the little girl who used to come over for playdates with her daughters 30 years previous.  She is so welcoming and caring and I will-back the tears that well up behind my eyes. 

Her daughters, my longtime friends, eventually arrive and they feel like my long-lost sisters.  We all, soon, sit to have dinner, conversation flows easily, and I marvel at how perfect the meal is.  Lucas, of course, gets antsy and wants to be excused from the table.  “It’s okay”, they understand.  I sit directly across from my dear friend, her eldest daughter, and we talk about things and I feel like we are instantly close again.  She is such a great person and I regret not having made more effort over the years.  Friends like that don’t come along often.  I make a silent promise to myself that this will be a new beginning for us.

As the evening winds down, her daughters are both getting ready to head out the door with their children.  We all say our goodbyes and I turn to thank our host.  

“Let’s do this again soon, okay?” she says.  We hug and I know that she means it. 

 “I would really like that”, I reply.

 And I mean it too.

Drawer after drawer we sorted and packed away a lifetime of belongings. 

I found hidden memories, long forgotten, yet lovingly packed away for a rainy day.  It was quite evident how much she valued our little lives.  Every award, every birthday card, every baby tooth, even a lock of hair – it was all there in boxes waiting for me.  My heart felt heavy, but warm with glow.

Perhaps I could have asked friends to help with it all, but being given this opportunity to be alone with my thoughts and her things, was so important to me.  I now understand that a lot of healing comes along with this process.  And much has occurred.

I opened the bottom drawer of an antique-white wardrobe, it was bursting with gifts.  My Mom liked to have things on hand just in case, so when she saw things she liked as the seasons rolled-by, into the collection they would go.  I dug through the drawer until I found a stack of three red, white and green tea towels embellished with whimsical embroidery.  They were gorgeous and I was instantly drawn to them.  I knew right then and there that she had picked these out for me.  We had often discussed how much I love to entertain and she had said she would keep an eye out for festive treasures to help me celebrate each holiday season.  I held the towels in my lap and could not wait to use them.

*********** 

In another box of things my brother had already packed I found a round tin that I recognized as one that used to sit atop our fridge when we were kids.  At Christmastime each year, it would be full of shortbread cookies shaped like bells and stars.  I opened the tin to find the very cookie cutters that my Mom had used each year since we were little.

Over the last few years, my Mom made sure that she continued to make these shortbread cookies for my brother.  It was tradition and it was something that he wasn’t yet ready to let go of.  Christmas just wasn’t Christmas without them.

So I tucked the tin of cookie cutters into the back of my car and vowed that my brother would not go without this year simply due to the circumstances.  If she could send these from ‘heaven’, I’m sure she would.  Instead, I will make them.

***********

The closet in her bedroom was large and full; clothing, shoes, bedding and old keepsakes.  There was even a small section dedicated to storing several unopened toys – they were for Lucas, but I could tell they were things she had found for when he was older.  I contemplated giving away these things, but she bought them for him, and I needed to fulfill their purpose.

If she was here for Christmas this year, I know at least one of those toys would be wrapped under the tree for him.  And so it will be.

Hot plumes of steam dance across my face, my tastebuds bursting with lemon, pharmaceutical, and comfort. I’m an advocate for the all-natural but sometimes, godammit, I just want to escape into the instantaneous bliss that symptom-masking chemicals provide. I’ve been sick for 24 hours now, some kind of cold. Physically I’ve slowed down a bit, mentally, not so much.

I’ve been thinking all day about my future and what I’d like to see happen in 2010. Since the loss of my Mom in late September, so much has changed. So much. I’ve lived my entire lifetime with her by my side, her ear always there to listen, her hand outreached to help, just her physical presence there to comfort. She isn’t there anymore … and so I am learning a new way of living. We are doing okay, well, in fact. But there has been an underlying theme playing out in my dreams lately. It’s as though a seed has been planted and further change is imminent. I can strongly feel this at my core.

I’ve been a single mom for two very full years now, and while my son’s father is still very much involved in our daily lives, as both a best friend to me and a fantastic Dad to our son, there is still this intriguing feeling that perhaps I might be in the very beginning stages of wanting to explore the potential of a new mate. I haven’t dated at all. In fact I made the distinct choice two years ago to focus solely on my son and myself as a Mother and I do not regret the decision for a second. Not having another person in the picture (or even on the outskirts of the picture) has made things much easier for us all. We spend time together as a ‘family’, have even gone on vacation together, all the while having no desire for reconciliation. The thought of messing with the status quo … I just don’t know. And the very thought of how I might even navigate such uncharted territory is overwhelming. But I’m willing to explore this.

I named this blog, ‘Stepping Outside’, as this next year will surely be one of stepping outside of my comfort zone.

Hot tears streaked down the sides of my cheeks, as I read the card:

“You peeking through the living room blinds on Millstone to watch Jeannie Poirier kiss her boyfriend goodbye.”

“Whenever we played outside after supper, we had to go home when the street lights came on.”

“Richard Laurison always bullied us.  One day as we walked up his road, he came up to punch you and I gave him 2 black eyes … he never bullied us again.”

She had a childhood, years and years of memories, and it was so foreign to me.  I was sad that I was finding out about all these things for the first time, and that she wasn’t there with me as I came to realize this.  I sat alone in her cold house and clenched the card, reading every entry, one by one.  I was so eager to learn as much as I could.

“Mom always cooked a wonderful big dinner with dessert on Sundays.”

“Finding nuts, a japanese orange and a candy cane in our stockings and always a comic too.”

“Mom telling us stories when we were sick and we always wanted to hear ‘Babes in the Woods’ and cry.”

I never knew my Grandmother as she had passed away before I was born.  My Mom raised my brother and I without her, and I am just now understanding the magnitude of what that must have been like.  I see now how strong she was and how she continued on, keeping the essence of her Mother alive in the meals she made, the traditions she carried and in the nurturing and love she made certain we felt.

I will be doing the same now that my Mom is no longer here.

To have even just this tiny peek into what her childhood was like, not only brought on tears, but a strong sense of connection to where I’ve come from.  I knew right then and there that the path I was on in my own life, creating special memories like these for my son, would have so much more meaning now than ever.

I tucked the card that my Aunt had written to my Mom back into the box along with all the others and wiped the tears from my face.

This is the beginning of a new chapter.