Nectar of Life

2011 was a roller coaster of year with amazing highs and depressing lows. It all began with my four month adventure around the world with one of my best friends followed by a month long vacation with my boyfriend. This adventure had been almost a year in the making, and after quitting my job in January I was off to experience the world. During my travels however,  unbeknownst  to me for the most part, my mom was fighting her battle against cancer for fourth time since she had originally been diagnosed six years ago. Looking back at those months now after my mother's passing, I of course wish I had been able to be there with her, helping her with her fight. It's hard not to think that maybe if I had been there with her, things would have gone differently. I know that if I had decided to stay and not go on my travels, Carmen would have been upset and disappointed in me for passing up such an amazing once in a lifetime experience, especially since...

I remember us a year ago, sitting around our table after spending hours in the kitchen cooking up a feast. We sat there holding hands, giving thanks for a year of health and love. This year was different. You weren't there with your bright smile and twinkling eyes to tell us through your thick Spanish accent what you were thankful for this year. Though you weren't there, I knew you were there looking over us, your family, being thankful for our health and love.  Of course we all missed you, I know you would have had a blast at Thanksgiving this year with Tom's family, but I still feel like you were there with us. Though you aren't around to read this, I just wanted to let you know what I am thankful for. I am thankful for you, and all the years that I was able to spend with you. I am thankful that there is so much of you that I see in myself. I am thankful for everything you have taught me, and how you have shaped who I have and will become. I am thankful for your ...

Today was hard--living through the pain of good bye all over again. This time it was so much more real. When it first happened, it was all so sudden, all so surreal. She had been dead just over a day or so. All of my emotions then were suppressed by this layer of shock. Today, everything was all too real. Everything that happened had settled over time and her absence had become all too apparent. I walked into this familiar church, a church that I had know as a child from my summers in Spain--the last time I had been there was for my first communion. I was surrounded by my extended family, many strangers who had grown up with my mother, and our close Dutch friends, Rob and Dory, who had moved back to the Netherlands. As I sat there next to my dad, brother and mom's sister, I felt the reality of her death, her complete absence. It was a beautiful ceremony, my dad gave a very touching speech about their story. This time I could not push back the tears that came trickling out. Much lik...

What if Carmen had done her CT scan in December/ January instead of February? What if she had had surgery then instead of doing a trial chemo treatment? What if she had done these things and was still alive because of it? (then I would not be here in her home town saying good bye to her again) I hate these what ifs. I hate that they spin around in my head at these times, when there is nothing left that I can do about it. I guess I feel partially responsible for everything that happened. What if I hadn't been so worried about traveling around the world this past winter, that I had been able to help convince my mother to go do her CT scan earlier? What if I had been around when she made the decision to start the trial chemo treatment? What if I hadn't spent that last few months of my mother's life thousands of miles away from her? What if I had spent more time with her all these years? What if I hadn't taken her for granted? What if we hadn't assumed that it was the...

It has been about 2 months since I last saw my mother. All things considered, I am doing fine, however there are times that the sadness of my loss floods my heart through teardrops streaming from my eyes. The pain is still very real, the loss still surreal. I sometimes forget that she is actually gone, that she isn't back home with my dad and brother, that her spirit is actually somewhere watching over us. The memories, photos and notes can't replace her, they can't even come close to even capturing her essence. But still, I seek them for comfort for they are as close as I can get to her right now. She has visited me in a few of my dreams, in each one radiantly beautiful, the charming brightly spirited Carmen she always was. In my dreams she is healed as if her cancer had never existed. I like to think that it is actually her in my dreams, her soul coming to visit me letting me know that she is alright, that she is finally healed and blissfully happy, like she said she wo...

In life there is death; in death there is life. These past few weeks have kept me extremely busy as I prepared for my big cross-country move and kept my mind off of things. I am finally getting settled into my new home and slowly realizing the reality of everything that has happened. I have been pretty strong throughout most of this process, because I am my mother's daughter and because of the wonderful support group I have-- my amazing friends, my supportive family, my rock of a boyfriend and all the other wonderful people that have extended kind words to me and my family. I could not thank all of you enough. But in this calm after the storm, I can't help but feel my heart ache from her absence. Perhaps this feeling is heightened by the fact that I am thousands of miles away from everyone I know and love (Tom is back in the DMV for a wedding, so I am alone here in LA) or maybe it is all just starting to actually hit me. I miss being able to talk to her. I really want to he...

Tuesday August 9, 2011 Daniel, Tom and I spent most of the day cleaning the house up and waiting for Carmen's hospice gear to arrive. Late that night she came home in an ambulance from Hopkins. She was extremely tired, but still mentally there and able to talk though it was through quite whispers.  We set her up in the living room so that she could be in the midst of all the action downstairs. She had made the brave decision to enjoy the rest of her time here at home with her family. Though she was in pain, she was happy to finally be resting at home. Jose slept beside her on the sofa, attending to her throughout the night. I was surprised that her condition had deteriorated since we last saw her on Sunday night-- that night she had walked around, sat at upright at a table to have dinner, fed herself easily, willingly ate, and was a bit chatty, but not extremely chatty for Carmen standards. By Tuesday night, it seemed her ability to move was limited, and she was subdued by the pa...