wee bittles
kiddoes
teens
Today I baked a cake. Why? Because I was simply in the mood for cake and so I made it. Then it occurred to me that I was not baking it for my sister Debby’s 44th birthday, which is, or would have been, tomorrow. Believe it or not, I am happy about this. Obviously I am not happy that I am not baking her a cake like I had done for so many of her birthdays and her daughter’s birthdays. She would ALWAYS gush on how GOOD they were… which always made me laugh because I ALWAYS made them from THE BOX… nothing special, I just followed the directions (somewhat followed because I am pathetic at following directions,) and stuck it in the oven.
Let me back up a bit. My big sister passed away May 18th, 2009, just shy of her 42th birthday. Leukemia… although what killed her was Sepsis, a blood infection that people with lowered immune systems often get. She was first diagnosed two days after my 36th birthday in Oct. 2005… AND SURVIVED! But then after a few short years… a few more years with her young daughter, Z., she relapsed. A week before Thanksgiving 2008, she somehow, being incredible sick, drove herself to MD Anderson, checked in, and after they ran test… she never checked out. For 6 months, she lived in hospitals. 5 of those months, she was in the ICU. As a single mom, she had no husband to take care of her. Our mother looked after her daughter, and wasn’t around. The responsibility of making sure she was taken care of fell squarely on the shoulders of our eldest sister, Stephanie and me. Debby was always sandwiched between us, older and younger sisters. Steph would visit her during the day, and I would show up at night until after midnight. I would try to wait until she was asleep, otherwise she would beg me not to leave her alone… and leaving her like that would break my heart.
It was a rough and awful time in our lives that moved painfully slow, but now looking back, it barely seems like a blur.
For a long time afterwards it seemed like I couldn’t move past her death. I couldn’t have a conversation with someone without mentioning something completely awkward and inappropriate that immediately would make the person who I was speaking to completely ill at ease. So I withdrew from my friends and most of my volunteer commitments. I’m not sure if anyone, but me noticed my absence. If they did, they didn’t call or stop by to see if I was okay. I hid in isolation connected via the internet.
I became depressed and refused to acknowledge that I was… that was until one day, I overheard my two young daughters playing and one said to the other, “Mommy can’t do that because I am TOO tired.” How many times had they heard that from me, that I couldn’t do things… “normal mom” things… because I was too tired?
It was then that I found a photography workshop, 2000 miles away, that I could take my kids to… I would be forced to leave the house. I would be forced to talk with real live people. I would be forced to do something with my kids. Truly, as dark as my life was back then, after my sister’s death, I really needed a force to moved me from my place of painful isolation, loneliness, and inner turmoil.
It worked. Not to say I was completely happy, I wasn’t. The workshop was a bust. The photographer who lead it, while being an awesome photographer herself, was a less than awesome teacher. However, that experience fuel something in me… I wanted something more than to be a mourner of my sister… I wanted to be a photographer, so much so I was willing to spend every dime of my personal savings, drive my three children across the United States by myself, and learn to hone my craft.
And it was a wonderful distraction while my heart healed (… it’s still healing. I am a work in process … as probably we all are.) Being a family photographer means that I am invited to share the most wondering moments in people’s lives. I see children smile and sometime cry; the twinkle in a couples eyes when they gaze at each other; a mom’s pride when stealing a peek at her High School Senior, a rare luxury as most senior are so busy they are never around; the stress of a family, followed with the relief when they are all finally dressed, ready and posed for a shoot… it’s life and I have the honor of being part of it.
Today I baked a cake for the mere enjoyment of eating cake… nothing to celebrate. Yet it marks a milestone, I am back in the land of the living doing a “normal mom” thing. Life is for the living. One day I will be with my sister again, and on that day I expect a BIG HUG from her and even a BIGGER LAUGH that will resonate so loudly that even my children back on Earth will hear it. (For those who know me, I am loud and when I am super happy, I laugh even louder, AND when I would get with my sister, Debby, we would laugh the LOUDEST.)
I am happy today. The cake was good and it was ugly too. The picture of this cake will never compete with anything you see in the pages of Home and Garden or Martha Stewart’s Living Magazine. I didn’t exactly follow all of the instructions just right. (FYI… I forgot to add water and then was wondering why it was so thick. I had to dump it back into the mixing bowl and remix.) Even so, despite all of it’s imperfections, and my own, I was a hero for my children… how great is it to have mom make a cake for no good reason? AND I was the hero for myself because I am getting on… AND did I mention the cake was GOOD, just like my sister always told me it was?
I am learning to live life, to move on in my journey embracing it’s shortcomings and my own. There is a peace about acceptance… and a peace in eating ugly cake. Have a bite!
Some dance like no one is watching. I dance when no one is watching and pretend that they are., a photo by whidbychick on Flickr.
Have you ever just got to a point in your life where you are running running running and then you forgot why you started running in the first place and where you were running too?
A while ago, I found myself in that spot too.
However as of late, I have slowed down and reevaluated my life.
And so far, by slowing down a bit, putting my blinders on, and listening to that interior voice that is calling me to just BE, I have found myself finding my happy spot again.
BE STILL.
Be still. Listen to your heart. Listen to your God. Rest in Him.
My new set of goals:
- Rest in Him
- Spend time with my loved ones
- Get my house in order
- Unplug
- (And as random as this seems compared to the rest of this post…) try to not get my meals through a drive through windows.