Life is short.

Ever since my mother passed I find myself questioning my life.

There's a realisation that life is short.. too short.. and it can end unexpectedly at any moment.

Life is so often lived as though there is an infinite amount of time.  Life ending is unimaginable.

But then we are faced with mortality.

And with the significant loss I have just experienced, I also have the realisation that now I have opportunity via the inheritance I will come into.  And with it some freedom to make changes.

Of course given the choice I would give it all up in a flash to have my mother back.  I would give it up and more - my house, my money, everything I own.

But I can't.  And my mother worked hard for what she had.  And I don't want to waste it.

So I could use it to change careers.  To renovate.  Towards paying our loan.  To buy a new house.  To holiday.  To invest.  To have another child.  A combination of the above.

Right now I don't know what to do.  But I am entertaining the possibilities life suddenly has to offer.

Life is too short.  And I want to spend my days as fulfilled and happy as I can be.

I'm just not sure how to work out what will be fulfilling and happy for me.  But I haven't been enjoying my job for a while now.  Even before my mother passed.  And that is one area I want to work on.  But do I stay in my current career and try somewhere else?  Or change careers altogether?  Or become a stay at home mother again? 

I used to spend too much time worrying about how my decisions affect others.  But I need to start thinking about what I want and stop worrying about others.  I can't make everyone happy.  The only people I need to think about are myself, Greg and Maya.  And how we can make the most of our time together, so that it is as fulfilling and happy as it can be with the life we have.

If only.

Maya keeps asking to go visit Nana.  And it breaks my heart every time.  Because I really wish we could go visit her Nana.

I would do almost anything to have my mother back.  To have it so that she didn't die.  So that I could talk to her again.  Say all the things I wished I'd said.  So I could hug her.  And watch her play with Maya again.

I still can't believe a year ago my mother was coming round to visit.  She was picking Maya up from child care.  We had coffees.  Went shopping.  Went to the park.  Talked.  Laughed.  Hugged.  She was well, happy and alive.

At least we thought she was well.

And now she's dead.  Gone.  Never coming back.

Maya doesn't understand that her Nana has gone and that she will never be able to see her or speak to her again.  She's too young to understand the concept.  She loved (loves) her Nana dearly and wants to see her.  She probably doesn't understand why we don't take her to see her Nana.

But while it upsets me that we can't go visit her Nana.  I am glad that she wants to visit her.  That she remembers her.  I want Maya to remember her Nana and I am afraid she will forget her in time.

I need to get some pictures printed of Maya with her Nana.  So that she will continue to see her grandmother on a daily basis and hopefully continue to remember her from her own memory.

First time Mum saw Maya - October 2008
Maya sleeping in her Nana's arms - November 2008
Cuddles and kisses - April 2009
Playing with and feeding Maya - August 2009
Maya's first birthday party - October 2009. Mum never made it to Maya's second birthday party in October 2010 because she was in hospital at the time.
These are my favourite pictures because Mum and Maya were sharing a special time together that I was able to witness and capture - December 2009
I returned to work in January 2010 and didn't take any photos of the two of them till August 2010 due to less time, which of course I now regret. These two pictures are the last pictures I have of mum and Maya taken in August 2010. Mum was in a lot of pain and had her cancer diagnosis and we were waiting for her operation, which we thought would rid her of it. I never thought to take photos of the two of them after this time. Until the last few days I had no idea my mother would not recover. Until then we had a future in which to take photos.  R.I.P. Mum.

Coping.

It seems somehow that observers base their ability to judge your well-being on how they feel about what you are doing.  For example, if you are very distressed and crying, you will be described as not coping very well, but if you don't show your feelings, or at least if you don't show too many of them and the observers don't feel uncomfortable about what you are doing, they will describe you as coping well.  [From Coping With Grief by Mal & Dianne McKissock]

A lot of people tell me that I am "doing so well" or that I am "so strong" or that I am "coping really well".  And it annoys me.  Because it dismisses what I am feeling.  It makes me feel like I am expected to "cope well".  It leaves me wondering if I can express my grief and feelings.  And my outside behaviour does not always represent my inside feelings.

In fact I would love to crawl into bed for a couple of weeks.  But having my daughter means that I do not have the luxury to do that.  I have to get up, get myself sorted and be there for my daughter (as much as I can be there for her given the overwhelming grief I am experiencing).  And while some think the way to deal with grief is to get on with life as soon as possible, this method does not suit everyone. 

I need time to process, to grieve, to be me without judgement, to cry, to get angry, to yell, to scream, to be without responsibility (as much as possible given I have my daughter).  There is nothing wrong with my way of dealing with grief.  It's just my way.  So in order to get the time I need I have had to take leave from work for a few weeks.  Maya still goes to child care and it gives me three days a week to do all the things I need to do to grieve.

You are the only one who can feel what you feel; you are the only one who can determine how to express what you feel.  Others affected by the bereavement have their own feelings and their way of expressing them, but if you feel like going to bed for a couple of days - do it!  If you want to yell, scream, cry, curse - do it!  If you want to withdraw and have time to yourself - do so! [From Coping With Grief by Mal & Dianne McKissock]

So I'm not particularly strong and I'm not coping "really well".  I'm just doing what I need to do to get through this extremely difficult time.  Some may see me as coping, others may see me as not coping.  But it is what it is and I can't change my way of dealing with things.

Grief.

I am finding it difficult to see or talk to friends at the moment.  None of my friends have ever lost a parent and therefore cannot understand what I am going through.  It is also difficult to hear about their lives when I feel like the whole world should have stopped the day my mum died.  Why isn't the whole world mourning as I am?  And it's difficult to hear about my friend's problems, which compared to mine now seem so trivial.  Though I know one day I too will be concerned about day to day things again, as the grief wears off and normalcy sets in.

In our culture we are given three days bereavement leave, which is no where near enough for such an enormous loss.  It creates an expectation that grief should be over and done with within a relatively short time.  But after an enormous loss grief stays with you forever and creeps up at different times in your life.  When I graduated, got married and was pregnant with Maya I grieved the loss of my father.

According to 'Coping With Grief' by Mal McKissock and Dianne McKissock (which I highly recommend reading):

In the beginning, pain seems to be a constant, overwhelming companion until gradually, you become familiar with its intensity, and therefore less fearful.  The time spent in between 'peaks' becomes shorter, giving you necessary periods of relief.  Initially, relief may be short-lived, perhaps just minutes of respite gradually stretching into hours, days, weeks.  You may never 'get over' the death but you will learn to live with the absence of the person you love.

Friends are asking me what they can do to help and really there is nothing they can do, except be there when I am ready to see them again.  The problem is I don't know how many people can 'handle' my grief.  It seems in our culture it's not really acceptable to show strong feelings.  People don't like to see other people crying because they feel like that person is hurting and they want to fix the hurt.  It even starts with parents trying anything and everything to stop their baby from crying, when in reality crying is a natural, normal way for babies to express themselves.  From a young age we teach children that it is not OK to cry by trying to stop them from crying.  But crying is a natural, normal way to heal hurt.  I'm not saying that you can't comfort someone who is crying and be there for them.  In fact it's important to be there with them and to comfort them and to let them know that it is OK to cry.  If you think back to when you cried last, didn't you feel better afterwards?  That is the point of crying.  But when someone is trying to stop you from this process it makes it harder to proceed and therefore harder to heal.

According to 'Coping With Grief' by Mal McKissock and Dianne McKissock:

In our society people get upset if you demonstrate strong reactions to pain.  For example, if you cry openly in reaction to an event, even bereavement, after a short period of tolerance, those around you will begin to placate your feelings - they will say things like, 'Buck up, think of the kids, every cloud has a silver lining.'  All of these platitudes and clichés, though not malicious are designed to prevent you from expressing your feelings.  There is a very genuine belief that getting upset is bad for you.

In this day and age, in our society, it is rare to have lost both parents at my age.  And while I don't wish this upon anyone, I can't help feel jealous now of people who still have both parents or even one.

Quite a few of my friends had children far from their parents and families.  But I chose to remain near mine.  Whereas they always have the choice to move back to their families, now I will never know that support again.

R.I.P. Mum.

In August my mother was diagnosed with bladder cancer and we were told that the success rate for that particular cancer was very high.  In October we were told that the cancer was bigger than expected and my mother had her bladder removed.  In December my mother was recovering very well and then had a bowel obstruction, which had to be removed and turned out to be cancer.  Last Thursday we were told that my mother's cancer had spread to her lymph nodes, liver, lungs and throughout other parts of her body and she had only months to live.  On Monday we were told that the cancer was also around her kidneys, that she was going into kidney failure and only had a couple of weeks at most to live.  And on Wednesday (16th February) she passed away.

It all seems so surreal right now.  It all happened so quickly.  And while I did get to talk to my mother in her final days she was mostly sleeping or delirious and so I am left feeling like there is still so much to say. 

I am glad that I could be there with her in her final days and hours.  But to see someone you love so dearly suffering so much is hard on the soul.  I've also seen so many things I wish I could erase my from memory.  No one should have to go through so much suffering.

I miss my mum so much and I don't know how my life can go on without her.  She was too young to die and she didn't want to go.  Life can be so cruel.

Mum I love you so much.  You were the best mother I could have ever hoped for.  I will miss you every single day for the rest of my life.  But you are no longer in pain and for that I am grateful.  I hope you are finally at peace and there is an endless library where you are now.  You are forever in my heart.

Last photo of mum (with Maya) before mum got too sick (taken in August 2010):

Smokers outside the hospital door.

Every time I visit my mother I walk past an array of people smoking on my way to the hospital entrance.  Some of them are patients - wearing hospital gowns and drips attached.  Some of them are visitors.  Some of them are staff.  And it just always seems so ridiculous to see all these people smoking outside the hospital doors - killing themselves slowly with every breath right outside a place that saves lives.

Every time I walk past these people smoking I feel like screaming at them and telling them that they are all idiots.  They are throwing their health away and for what?  When faced with death will they look back and be glad they smoked?  Or will they, as my mother now is, be rapt in guilt and blame themselves for their impending death.

If these people could see my mother I wonder if they would give up.  If they could see just what she has become and what she has gone through and what is still yet to be.  To give up your life, your dignity, your sense of being, your future.  All for cigarettes.  Is it really worth it?

A few months is not enough.

Today I received news I have anticipated but have been dreading.  My mother is now terminally ill.  Whilst most bladder cancers grow slowly and are easy to remove, hers is aggressive and has spread throughout her body.  They can no longer treat her.  She has a few months left to live.

Right now I feel like nothing is real any more.  And I wish someone would wake me up from this nightmare.

I remember how devastating it was to lose my father.  And now I have to go through it again with my mother.  And both of them will have died so young.

I can't believe that soon I will be parent less.  That the only support on my side of the family will soon be gone.  That my mother will never get to see Maya grow and develop.  That I will lose my mother and my friend.  That I won't be able to talk to her.  See her.  Hug her.

I wish I could get away from this pain.  From this grief.  I remember thinking I would never recover from the pain of losing my father.  Of course I did.  But for a while there the pain was unbearable.  And I am headed there again.

Suddenly so many things seem so unimportant. 

The little things don't matter.

Only health matters.

And I would do anything, give anything, say anything to cure my mother right now.

Party gifts.

When Maya was three months old we took her to a children's birthday party.  Back then she wasn't even on solids but upon leaving she was presented with a lolly bag.

Last year I took Maya to a first birthday party where the birthday girl was not allowed to eat any cake, lollies or chocolate.  But upon leaving Maya was given a lolly bag.

We then went to a third birthday party where the birthday boy was on a strict, organic only diet - no dairy, no wheat and definitely no lollies or chocolate.  But when leaving Maya was given a lolly bag.

I have no problem with Maya eating lollies but they are a special occasion food not something we keep at home or want to bring home.  By giving us lolly bags (that I can't refuse because once Maya has seen it she wants it) means we then end up bringing lollies home to eat.  And honestly Maya would be happy with anything you gave her anyway.  Why not apples?  Or mandarins?  Why lollies?

And why do people feel obliged to give children a 'present' of lollies anyway?  I remember growing up I did receive lolly bags from some parties but it's not like that's the only reason I was there.  I enjoyed the party, the food and the atmosphere and the lolly bags weren't important to me.

And when you as the parent are providing a venue, food and other party items, why are you then obliged to give every child a 'present'?  Aren't you already providing enough with the party alone?

It reminds me of weddings too where the bride and groom provide their guests with gifts.  Does anyone go to a wedding expecting and wanting gifts?  I certainly don't.  I go to weddings to celebrate the bride and groom getting married.  Why do people feel obliged to give gifts when they are already paying for each guest to attend their wedding?

And honestly the gifts are generally something the bride and groom have tried to spend minimal money on.  Usually cheap chocolate or some cheap ornament with the bride and grooms names engraved on it.  Does anyone actually want or enjoy these gifts?

Providing me with a venue, time, space, other people, food and drinks (and not having to do anything other than turn up) is enough of a 'gift' for me.

Maya and Cleo.

Towards the end of my pregnancy with Maya I began to worry about how Cleo (our cat) would react to the new addition to our family.  Cleo can be highly affectionate towards Greg and I, but at times she turns into a clawing, biting, scary animal.  It worried me to think what she might do to a small baby.

When we brought Maya home for the first time I held her near Cleo for Cleo to suss her out.  And Cleo ran and hid.  She was petrified of the little being.  I thought Cleo's fear of Maya would leave as she got used to the new addition to our family, but it has remained to this day.

As Maya became more aware of Cleo she would delight in seeing her.  Cleo has been a godsend at times.  When Maya is upset or throwing a tantrum I can take her to see Cleo and she cheers up.

Maya would dearly love to be able to play with Cleo but Cleo avoids Maya.  And for good reason really.  Once Maya found her feet she also found Cleo's tail.  I honestly have no idea why Cleo has not attacked Maya (yet?).  Maya will pull her tail, pull her fur, hit her, poke her, chase her....  And Cleo does not (yet?) lay a paw on Maya.

Greg and I still get bitten and scratched sometimes by Cleo.  Yet Maya's treatment of Cleo has not been met with any retaliation.  It's as though Cleo knows not to attack this small human creature.

I am so grateful that Cleo has not hurt Maya and I hope Cleo continues not to hurt her.  Of course I am trying to teach Maya not to hurt Cleo either and I hope she will get the idea soon and stop tormenting the poor cat.

I think Maya sees Cleo as a toy who should do exactly what Maya wants and commands.  Sometimes Maya gets extremely upset when she wants to cuddle or pat or play with Cleo and Cleo runs away.  But of course Cleo has her own will.  I am not sure when Maya will realise that other people and animals have their own wills, wants and needs.

Mummy!

This is a conversation I regularly have with Maya at the moment (if you can call it a conversation):

Maya: "Mummy!"
Me: "Yes?"
"Mummy!"
"Yes?"
"Mummy!"
"Yes?"
"Mummy!"
"What?"
"Mummy!"
"What?!?!?!"
"Mummy!"
*sigh*