Healing...and Heeling.

My mother's birthday was Tuesday, April 5.  I had a terrible day, but after school, I went to buy two pink latex balloons.  I brought them home, used a Sharpie to write messages on them and released them.  I sent my love and messages to heaven--and I'd like to believe that my mom got the messages.

One of my friends posted a meme on Facebook that reads, "When a mother dies, a daughter's mourning never completely ends."  I think that's true.  My brothers miss my mom, too, but not like I do.  My mom and I were close.  I called her every day.  I spent every school vacation with her.  We went out to lunch and shopped and did things together that my brothers didn't and wouldn't. Our relationship was SPECIAL.

But we had almost three months to say the things we needed to say.  Many people don't get that.  At one point during her last week, she said to me, "Everyone should have a daughter."  That was without a doubt the best thing she could have said to me.  And it gives me comfort to remember that.  So things are a little better...one day at a time. Hell...one moment at a time.  I never know when grief is going to slap me in the face.  It lurks in closets and in dark corners, and I never know when it's going to rear its ugly head...but I'm trying.  One breath at a time.

So...onward.  The other "heeling" in the title refers to my footwear!  Yes.  I'm wearing heels!  Well, a wedge heel, but a heel nevertheless!  When I was large, tottering around on high shoes just wasn't practical.  First, I already have knee issues.  Second, it's hard to balance a fat body.  Sorry, ladies, but it's the truth.  I'm having to teach myself to walk all over again!  But I have purchased three different pair of wedge heeled shoes--it's FUN to be TALLER!  I know...little things make me happy.  But considering I never thought I'd be happy again...

Lastly, "heeling" could also refer to my dating life.  YUCK!  I am SO tired of married men!!! The last one, Graham, claimed to be legally separated.  He said he was living with his mother.  I won't go into details, but I discovered he was LYING.  Ugh.  So tired of it.  My dating profiles say absolutely no married men and yet...I may start asking to see divorced papers (or death papers in the case of widowers) on the first date!

It's Monday.  Try to enjoy yours--and know that every Monday eventually leads to Friday!  Have a good one if you can!

Angels in the Living Room and Make Mine a Medium

My mother passed away on a Sunday.  She went downhill remarkably quickly, but the first bad night she had was Wednesday.  She was sleeping on the sofa when she woke up panicked, complaining that she couldn't breathe.  I set her up in the recliner, gave her some medication to help her relax, and then I brushed her hair until she relaxed and finally fell asleep.  I sat in the armchair next to the recliner the entire night.

My mother's neighbor, Debbie, came over in the morning, and she and I were chatting quietly while my mother dozed.  When my mother awoke, she looked around the room and then asked, "Where'd that man go?"

Debbie and I looked at each other, and Debbie asked, "What man?"

My mom said very nonchalantly, "The man who stood behind Rhonda watching over her all night."

I know.  Goosebumps, right?  I had them, too.  And I think that I'm dealing with my mother's death well because of that.  I was protected.  I AM protected.  I miss her.  Terribly.  But something else exists beyond this life.  I do believe that now.

My mom was a tiny woman--4'9 at the time of her death.  She was heavy when I was growing up, but she lost all her weight and managed to stay small.  My mom had a LOT of clothing that still has the tags, never worn: several pair of knit pants from Sears (size petite small) and two pair of capri pants, (size petite medium.)  The knit pants fit me, (because they stretch) but I want to return them.  I'm 5'3" and petite pants are often just a little bit short.  I prefer my pants to "break" at my shoe, and these don't.  The capris are not knit but instead a cotton-poly broadcloth, so they don't stretch.  I wasn't sure they would fit me at all. 

They do.  Perfectly.  In fact, I wore a pair to school last week. 

It's hard to get my head to accept that I'm a size medium.  Bizarre.  I still feel fat, although in my heart, I know I'm not.  I still view chairs with arms as the enemy.  I still walk into a theatre and wince at the thought of squeezing into the uncomfortable chairs.  I still gravitate toward larger styles and have a very hard time purchasing clothing that flatters this new body, instead wanting to find clothing that covers--because that's what I USED to do.

Size MEDIUM.  Me.  It's surreal...and yet it's real.  Maybe my angel can help me accept that?