My heart breaks every time I am at the store or mall with my girls and I see my two yearold watching intently at a grandma with her grandchildren. It is not my daughters’ fault that they have one grandma who lives afar.
At the tender age of two my eldest daughter has known, loved and lost two great-grandmas and a foster grandma. This does not include my mom who died when I was ten. I surround our house with pictures of them and tell her stories of them. It is like I am trying to convince myself that it is okay, we can raise our kids alone.
As I previously shared in “Not Daddy’s Little Girl” in Parent/Teen Stories: Without Judgment, the time between my mother dying of cancer when I was ten until I finally moved out at sixteen, was a very dark and abusive time journey by my father’s hand. To say I was bitter at my mom for leaving us would be an understatement.
During my mom’s multiple stays at the hospital, both sets of grandparents would take turns caring for my younger sister and I. We loved it but it was tough. I remember being over at sleepovers and seeing my friends’ moms doing mom stuff. My mom could not bake or stand long in her later years due to the side effects of chemotherapy. She did watch me ice skate every chance she got. My mom told me she loved me every day, sometimes many times a day. Her favorite line was, “I love you more than a million oceans,” and I repeat that to my girls this every day. My mom did not treat me as a kid, she treated me as a person. Some nights when my dad worked late and no one could help I had to fix dinner for my mom and sister. I was allowed to stay up late and watch shows with her if she did not want to be alone. I think that is why I still love Young and The Restless (one of my mom’s favorite shows), to feel close to her. I would play dress up with her vast collection of purses. She encouraged me to be social and I had a lot of friends at the time.
The night she passed was a complete out of body experience. I still remember which episode of Facts Of Life was on the TV when dad showed up to tell us. As the weeks past I felt so un-important to those around me, and no one said how life will be now. I just had to deal with it and keep quiet. I tried to please my dad and stepmom (who arrived less than two years after my mom died) despite how I felt about how dad took his anger out on me, but I was just hurting myself. I thought once about ending my life so I could be with mom again. As I was hatching the plan my younger sister came into our bedroom wanting to play Barbies, and right then I knew I could not leave Katy alone with them. She was not getting hurt and was too young to really miss mom. Years meshed into one dark and dreary long day. Then, a magic phone call came.
My mom’s best friend since university, who was also my godmother, called to see how I was doing. After a very long conversation (I didn’t care if I got in trouble tying up the phone) she offered to let me come visit for a bit. She only lived twenty minutes away, and I could still go to school by bus. Months later when I turned sixteen, I called her after a big blow up with my father to see if the offer still was open. She said yes, and the next night I left. It was fueled by the fact that my counselor told me that I did not have too live at home because I was sixteen. After I moved out of my father’s home, of course, I never went back.
My fairy godmother, Jayne, rescued me from hell. She brought me back to enjoy life like my mom did. For her to be able to raise me financially I went into the foster care system and she became my foster mom till I was an adult (nineteen years in Canada). I moved out of her home the month I turned nineteen and was getting married to my best friend the next month.
Jayne was my mom in so many ways. Through my losses of grandparents, and her losing her parents within a few months of each other, our family bond stayed strong. We grieved together and we celebrated every occasion together. Along with my sister and her husband, we became a strong family unit.
Then, we were blessed with the news that I actually got pregnant, and our family grew bigger. Our new addition would have a grandma, a great-grandma, lots of great aunts and uncles, and an aunt and uncle living near by. Jayne and Katy, along with my baby and I increased our visits to weekly lunches, shopping and coffees. My daughter got me out of the house and she had love all around her.
Then Jayne’s hip started to bother her, as her genetic history was taking a toll. We spoke by phone as often as we could. She had a roommate that smoked so I could not bring my daughter by to visit. Jayne canceled on many planned outings because of her hip or migraines. I talked with my sister about Jayne’s problems as Katy frequently visited her to check on her.
Magic struck twice. We were pregnant again and expecting just two years after our first child was born. This time I was in more denial and shock. I went to the local grocery store in my pjs to get more tests. I was scared. All we had for help was my sister who worked daytime hours, and I had nobody I could call on a moments notice so I could rest. This pregnancy was harder than the first, plus I had a toddler to care for.
Jayne went through a hip replacement which left her housebound. I tried to help but it was not easy. I could barely keep up with our twenty month old and my growing belly. Months went by and Jayne started to improve. We talked when we could but her mind was confused a lot. I tried to convince myself that she was young, was alone a lot, and she will improve.
Through the second pregnancy my maternal grandma had been placed in a home at the age of ninety three. I took my daughter out to the city as much as I could to visit. My girl adored visiting her great-grandma, and the feeling was mutual. I tried to keep up contact there too. My doctor was giving me heck for travelling so much between grandma and Jayne, and she even suggested that I go on bed rest. That is funny since there was no one to care for our toddler till dinner time when my husband came home from work.
That summer we gathered for a wonderful birthday party for my grandma. It was a rare occasion that there were four generations at the table. I looked at my grandma and didn’t see her in the wheelchair, but saw her sharp eye and mind that must have been going a million miles a minute. She could not wait to meet her next great grandchild. I definitely have a better appreciation for her since I became a mom.
Sadly, my grandma’s heart let go and she passed away ten days before our baby was due. Our daughter attended her first funeral which was two days before our second daughter was delivered via caesarean.
I was immersed in grief and joy and I had a lot of post partum recovery to do. My husband took two weeks off to help. Thankfully his mom was able to fly out to help the week he had to go back to work. I had panicked before thinking how in the heck was I going to heal and take care of two kids.
After the long recovery and bad snowy weather over the Christmas holidays, I began the slow process of regular routines for the kids and getting out in short outings. I squeaked by with short phone calls to the outside world. I tried to call Jayne, and left messages which were never returned. I was in such a struggle with myself I longed for help. Eventually, I found it within my own household and my mommy group.
The New Year had barely begun when more tragedy was at our door. My husband’s grandma had passed. She was the glue of my husband’s broad family. When I first met her she hugged me and told me she loved me, unconditionally welcoming me to the family. Her and his grandpa made one of our wedding showers so memorable. I loved sending them pictures and stories of the girls. My grandma-in-law’s smile and spirit lives on.
Days after we were still in shock of my grandma-in-law’s passing I received a distressed call from my sister. Katy asked when I last talked to Jayne which was only a couple of days prior. Katy had visited Jayne and found her in a position that required her to take her to the hospital via ambulance. Jayne had apparently not left her bed for days because of her hip and had fallen while trying to get the phone. After only two days in the hospital the doctors had to put her in a coma in efforts to fight the infection that spread throughout her body. One day later, she died. She was only fifty nine.
My girls lost one foster grandma and two great-grandmas before my baby was six months old. Jayne’s death still hurts as I write this story. I feel so horribly guilty that I did not do enough for her. She was unable to live with us because I could not nurse her like she needed due to the kids, and we had too many stairs. She helped me to get on the path of the life I have now. I feel like I failed her.
Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda. The kid in me wishes that my mommy did not have to die. I was so mad at GOD for so long. I wondered what did I do to deserve all these people to leaving me here? I miss my mom every hour. I wish I could talk to her and she could answer back. Some say that at least I did not go through the teen years with her, and that maybe I would not have missed her so much. It has always distressed me when I saw other families take each other for granted and bicker over petty things. I would give every cent that I have ever made now and in the future to have one more day with her. As I wrote this ending I got a hug from my two year old beauty and it made me wonder; if my mom did not die, would I have deserved my precious daughters?
RIP Judy February 28th,2009
