I’m working on healing. It’s time I write it up and release it. I need to send it out like a message in a bottle so I can move on.

I’m struggling to heal from a very difficult period in my life.

The past few years I have gone through a painful situation with someone who meant the world to me. Someone who I loved like a sister. Someone who I would have done almost anything for. To say I loved her isn’t enough. She was part of me.

Then life came between us. Events. People. Stuff.

We didn’t survive it. We came out at opposite ends. I really don’t know the exact how and why of how she feels as she cut me off. Stopped talking to me. We’ve had a few short blowups, but beyond that, I really have no clear sense of how she really feels. The communication has flatlined.

At one point something I said was misunderstood and I wanted to make sure she understood what I meant.  I left her a voicemail and told her I’d meet her anywhere to work it out.

I never heard back.

I can make guesses and assumptions and project feelings upon her, but it really has nothing to do with how she really feels. But that is all I have to work with.

I’ve had to deal with all of this in silence. Yes, I’m a quiet person, but I don’t like to keep things bottled up. A good screaming match is better than years of silence. I just wish we could talk and work through this.

That’s why I decided to publish this on my blog. It’s gotta come out of me somehow.

The end of our friendship didn’t happen overnight. Remember the events, people, stuff? It happened over a period of time. Time that I spent trying to repair things, trying to hold it together, but it was ultimately doomed. Either the friendship wasn’t what I thought it was or the stuff was just more than what a friendship can handle.

After all of this time, I’m still working to get over it. I’ve gotten over the events, the people, the stuff, but I can’t get over losing this friend. I’ve learned to shut it out and quit holding out hope. I’ve learned to accept it for what it is or was or whatever. I’ve learned to smile and get through our encounters. (Our children are connected and we are bound by them).

It hurts. It hurts every day. The pain eases up, but then rages again when we cross paths. I can’t fix this. Hell, I can’t even resolve this. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s time to give up on the friendship, but I am left praying for resolution. It’s an open sore that gets the scab picked off every couple of months.

You can’t force someone to be your friend. They have to want to be there.

How do you get over something that won’t resolve?

While I was at a conference recently I had an epiphany. It came at a bad time, as I was sitting in a session with about a hundred other women. The tears started flowing. Right there in front of everyone.

All this time, all of these painful steps and silence – my self confidence is crap. This friend now hates me. Her family hates me. Her friends hate me. That’s a lot of hate. I don’t know much, but I know I’m hated. I can see it in her eyes when we meet.

I have a hard time even making small talk. Pretending nothing is between us and we are just acquaintences. I feel like there is nothing I can say to make it better, so I’m left without words.

It’s not that I want to avoid her eyes, but I don’t know what to say that will make anything better. And I’ve been so hurt that I put up the walls before anything can penetrate.

They think I’m an awful person. For all I know they all gather just to commiserate and share stories about how awful I truly am.

Now I know I’m not truly awful. I’ve actually thought of myself as kind of a good person.  I’m not without faults and errors and mistakes. But I’m not a monster either. I’m human. I am just trying to navigate my way through life.

It still hurts knowing someone is out there. Someone who hates me. Who blames me. Who won’t forgive me. (I’m still working on my own forgiveness which will help the healing process.)

I have a beautiful soul, right? I know this. My mom tells me it’s true.

Why can I not get over a sense of being horrible at the opinion of one or maybe that one’s people? I know who I am, and I’m not mean. I’m not uncaring. I don’t shut people out or try to get rid of them. I’m not full of hate and I’m definitely not out to get anyone.

What I did figure out during the epiphany is that this has hit me hard. I know it’s hit hard, but I haven’t really seen the depths of which this has fallen. I don’t feel like I’m a worthy friend. I can make light friendships. But I’m scared to death to make a deeper connection.

I’m having a very difficult time forming any deep friendships. For one, I have to find a way to trust that when the chips are down, that person isn’t going to leave me for dead on the side of a highway. Or at the very least, turn their back on me.

Casual friendships don’t have the same commitments.

I tend to bug out when I sense someone could potentially be unhappy with me. If I don’t get a call back right away, I assume they have also made the discovery that I’m horrible.

This was a large part of my epithany. One crumpled up friendship has effected future ones. Living deep in my subsconscious lives a beast to remind me that once burned, always burned every time I start to connect with someone.

I’m not writing this for any one to feel sorry for me or feel like they must walk on eggshells around me.

This is self discovery. The stuff of growth and forgiveness. The power to be strong and a better friend in the future.

I’m writing to tell everyone that you are worth it. Don’t ever let one person or even a group of people tell you you aren’t a good person. You know you who are and an opinion is just that, an opinion.

Don’t keep toxic people in your life. Find the people who will build you up, not tear you down. If you are crying over someone on a regular basis, that person may not be a good fit in your life.

We are all out there trying our hardest, trying to be our best. Sometimes, life gets in the way and we either don’t show our best or are misunderstood. Sometimes friends and friendships aren’t what we think. Our expectations aren’t where they should be. Some relationships have a short life, but everyone comes through your life for a reason. Not all are meant to stay forever.

Learn from everyone and don’t turn your back on them. Try not to impose feelings or actions on someone when it simply isn’t there.

Don’t ever let anyone tell you different.

Bad Neighbors

We have bad luck with neighbors. We bought our first house in an older neighborhood, full of retirees and their perfectly manicured lawns. Our lawn was the saddest on the block. Then a few years later, the house to the south turned into a rental. The beautiful grass turned to weeds and dirt, and we watched a stream of interesting characters move in and out.

Then the house across the street was sold. It never went on the market and we guessed the older bachelor had passed away. Our new neighbors moved in at 10 p.m. on a Wednesday and began mowing the lawn. At 10:30 p.m. At least they mowed, because that was the last time they mowed or scooped or did anything to the outside of their house. It quickly became two residences – with the basement rented out to another stream of interesting characters. The main guy drove a massive dump truck. He brought his work home with him. The thing was terribly dangerous to be parked on the street. One day they had a party. I actually enjoyed it as it was just as entertaining to watch. My favorite part was how they had converted their garage into a disco. There was a mirrored ball and a DJ and they were getting down with their bad selves. Until the cops came to break it up. I swear it wasn’t me.

The cars outside increased until they were creatively parking up to 6 cars in the driveway and several along the street. More and more people showed up until it was hard to tell who lived there and who was visiting. Lots of 20-something men hung out in the yard out front and came and went. One of the guys hit my car and ran. We got his license plate. The police said he had several aliases and he was hard to track down.  Then the day came when people started pulling up outside and honking their horns. Someone would come out, then the car would drive away. I called the police and they said they were investigating the house as a Flop House. Oh joy. I was home at the time with a baby and a 4-year-old.

The house behind us was filled with a family of a mom, dude and a few children from different relationships. They spent every day, every hour, every minute of the year outside. They smoked pot, yelled at their children and owned about 5 large barking dogs. Their backyard was mud year round. They had crap piled up everywhere in the yard and next to the house. We dubbed them The Clampetts. Every year they would pick one song. Just one. And play it over and over and over again. You guessed it, they played it at deafening levels. One year it was Celebration by Kool and the Gang, another it was She Bangs by Ricky Martin. You get the picture. With the loud song playing over and over again, they had to yell at each other. It was mostly Mrs. Clampett, whose voice would peel paint. It was raspy from years of smoking, thin and down right annoying. She called her kids by their first and middle names. “MEGAN RAY!  MEGAN RAY!” “NO JASON DAVID! DON’T EAT DOG POOP!” They were all incompassing if we wanted to spend time in our backyard or even just have our windows open. I swear that woman haunts my nightmares.

The crown jewels of the neighborhood lived 4 houses down from us near the corner. These lovely people believed the local police were harassing them. We later found out they had received noise complaints and complaints about a huge temporary carport next to their house. They also had about 4 large SUVs and one clunker that never moved in the street. We dubbed these people The Sign People. They started with one sign on their car about police harassment. Then one in the yard. Then another and another. Then, they turned their American flag upsidedown. They later explained to us it was a symbol of distress, not disrespect. Their house became a landmark in the neighborhood. People driving by would stop, back up and sit in front reading all of the signs.

We decided it was time to move, not only to get away from the Flop peeps across the street, but also to move into a more family friendly neighborhood and slightly larger house. Outside of The Clampets and The Sign People, there were no families on our street.

We had difficulty selling thanks to The Sign People. When we did move, the Flop House closed it’s doors and a family moved in and fixed up the house. This happened almost concurrently to our move. The dirt pile next door became new sod. And the sign people took their signs down. Once we vacated the neighborhood, it was safe to go back and be a nice, quiet neighborhood.

We moved into a nice, family neighborhood. Very suburban. Very family-oriented. Moved in and found out the empty house across the street had once been a meth house and scene of quite the drug bust.

Now, our neighborhood seems to be overrun with suburban teenage thugs. They aren’t necessarily bad kids, but they aren’t necessarily respectful either. In our first few months, I watched teenage boys make drops in the open shed of the abandoned meth house. Across the street from our driveway is the backyard of the house across the street. It’s an empty area where lots of teenagers like to park and hang out. We get large-ish groups of teenagers parking and chilling. Or they meet, get in one car and leave all of their other cars. We have reported teenage boys lighting up in the street.

They are also little vandals. They’ve smeared barbeque sauce all over our neighbor’s car. They ripped our Christmas deer up and put them in a compromising position. They steal lightbulbs out of garage fixtures. They really like the colored bulbs. Our colored Christmas bulbs were stolen this year. A few days later one of the bulbs was stuck in our planter. I picked it up and found a note that said “My Bad” stuffed inside. I cut my finger on the broken glass. My blood is now on those loser’s hands. I’m glad they felt bad about “their bad.”

I’ve cleaned up trash, bottles with chewing tobacco inside, bottles with sunflower seed shells inside, chip bags and candy wrappers. Today, I picked up some napkins blowing in the street. One napkin was stuffed with a used condom. EEWWWWW! At least I knew enough to only touch the edges of the napkin so nothing touched my hands. Except the napkin and that was bad enough.

Does everyone have these experiences or are we just the lucky ones? Are we magnets for meth flop sign houses and suburban teenagers?  I’m ready to turn into the Neighborhood Nazi and hang cameras from my eaves. Go all Clint Eastwood on these hoodlums. Maybe I should sit on my porch and load and reload my shotgun. I’ll need to get a shotgun first.

This is a question I ask myself all of the time. Sometimes I get it right, sometimes I get sucked up in life’s issues and lose focus.

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life.” – Henry David Thoreau, Walden

One of the greatest gifts my husband has given me has been to teach me to live deliberately. When he met me, I lived for the future. Planning, setting goals, looking ahead. I rarely really looked at where I was at the moment and lived there.

This summer has been a tough one for living deliberately. I’m coming to the realization of losing my dad. I’ve spent a lot of time looking back at the past. At my childhood, at his life, at our relationship. Lots of past events.

I lost my grandmother last week. On my anniversary. We knew it was coming and I had hoped she would wait just one more day, but she is now gone and in a better place. Away from the pain and back as herself. She had suffered from dementia for four years.

My mom injured her back in June and spent the five weeks living with us and recovering. I wasn’t ready to play nurse again or take on the health issues of a family member. I struggled. I lived to take care of my mom.

My mom has not been well. Her life is filled with lots of ups and downs with her health along with threats that something very serious is causing it all. I’m on constant alert with her.

The last thing that I want is to fill my life and blog with sickness, death and downers but that’s where my life is these days. I had a very hard time at back to school night where we saw friends and everyone asked “how was your summer?”

I’m not sure how to answer that question or the question of “how are you today?” I usually answer with a meek “great.” When the truth usually is “sad” or “overwhelmed” or “numb” or “alone.” I don’t want to bring everyone down or be the person to be avoided because I’m not upbeat. As hard as I have worked to stay focused, smile and enjoy everyday, right now, my life contains a lot of sadness and healing.

I’ve missed trips to the pool, to the mountains and to the park. I’ve missed enjoying the sun beating on my face and the warmth around me. I’ve been so busy taking care of everyone that I’ve missed my life.

Even with everything going on and all the saddness I am working hard to live deliberately. I do smile. I laugh. I haven’t made a lot of fun trips but I have made a few. Time is limited and time is important to fill with what is happening today. Yes I’m sad a lot, but I’m also squeezing in happiness. I can’t live without it.

Tomorrow my girls will be grown. Today, they love to be around me almost constantly. I’m going to live deep.

Remember and learn from the past. Plan and anticipate the future. But live today.

As we were driving to a hospice meeting for my grandmother today, my oldest stated out of the blue, “I’d like to see Grandpa Wells.”

I almost slammed on the brakes. She knows he is gone. Then I realized we were passing Fort Logan. He was supposed to be buried in Fort Logan.

When he was sick and all hope was lost, my dad told me he wanted to be buried in Fort Logan with full military honors. I had sobbed through all of it as we talked about his two tours in the Colorado National Guard. He told me about being sent up Mount Evans to fight a fire and how he trained and was placed on 24 hour notice to be shipped to Germany during the Cuban Missile Crisis. He served his country between the Korean and Vietnam wars. He gave several years of his life to training in the National Guard and even achieved officer status before being honorably discharged, fortunately before the Vietnam War.

I researched his eligibility to be buried in Fort Logan. First research brought an answer of no. Additional research and a call to Fort Logan brought an answer of yes, as long as he had certain discharge papers. He did. And Fort Logan said he was eligible.

I promised him a full military burial at Fort Logan, just as he wanted. His eyes lit up at the thought of taps being played, the flag folded and the gun-salute.

After he passed away, Fort Logan sent his papers through the national offices for final approval. We made plans for the burial he wanted. Then the national office came back and regretfully told us he didn’t see active duty, and was therefore not eligible for military honors. It didn’t matter that he had served, the military rejected him. I was heartbroken.

I highly respect the members of our military and the sacrifices they and their families give to our country and our freedom. But I am so saddened that military recognition comes with limitations. I understand that active duty personnel are in dangerous situations and risk their very lives, but our troops at home and overseas at times of war and at times of peace are not eligible for military recognition based on the duties they perform. If you serve our country and make the commitment to see active duty if necessary, you should receive recognition for your sacrifice and time. All military troops should receive the same recognition. My opinion.

We re-focused and planned a new service. It was explained to my daughters, but somehow they didn’t remember today.

Laurel began innocently asking me questions about where he was if he wasn’t buried at Fort Logan. I teared up and tried to explain the back-up plan. She became uncomfortable and whispered to her sister “quick, change the subject.”

She’s perceptive. We’ve since talked about it being okay to talk about grandpa. It’s okay to get teary or sad. We are all still grieving. But that car ride was tough this morning. It froze me. I couldn’t think fast enough to explain what happened without falling apart or becoming unable to drive.

I have ignored my blog for the past few months. I actually haven’t ignored it more than just been pulled away from it. As you know, my dad was diagnosed with kidney cancer on April 1. He passed away on May 2nd. It was a nightmare of a month full of 9-1-1 calls, hospital stays, bad news, more bad news and fast declining health.

Two of the weeks were spent in the hospital. One week in palliative care spent hoping there would be a cure. A stall. Something. Then a final week with hospice. I can’t say enough about The Denver Hospice. Amazing, caring, unbelievable people. I don’t know what we would have done without all of the support 24 hours a day.

Then a fast decline and suddenly we were sitting in a mortuary making final arrangements. More on this later.

I really had no idea what had happened and didn’t have time to process. After making calls and settling his affairs things began to slow down. For about a day. Then my mom landed in the hospital with a herniated disc. She has been living and healing at my house the past three weeks.

A vacation and another loss. The loss of a person whom I’ve known for two years. A fighter. A bright spirit. Someone taken too too soon. Her children left behind to grow up without her. Makes me wonder how such a strong, courageous, caring human being could be taken when the person who flips me off while passing and cutting me off on the highway is still here.

For those of you keeping score, that’s three losses in six months.

My chin is up, I’m enjoying the warmth and freedom that summer brings and trying to pull my life together. I’m changing my perspective and feelings on a lot of things. I’m looking at things differently. I’m concentrating on the silver linings. On the happiness and being thankful for everything and everyone I have in my life.

Hug those who you care about. Be thankful and love the life you have.

Thank you to all my wonderful friends and family for your support and messages. I haven’t been so good about getting back to everyone, but I appreciate and love all of the notes of love and encouragement.

Here’s an update on my dad…

His jaundice had gotten much worse on Thursday and his legs were swelling. He had finally gotten an appointment to get the biopsy a week from Thursday. It felt so far away, especially as I watched him look and feel worse. I made an appointment for him on Friday morning. During that appointment, the doctor decided he needed to go into the hospital for additional care. The doctor said if he continued the way he was, he wouldn’t be able to handle the biopsy by Thursday. All I could think was “DUH People! He needs medical attention and you aren’t moving.”

At the same time, I felt like I was living a nightmare. I never thought I’d ever see my dad so helpless and so sick. This is a guy who has seen a doctor about six times in the past 30 years. He’s tough. He’s invincible. He’s my dad.

We took him to the hospital on Friday and a whirlwind of tests and doctors started flying. He had three MRI’s, a bone scan and the biopsy. He was really exhausted from all the tests but at least he was getting attention and they were looking at all angles.

On Friday we also met a doctor whom I’ve dubbed “Doctor Death.” Doctor Death has no hope, not a lot of tact and gets emotional when she talks to us. Her only real answer to all our questions is a tearful “just remember, every day is a gift.” She gives no hope and just tells us to focus on today. She has also told us that treatment isn’t always the best option. Sometimes, it shortens or decreases quality of life for the patient. Even my dad has said, he feels like she has given him less than a week to live every time she talks to him.

My dad’s nurse mentioned to us that she overheard Doctor Death telling us prognosis and she felt Doctor Death didn’t handle it well.

In walks Doctor Hope. Doctor Hope is/was my dad’s oncologist for the weekend. Unfortunately he is only filling in for the weekend and we start over with a different oncologist tomorrow.

Doctor Hope does not paint a rosy picture of rainbows and happiness for us. But he does something that puts a crack in the clouds and helps us feel stronger…he gives us just a tiny bit of hope. There’s a small chance my dad will be able to try treatment. The treatment won’t cure the cancer, but it may slow the growth or even shrink it. There is a chance it won’t help at all and there is a chance that my dad won’t be able to tolerate it. But it sits out there waiting for him. It’s something to look forward to. It’s something that makes me focus on hope for my dad, rather than just focusing on losing him.

Yes, I will lose him. I just hope to keep him around as long as I can. Every day is a blessing. At this point, even hearing he has 6 months or 3 months gives me hope.

This can’t be happening.

We are all still in shock, including my dad. None of us can make sense of someone who ate healthy, exercised regularly and was seemingly fine about a month ago being so sick and in so much pain so fast.

Here’s what we know so far (I will try to keep my blog updated).

He has Stage Four cancer. They believe it began in his kidney and has spread to his liver, his lymph nodes and bones. It’s aggressive. They are going to try to put in a stent in his kidney on Monday to help it drain to help the jaundice. If he can get rid of the jaundice, they will look at some treatment options. Chemo doesn’t seem to work on kidney cancer. It’s too wide spread for radiation so they are hoping to do a treatment that involves a pill that will hopefully shrink or slow down the cancer.

He had a fever tonight when we left so we are hoping there isn’t an infection or something else brewing.

I had planned last week to write a few posts about a dear friend whom I lost in January. Then my life turned upside down on Wednesday.

My dad has been complaining about injuring his shoulder and then his back since early March. He didn’t know what he had done to hurt himself, but the pain was immense. He reached a point two weeks ago that the pain was more than he could tolerate anymore and went to Urgent Care. They x-rayed him, told him he has the joints of a 45-year-old and told him to rest. A few days later on a Saturday, he was back, because the pain was not lessening.

They gave him some Vicadin, said he had back strain and sent him home. On Monday, he returned, explaining that he had run through his prescription. At this point, an alert trauma nurse practioner noticed he was also yellow. Back strain doesn’t make you yellow. The doctor thought he may have hepatitis. I quickly did research. Two bad kinds, one kind that is fully recoverable. Scary but I’d go with Hep A. If he had that, the description said it takes about three months to recover. I thought, three months…that’s a long time to have him not feeling good. It would take him into the summer until he was up and running again.

He went back in on Tuesday for an ultrasound and lab work. Then he was scheduled for a CT scan on Wednesday. Now, the doctors suspected a blocked bile duct in his liver. Not Hepatitis, good, but would he have to have surgery to get it unplugged? What would this entail for recovery? At least it was curable and fixable.

I met my parents at the medical office for the CT scan. I had seen my dad the previous Saturday. He looked pained,  yellow and very weak. He had gone down a lot in five days. It was scary. I wanted them to find the blockage and get him feeling better and fast. I had just lost a friend to liver failure and I could tell he was going septic.

I made arrangements with my mom to babysit my dad the next day. I didn’t think he should be alone in case he didn’t feel well or if he needed emergency attention. He was not well.

Thursday.

My mom and my dad both called me independent of each other to tell me a miracle had happened over night. The pain had stopped. My dad told me I didn’t need to come over anymore. He was feeling better and on the mend. I decided to come visit anyway. I wanted to make sure he was still going to go back for follow up to make sure what had blocked would stay unblocked. Again, research online the night before had taught me about a liver disease where bile ducts plug and unplug until the liver becomes very damaged and requires a transplant. I was ready to put my name on the transplant list if it was needed.

Then the doctor’s office called. They would see him over the lunch hour. When we got there, I learned he didn’t have an actual appointment. We were told it isn’t hepatitis or a blockage.

It is cancer.

Cancer of the kidney. And it looks like it is metastasizing and moving outside of his kidneys. The rest of the conversation revolved around getting a biopsy to then work on prognosis and treatment. They also told my dad he needed to gather his family and discuss next steps. He needed to make sure all of his affairs were in order. He needed to name a medical power of attorney. A prognosis plan. Would he want hospice? There wasn’t anything about positive outlooks or treatment. It was all about making decisions on how he wanted it all to end.

I felt cold. I wanted to throw up, run out of the room, hug him, cry, deny and crawl under the covers and hide. I had to be strong for my dad. For the first time in my life, he wasn’t stronger than me. I was the strong one.

I asked questions, listened to everything that was said, tried to retain as much as I could while trying to find my way back to the beginning of the day when the miracle had occurred and he was better.

We walked out of the doctor’s office in shock. He turned to me and said “I guess my mother will outlive me. I never thought I would get cancer.”

He’s right. Cancer does not run in my family. Most everyone I know on my dad’s side has died from old age. My grandmother is 93 and just graduated from hospice.

I drove him home. I walked him to the door, but it was obvious we both needed some time alone to absorb and try and make sense of what had just happened.

I called my husband and brother and worked to lure my mom home so we could tell her. The rest of that day was full of tears. Full of family. Full of realizations.

I didn’t eat dinner. I had skipped lunch. I went home and finally threw up. I have had a series of challenges and stressful events occur this year. This just blew everything away. It’s amazing how something like this makes everything else that seems so big so small.

I tried to imagine life without my dad. Tried to imagine what the next few months hold. I crawled inside myself. I did my best to ignore and deny but it wouldn’t go away. It was there when I woke up in the middle of the night. It was there when I stared out the window. When I drove my car. It was always there. I couldn’t make this go away.

I felt a little better Saturday as I prepped for the Easter Bunny’s visit. I felt like I briefly stepped out of the nightmare and back into life. But just as quickly as I had rejoined my life, I ran from it again. I couldn’t research anything online. I began sobbing inconsolably at the mention of “my dad.” I couldn’t eat. I just couldn’t function. I would shake and feel sick. I felt like I was watching my life instead of participating. I didn’t know how to deal with this.

When something happens in my life, I talk. Ask my husband. I talk and talk and dissect and analyze every piece. I couldn’t talk about this. I couldn’t call friends. Couldn’t talk to family. The only thing that kept me out of bed was my parents and my girls. I had to keep going for them.

I had no idea I would lose my ability to cope with this type of news. I’m not completely naive. My parents are getting up there in age. I have thought about what would happen when they are gone. Somehow, I never thought I’d actually get to that point.

Everyday I’ve made a little progress towards acceptance.

Yesterday I felt a little better. I ate a little bit. I did a little bit of research while tears streamed from my eyes. I learned there is some hope.

Today I was back at my job. Back at shuttling my girls to and from school. Back to responding to emails and working on projects. My dad is also a bit stronger. Pain and jaundice have eased a bit.

Today I rejoined my life. I found myself again.

Now, I’m ready for the fight.

The year 2010 is showing itself to be a rough year. A stressful year and a year full of changes and realizations, but also a year that’s keeping me in mourning. I’m mourning the loss of a friend and a friendship. I’ll save the friendship loss for another post.

A friend of mine, one of the mom’s from my daughter’s school, passed away in January. She and I weren’t terribly close but I did love her and miss her every day.

Last December, she showed me that her eyes were yellow and made a comment that it was just so weird and the doctor didn’t know what was causing it. I’m not well versed in diagnosis and disease, thought it was odd, and didn’t think much of it. We were also at school at the time, helping in the classroom. It was busy and I barely had a chance to say hi let alone chat.

Dee and I met when her son and my daughter began kindergarten 2 1/2 years ago. They were instant friends and we chatted a lot while waiting for school to get out. Last year, we were room moms together.

Dee wasn’t real open with her life, but then again, neither am I. I keep a lot private and don’t show many people what’s truly inside. She would give hints that maybe her life wasn’t perfect, but the rest of the time, she worked hard to make it appear to be.

When we all came back from Christmas break, I didn’t see her. Not totally unusual and I was busy and distracted and I figured she was too. About three weeks into the new year, I really missed Dee. I decided I would call her and catch up when I had a chance. We were also supposed to get together over the holidays, but it just didn’t happen.

The next night, I received a call from a mutual friend of ours asking me if I knew if Dee was ok, because her had been mom picking up her son since the break. I wasn’t worried, and said we would have to corner Dee’s mom the next day at school to see what was up. Tori had a bad feeling and called over to Dee’s house. She called me right back saying Dee had been very sick the past few weeks and was in hospice with less than 48 hours to live.

Shock. Cold chills. Disbelief.

How? When? Why? Not possible.

We jumped in the car and drove to the hospice at 9:30 that night to say goodbye. I was living a nightmare. I felt like throwing up. I couldn’t deal. I wanted to run. But I knew I would never forgive myself for not saying goodbye to Dee. I was given the chance and I had to take it no matter how difficult. For her and for me.

The next two days were whirlwind. I was in a fog. I focused on the kids. All the kids who knew Dee, were touched by her as a preschool teacher and a very active mom at school. I tried to work with the school to get grief counselors in for the kids. Made calls to friends that I knew would want to say goodbye.

Then the call came and Dee was gone. Other than tearing up a few times, I hadn’t cried at all. I wasn’t going to allow myself to grieve, because it simply wasn’t happening. I went to her funeral feeling afraid to cry and afraid not to. During the service, I teared up. I felt incredibly sad. I watched as her son, husband and mother sat there and survived.

Her son. He was the love of her life. He was everything to her. How could she leave him to fend in this world without her. How would he fend in this world without her?

The service ended and we stood in line to give our condolences to her family. I wasn’t sure I could do it. I’m shy and I had barely met her husband and mother. When it was my turn, instead of comforting them, I could barely breathe. I fell apart. Telling them through gasps, tears and short breaths that I would miss her smile, her energy and her amazing loving spirit.

Everyday since, I think about her. I miss her. As I park my car at school and walk up to the classroom door, I miss her so much. I see her son and want to cry. I want to hug him and tell him I’m here for him. I want to tell him that he will make it through and that his mother loved him so much. I don’t, because he’d probably think I was a crazy person.

I miss her. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about her. It sounds silly, but I want to write on her Facebook page and tell her I miss her. Damn Facebook continues to ask me if I want to catch up with her, share the latest news, find her some friends. She is constantly in my friend reminder window.

Yes Facebook, I would like to share the latest news. Do you have a way to do that or do you just enjoy torturing me?

I wish I could talk to her just one more time. Take in her smile and the twinkle in her eye. Tell her that no matter what, I’m here for her and her family.

And give her a hug.

I will continue with more about her passing and how I’m working through it in another post later this week.

I love Valerie Bertinelli. I’m not exactly sure why. Maybe it’s her likeable and down to earth personality. Maybe it’s because I’m fascinated with her Hollywood lifestyle and marriage to a rock star. Maybe it’s because she starred in One Day at a Time and I identified with her character. Either way, I’ve always been a fan of Valerie’s. (Yes, we are on a first name basis now).

I had to watch her guest co-host on The View today.

The ladies were discussing Barbara Walter’s final pre-Oscar celebrity special. On it she interviews Mo’Nique and Sandra Bullock. Both said their husbands were very important forces in their lives. Mo’Nique said she believed in open marriage. I can strongly state that I don’t believe in open marriage for myself. I can’t see how allowing others into your bond, your partnership, your family could possibly strengthen it over weaken it. But hey, if it works for Mo’Nique, I’m not judging.

As for having a supportive, life changing husband, I agree with. Mine is my rock. He is my best friend, my shoulder to cry on, a partner to laugh with. He above all, supports me in everything I do, even if he doesn’t agree with it. He will tell me the pants I have on make me look fat or if I have a booger. This is all good. I’d rather look ridiculous in front of him, because I know he loves me, even with a booger in my nose, instead of in front of the harsh public. I definitely don’t need people laughing at my atomic wedgie behind me in the mall.

I only hope I come close to being as strong for him as he is for me. I’m not sure I will ever attain that status. I will, however, always let him know he has a booger. Snickering included.

Thanks D for being my wonderful, dear husband. You have brightened my life in countless ways since we met and I don’t know what I would do without you.

If you missed my BFF Valerie on The View, you can watch the episode on ABC.Go.com.

I am a participant in a Mom Central campaign for ABC Daytime and will receive a tote bag or other The View branded items to facilitate my review.

I have so much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving weekend and everyday. And it seems the older I get, the more thankful and appreciative I am for the things I have in my life. When I start to feel like everything and everyone is against me, I remind myself of how lucky I am.

1. I am thankful for my beautiful daughters and husband. They are my rock and the motivation behind almost everything I do. I feel so very lucky and thankful for having them in my life. I’m not sure I deserve them.

2. My parents and my husband’s parents. All four are amazing and my pillars.  I am blessed to have them all in my life.

3. Health. I had a horrendous flu this fall that I believe to be the H1N1 although not confirmed. It has felt like one out of the four of us has been sick continually since August. If there is a bug out there, one of us will find it and bring it home. But I am thankful that all of our illnesses have been minor. Members of our extended family have other health challenges but we are all going strong. As a child, I never understood why someone would be thankful for their health. Now, I realize how thankful I am for my health and the health of everyone that I care about, because I have been so blindly fortunate.

4. My friends and family. I love you all and am so blessed to have you in my life. I am thankful for all we share.

5. Material items. Seems so superficial, but I am very thankful we have a roof over our heads, cars to get us to and from and everything else that brings us comfort, entertainment and joy.

6. Employment. It’s been rough out there the past few years. My husband suffered a layoff several years ago so I know how scary and hard that is. We have both stayed employed through the downturns and my job is prospering. I am so thankful to have a job that gives me balance between work and home.

7. A good school. Both of my daughters attend amazing schools. How lucky is that?

8. My kitties. Although both present their own challenges, I don’t know what I would do without my furry companions.

9. My iPhone. I only ended up with one because my husband received his as a gift. Holy cow! What an amazing device. A life changer. My life is now with me everywhere I go.

10. Twitter. Another life changer for me in 2009. Who would have thought it?