The Stories We Leave Behind.

This post has been preying on me for some time. It’s difficult to write. Difficult to share. As time goes on it becomes more important to me.

When I first started this blog it was my way of leaving some of my stories behind. I don’t have children , so there is no “legacy” to speak of. I have family and friends that I see less and less as life goes on. Writing out my stories seemed to give me a chance to be remembered. In 2015 I came across a quote from the musical “Hamilton”, (a play I have never seen), delivered by Lin-Mandel Miranda…

“Let me tell you
What I wish I’d known

When I was young and
dreamed of glory

You have no control
who lives
who dies
who tells your story?

But when I’m gone,
Who remembers your name?
Who keeps your flame?”

This strongly resonated with me as I wondered who would tell my story and keep my flame.

More recently, the episode of “NCIS” that dealt with the death of actor David McCallum and Dr. Donald “Ducky” Mallard, his beloved character on that show, hit the point spot on. It was called “The Stories We Leave Behind” (yes, I plagerized the title for this post). I confess to being one of the vast number of females having a crush on David McCallum since I first saw him play Illya Kuryakin in The Man from U.N.C.L.E. I was heart broken to hear of his passing. In the episode one of the characters quotes “Ducky” with this gem,

“We all die twice, once when our bodies give out, and again when our stories stop being told. ” He goes on to say,

” I suggest we keep the doc alive by telling his stories.”

That was it for me, I didn’t stop crying right up until they brought back the character Anthony DiNozzo Jr. played by Michael Weatherly. He states,

“All the stories, it’s all we have at the end, right? Just the stories we leave behind.”

As I write this, it’s Mother’s Day. We lost my mother when I was 12. She was 42 and her name was Muriel. I question if I told her stories enough, or if I told them well. In all honesty, my stories of my Mom come from the memories of a 12 year old child and may only be accurate to me. The rest of the stories have all come from other people and as I retold them I may not have done them justice. I do know she was a wonderful Mom and loved us unconditionally. Every time I hear a “new” story about her, for a brief moment, she comes to life in the telling.

Muriel aka Mom

About nine months ago we lost my nephew, Andrew. From the day he was born that child lived in my heart. I can not explain how much it hurt to lose him. I didn’t give birth to him but he and his sister, Ashlee, were the closest thing I had to having children of my own. The pain is real. Circumstances made it difficult for all of us to grieve properly. Worse of all was no one was talking to each other about him. In my heart I felt this made things harder for all of us. One day I came across an ad for creating memory books and decided to do that for Andrew. It took me longer than I thought it would as I had to take a lot of crying breaks. It included pictures I’ve cherished over the years and a sampling of the stories he and I created over the years. As I worked through the book I realized how theraputic it was for me to remember him this way and to write about him. I ended the book with a plea to remember his stories and talk to each other about him. I made copies for family members. For some it was helpful. For others, they are still unable to look at it.

Andrew

More recently (last week) we lost my niece Jamie. She was 46 and spent the last 8 years living her best life while battling agressive cancer. She fought to watch her two sons grow and graduate and become men she was proud of. She was pretty active on social media and had been sharing her travels both literally and health wise. Her stories are being told now and I hope will continue to be told for a long time to come.

Jamie

The stories. They are so important. Of course I have to go back to TV now (we all know that’s what I’m all about) when Tony DiNozza asks “all the stories, it’s all we have at the end, right?”. He goes on to add,

“I wouldn’t say only that, we also have the lives we touched while we were here. The people we leave behind.”

Keep the people who have touched your lives alive and tell their stories. I would love to hear about them.

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You Are My Sunshine

Few things invoke memories to the level that music can. The first couple of notes or bars can transport me back to happier times, sometimes sadder times, or just to a memory I don’t want to lose. This particular song will always bring me straight back to my Mom.

I suspect it is a familiar song to most and probably from your childhood. In my case I have surpassed the required number of years to be officially a “Senior” and my Mom passed more than 50 years ago. There are times when I find it difficult to remember things and I have siblings who will always tell me I have it wrong. I was young and I remember her with a little kid’s heart. I see her with a little kid’s eyes. I grasp at those memories and hang on as tight as I can for fear of losing them forever. I remember she was beautiful, I remember she had the voice of an angel and a laugh that could make you cry. She was adventurous at a time when a single mom with four kids was not sociably acceptable. She worked hard to give us everything she could. She was strong and battled cancer at a time when the only course of action was barbaric. She hung on as long as possible to try to make sure we would be ok. She could hug the hurt out of anyone. I remember the last time I saw my Mom was for my birthday in the hospital stairwell. In those days kids weren’t allowed inside. The nurses dressed her and wheeled her right to the door of the stairwell. They helped her stand and she insisted on pushing the door open and greeting me under her own steam. She hugged me, told me she loved me and gave me a birthday present. And then she was taken away. A little over a week later she was gone.

When I hear this song she is right there beside me singing it. I remember the hugs, the joy, and the love she gave me. I will always remember the love.

Happy Mother’s Day Mom, and thank you.

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Still Not The Momma!

This is not my favourite time of year. It is a difficult day for me and for some reason this year it seems amplified. No particular reason except maybe I am entering that “sentimental old fool” phase of my life. One of my more recent blogging buddies, The Hook, (I suggest visiting him but not while drinking anything that can come out your nose when you laugh) has been wandering through some of my older posts. This is his subtle way of letting me know I need to write more. When he comments I have to go back and read them myself to respond. This particular post reminds of how blessed I am with all the children in my life.

•••

Not The Momma!

As Mother’s Day fast approaches I am reminded daily that I am not a Mother. I have never been a Mother. I have never been blessed with having children of my own. It wasn’t that I don’t like kids, or that I didn’t want kids. It just wasn’t in the cards.

I have, however, a bounty of children in my life. I have been very fortunate that my sisters have been more than willing to share their children with me. Yes, I am Auntie M to most and I love them all dearly. Over the years I have spent a great deal of time with my siblings children and have been quite fortunate to have some wonderful relationships with them. The girls are fun and we get to do girl stuff together. The boys can be awkward but I thrive when we find a common ground and build a trusting relationship. I have been there for them all whether it was to celebrate something good, cry about something bad, vent about their parents, query about the opposite sex or bail them out of jail. I have changed diapers, shopped for prom dresses, cleaned up throw up – all the joys only a mother should know.

One of the most amazing experiences of my life came from my husband’s youngest and her husband. They allowed me to be a part of the birth of their children, something I could never have experienced on my own. Yes, I helped to deliver their son and then a couple of years later their daughter. In fact, the second time they asked me to cut the cord! You can’t imagine the torture that young girl has endured ever since,what with me bragging about her having the most amazing belly button in the world. (Seriously, I sent pictures of her belly button to people instead of baby pictures).

Watching all the children in my life grow over the years has given me great joy, and yes also some heartache. I could not be more proud or love them more if I was their Mother. One is now overseas, serving in Afghanistan, not for the first time. Another followed me into the television industry and another is studying harder than anyone I know to become a teacher. I could carry on with the list, they are all amazing, but there are a lot of them.

I hope they will all do me proud and remember to thank their Mother’s on Mother’s Day, and tell them how much they love them and how grateful they are that they are their Mother. I know I thank them for being Mothers and am ever grateful for them allowing me to be a part of their children’s lives.

We have a new first time Mom this Mother’s Day in my family. My youngest niece, who also happens to be my Goddaughter, gave birth on March 31st, to the most beautiful little girl. Ellee Rose will be loved and shared and cherished by all the Mom’s in the family and by her Auntie M.

•••

Since its writing a lot has changed. Little Ellee is now three and cruising around in her Nanna’s backyard in her own vehicle.

Ellee Cruising In Pink

One year old Logan is the new baby and he is doing cruising of his own in his own way.

Logan On The Cruise

Cyndi (the belly button girl) is now dancing and drawing cartoons of me that resemble an old granny.

Cyndi Dancing

I have also had the honour of getting to know a very special young lady named Jane. She is 10 and has taught me a lot in the past few months. She has a very special place in my heart and I am grateful she has let me love her.

Sweet Jane

Of course I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my own Mom.  I was only 12 when she passed but she was an amazing Mother who lived, breathed and died for her children. Her love for us was unconditional. She will always be loved and always be missed.

My Mom

Thank you, Hook, for reminding me exactly how blessed I am.

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Not The Momma!

As Mother’s Day fast approaches I am reminded daily that I am not a Mother. I have never been a Mother. I have never been blessed with having children of my own. It wasn’t that I don’t like kids, or that I didn’t want kids. It just wasn’t in the cards.

I have, however, a bounty of children in my life. I have been very fortunate that my sisters have been more than willing to share their children with me. Yes, I am Auntie M to most and I love them all dearly. Over the years I have spent a great deal of time with my siblings children and have been quite fortunate to have some wonderful relationships with them. The girls are fun and we get to do girl stuff together. The boys can be awkward but I thrive when we find a common ground and build a trusting relationship. I have been there for them all whether it was to celebrate something good, cry about something bad, vent about their parents, query about the opposite sex or bail them out of jail. I have changed diapers, shopped for prom dresses, cleaned up throw up – all the joys only a mother should know.

One of the most amazing experiences of my life came from my husband’s youngest and her husband. They allowed me to be a part of the birth of their children, something I could never have experienced on my own. Yes, I helped to deliver their son and then a couple of years later their daughter. In fact, the second time they asked me to cut the cord! You can’t imagine the torture that young girl has endured ever since,what with me bragging about her having the most amazing belly button in the world. (Seriously, I sent pictures of her belly button to people instead of baby pictures).

Watching all the children in my life grow over the years has given me great joy, and yes also some heartache. I could not be more proud or love them more if I was their Mother. One is now overseas, serving in Afghanistan, not for the first time. Another followed me into the television industry and another is studying harder than anyone I know to become a teacher. I could carry on with the list, they are all amazing, but there are a lot of them.

I hope they will all do me proud and remember to thank their Mother’s on Mother’s Day, and tell them how much they love them and how grateful they are that they are their Mother. I know I thank them for being Mothers and am ever grateful for them allowing me to be a part of their children’s lives.

We have a new first time Mom this Mother’s Day in my family. My youngest niece, who also happens to be my Goddaughter, gave birth on March 31st, to the most beautiful little girl. Ellee Rose will be loved and shared and cherished by all the Mom’s in the family and by her Auntie M.

Read Full Post »