Posted on

To Mom on Her 68th Birthday

Mom&Dad's WeddingDear Mom,

Today is your 68th birthday. I’m guessing you’re getting a pretty good look at the happenings from up in heaven, but it’s just not the a same as having you here to share it with us. We miss you, darnit. I want you here so I can give you a silly gift and we can take you to dinner and make you a birthday cake.

It would be so great to have you at work to share in the successes and joy in the company you loved so much and worked so hard with Jim and Grandpa to make into a warm, inviting, ethical, fun culture.

I want you to be able to play with the kids and not just see, but experience what amazing little people they’re becoming. How Ben can read and write so well now and how he picked up rollerblading like it was walking. How Tabby can do complex equations in her head and can bake the most perfect chocolate chip cookies without a lick of help from me or anyone. How they can both doggedly sit at the piano and learn new pieces.

I want to travel with you – to experience places that I know you’d love – France, England, cruising with Mickey. I want to experience entirely new places with you. I’d be fine staying home too. Mostly, I want you here so you can be sharing in all the fun we have. I don’t feel guilty about it. I know you’d want us to keep having fun, but I just want you here to share it with us. Just being with you would be awesome, even if it was at the bottom of the proverbial well.

Selfishly, I want your good advice and your caring words. I want hugs when the world gets just too rough. I want to be able to call you up on the phone for absolutely no reason at all but to say hey. To tell you about the great book I just read and the plans for the weekend and the pretty new sheets I bought just because I know you love that sort of thing.

Obviously I don’t get a choice, because this isn’t the one I’d make.

I think about you often and sometimes I can hear you. I guess either I really listened or you’re still talking (not so hard to believe, given your personality). I’m OK with either.

Keep shining down on us. We’re turning our faces up to you.

Jess

Posted on

Promises to Keep

6579186493_304d36d3b4_oToday marks the one year anniversary of the worst day of my life, the day my mom, the embodiment of all that was good, kind, special and amazing passed from this world and into the next.

Just a few days later, my sister and I spoke at her funeral, words that I still believe and am committed to honoring today.

We spoke of the honor and blessing that it was to be her daughter and the wonderful lessons she taught us: to work hard, to enjoy the hell out of life, to laugh much (at ourselves as well) and to not take life too seriously.

We spoke of all the things we’d miss about her … her presence, so lively and fun … her foibles like over packing for everything and indecisiveness … the wonderful times we had together … the great conversations, great meals and great fun we shared … her amazing spirit and how she cared for everyone in her life.

We said that we could spend a long time being very angry at the injustice of it all, or we could choose to be grateful for all the wonderful time we had together.

So we made the commitment to be grateful and resolved to do some things that honor and preserve her memory: read my kids bedtime stories and raise them well, work hard for the company she loved, buy myself some nice clothes now and then, continue to travel, explore and experience, ignore our housework and have fun … and perhaps most importantly, take care of each other and love our family and friends fiercely!

And so, 365 days later, I think I can say I’m a better person than I was this day last year.

I can’t ever see mom’s death as anything but a bone deep, cutting loss. I still think of her every day and it still hurts. I still hate to go anywhere near her office. And I still have terrible moments when I re-realize that she is gone and it’s almost overwhelming to bear.

But I can see that I have allowed some positive things to come from it. I’m a better, more patient mom than I was a year ago. I am a bit less concerned about the long term “good” of the kids and more interested in making sure they feel my unconditional love right now. I have gained perspective in my life. While I work damn hard for the company we both love, I will not allow it to interfere with what’s really important – the relationships in my life. I have been able to loosen up on some of my control freak ways and live in the moment a bit more. Our family, including my dad and sister, are closer than ever and we take great care of each other and really really appreciate each other … And MAN have we read the bedtime stories!

I will always wish I had more time with her. But I take huge comfort in the fact that not much of the time we had was wasted. We did, we saw, we lived it up … we loved. If not quantity, we got QUALITY, and I know how incredibly blessed that makes us.

Posted on

To Mom On Her 66th Birthday

2013_03_10_153350Dear Mom,

It still doesn’t seem quite possible that I’m spending your 66th birthday without you. We’ve spent birthdays apart before – yours or mine – but we’ve never been more than a phone call away and we’ve never let one pass without a special dinner or gift or outing. I remember one birthday that we spent at the zoo. We made quiche and hummingbird cupcakes and had a picnic. It was a beautiful day and we so enjoyed our time together.

I won’t lie – the last 9 months have kind of sucked. It’s been such an odd mix of low-level depression and getting by reasonably well with a few ugly crying sessions thrown in for good measure. I never know what will get me. Being at your house is somehow lovely and comforting. Being in your office? Terrifying. I can’t explain why.

And sometimes I’m really upset at how I’ve been able to move on – putting our clothes on each day, going to work, making dinner, reading to the kids, having date nights with Matt, having fun with friends, camping, traveling, living – because you were so important to us and it just doesn’t feel right that we should, could go on without you.

I know of course that the last thing you would want was for us to stop living life. You were the master of that art. Equal parts caring and fun and everyone’s friend, confidant and role model. We that knew you better than anyone else were the luckiest – are the luckiest. My regrets concerning you are few – mostly that there wasn’t MORE – more fun trips, more workday lunches, more Grammy stories, more birthdays. I suppose it’s greedy and I try to comfort myself with the fact that we got quality over quantity. I am grateful for that.

I felt sad about the fact that Kelly and I didn’t have our manic ritual of selecting the perfect gift for you this year. I gave the Leukemia and Lymphoma society some money for Mother’s Day and while I am happy to put money towards research for a good cause, a meaningful cause, the whole thing was just so hollow and crappy and banal. So for your birthday, I am making a tradition that I hope to carry on for years to come.

I am asking the kids to pick out something new that they want to try and we will do it so we can continue living in honor of you. We might try a new recipe, go find a new book to read, see a new movie, check out a new shop or visit a new museum. We will take us with you in our hearts and keep enjoying this big beautiful world for you.

Happy Birthday, Mom. I love you.

Jess

 

Posted on

Thinking of Mom

2014-05-08 06.35.33One misty moisty morning,
When cloudy was the weather,
I chanced to see an old man,
Dressed all in leather.

Dressed all in leather,
with a cap under his chin.
Say “How do ya do?”
and “How do ya do?”
and “How do ya do?” again.

– Quoted hundreds of times to us by
Mom, from a nursery rhyme –

Posted on

The Good of 2013

It was a fast and furious ending to 2013. I had crazy fits and starts trying to finish a project at work (long story short, it STILL isn’t done). I spent a ton of time playing Santa and chef de cuisine. I caught strep throat and left Matt alone with 4 kids while I slept for 48 hours straight. We packed up most of our house and started killing things off on the before-we-sell-to-do-list. We rang in the New Year with some great friends and then spent the first week of 2014 relaxing and skiing. Blogging  has been one of the last things on my mind. But it’s important to me and I do want to get back to it.

In a subsequent post, I plan to list off resolutions for last year and new ones for this year, but now I want to reflect on 2013. I started to do a retrospective questionnaire about the year and realized it was pointless. The most major thing about 2013 was definitely losing my mom and all roads sort of lead back to that terrible event. But I’m a glass-is-half-full kind of girl all the way around and I know Mom wouldn’t want me dwelling on the crap, so I’m going to list off 10 great things that happened last year.

  1. I watched my sweet kiddos grow and mature another year – they’re exceeding my expectations and are truly lovely little people. Tabby can read anything you put in front of her and is making amazing strides in math, music and SKIING. Ben has all the good foundations to start kindergarten and learned to ride a bike and can ski with the best of ’em. Best of all, I’m proud of their characters. They are kind, thoughtful people.
  2. I got to spend another wonderful year with my hubby who continues to be the best husband and father to my kiddos I could ask for. We’ve laughed, cried, tackled crazy projects together and had lots of fun.
  3. I found a new closeness with my dad, sister, family, friends and coworkers who were so incredible when Mom passed away. You all made it bearable.
  4. We got to take a wonderful trip with Matt’s step mom, sister and niece. It was a great experience we all fully enjoyed.
  5. I completed a sprint triathlon. That still kind of boggles my mind.
  6. I sought and was awarded a promotion to marketing manager, a role I’m still trying to figure out.
  7. We decided to sell our house and build a new one.
  8. We had amazing adventures skiing and camping.
  9. We got to gather with our extended, extended family for our bi-annual reunion in August.
  10. We got hedgehogs!

I can’t say I’m sad to see 2013 go and I’m a little apprehensive about my first official calendar year without Mom, but I’m going to do my best to continue to enjoy life and find pleasure in the good stuff. It’s still there. I just wish Mom was here to share it with us.

 

Posted on

Looking for Christmas

2013-12-04 08.31.05The view from my office is cold and snowy this fourth of December in the hardest year of my life so far. It wasn’t a particularly fun (or horrible) drive to work and I’d much rather be skiing than marketing today.  Despite those feelings, I’m glad to see the white stuff again simply because it’s putting me a wee bit in the Christmas spirit.

Since I moved back home with Matt in tow almost 10 years ago, we’ve spent almost every Christmas morning at my parents’ house. We even slept over on Christmas Eve most of the time simply because we could. Christmas is big, important and fun and filled with traditions. And a helluva lot of that centered around my mom and the tremendous effort she put into making Christmas nice for everyone.

I think we’ve all been feeling that if left to our own devices, Christmas 2013 might just not happen – or we might just all jet off to Tahiti. We’re not really feeling in the holiday spirit this year. But of course there are two little people who are counting on their big day being just as big and fun as it always has been. And while I don’t think it will be exactly the same, I am determined to do it up right for them.

So a different plan has been hatched this year. It will be light on the presents but hopefully approaching the normal level of joy. Instead of being at Mom and Dad’s we’ll assemble at our house. I feel like this will be a nice send-off for the little house we’ve called home for the past 9 years. Christmas brunch won’t be at my grandma’s – she moved to assisted living earlier this year – we’ll do it smaller at our house. Christmas dinner will be bigger and my dad will host … with us to help.

I’m sure I’ll cry. Maybe a lot. But hopefully we can bask in the real meaning of the season – a pause to appreciate all we have and celebrate with those we love.

Posted on

Halloween

halloween2

Halloween was fun. I got up in the weeee smalls and went into work early (partially because I couldn’t sleep and partially because I had a ton to do). The beginning of the week was manic, but it ended well because I took off by 11:30 on Thursday and took ALL OF FRIDAY off. YAY. My first stop was Tabby’s school to be room mommy. We spent some time decorating and then I got to do T’s makeup, which was fun. I improved my game from the first go-around and added blue eyeshadow which was a fun touch.

I’m room mom along with Tabby’s best friend’s mom. I didn’t really know her (new best friend) until we started all of this and it’s been fun. Neither of us are over the top and we’re pretty much on the same chill wavelength. We just did a few games … math, madlibs and mummy and a bookmark craft. Food was decidedly. I made rice krispie treat pumpkins with tootsie roll stems. I initially balked at the idea of sculpting the rice krispie treat and was just going to cut it out with a cookie cutter, but I really hate smashing the krispies into the pan and I think in the end this was easier. There were NONE left, so I guess the kids liked them OK. Other parents brought fruit and veggies and crackers and cheese and juiceboxes and water. Tabby’s teacher was very appreciative of our work. He’s made it into a very nice class and we had fun.

halloween1

After the school party, we picked up Ben and got to work carving pumpkins (totally procrastinated on that!) and prepping for having people over. We were set for a group of 24 (!!) and we had to haul to get it all done. Matt had his robots in full force. They now number three: silly-string-shooting spider, eerie floating ghost and swooping bat. The bat was this year’s project and unfortunately still needs a little work. It was fun though.

The kids were a quivering ball of over-sugared craziness by the time guests started arriving. Our friend who was bringing toppings for the carnitas I’d made was late and we had to start eating without her … or the toppings. But it was really no big deal because another friend had brought seven layer dip and we just used that as toppings. It was surprisingly good. The last family showed up shortly after dinner and then my dad and sister after that. They stayed to eat and hand out candy in peace while the rest of us braved the ‘hood.

The kids were crazy, running all over the place and having too much fun and sugar. Matt bought LED gloves for us on Amazon and they were a big hit and it also made it easy for the kids to find us. We only did two blocks since it was windy and cold, but the kids filled their buckets. Back at Casa de Nichols, the kids sorted and ate their candy and the adults had another adult beverage. A short while later, we bid our friends adieu.

2013-10-31 20.46.36

My kids got their jimjams on and brushed their teeth extra carefully and closed out the evening with Grammy Stories … read by Papa.

Posted on

Sometimes

Sometimes I start crying for no apparent reason.

Sometimes I feel so normal it kind of sickens me.

Sometimes running helps.

Sometimes nothing helps.

Sometimes I just want to call and chat.

Sometimes I just chat anyway.

Sometimes I see red hair or a dark grey SUV or hear that ringtone and forget entirely for just a fleeting moment that she’s gone.

Sometimes I can laugh at a memory.

Sometimes that same memory has the complete opposite effect.

Sometimes I’m grateful for everything that was.

Sometimes I’m just pissed as hell.

Always I miss her.

Always I love her.

Posted on

Grammy Stories

DSC_0037

 

My mom was the queen of reading – but not in the sense where she’d read every “classic” book or constantly had her nose in a book. No, Mom’s reading always centered around interacting with kids. From the time we were small, straight up until we were either too cool or too busy (probably the later), Mom would read aloud to us every night. Dad did sometimes too, but mostly, it was Mom’s thing, particularly as we got older and we could listen to “chapter books.” Mom read us loads of series: Anne of Green Gables, Little House on the Prairie, All of a Kind Family, Indian in the Cupboard. She would read a few chapters and then we’d beg her for more and usually she’d let us have at least one more. She loved it as much as we did.

So when the kids were born, we started reading outloud to them every night before bed. And my mom did too. And where we, the busy parents frequently only had time for a story or two, at Grammy’s house, bedtime stories were practically unlimited. Mom would go to the library nearly every week and load up her Jefferson County Public Library tote with as many books as it could hold. She found books that we had loved when we were little and completely new authors that we’d never heard of. And when the kids latched on to a particular favorite, chances were good a copy would show up on their birthday or under the Christmas tree, signed “Love, Grammy.”

After Mom died, I worried that since the kids are so young, particularly Ben, they might not remember her in the vivid, technicolor way that I remember her. That thought terrified me. She was an amazing, wonderful, never-to-be-duplicated grandma and I want them to remember her. I wanted something routine to keep her memory going. I wanted something that was essentially Grammy to keep them connected to her. And then I had an idea.

To preserve and honor Mom’s memory, we made a small adjustment to bedtime stories. They are now known in our house as “Grammy stories” and they are read every night that we can possibly manage. The kids have embraced this idea and demand their Grammy Stories nightly. They love to pick out the books that she gave them, remembering, “Grammy gave this to me for my birthday” or “Grammy got this book from the library.”

As I sit with the kids, cuddled up on either side of me, so engaged with the story, I feel closer to Mom than I do at any other time of the day.