Tangled in a World Wide Web

 April is often equated with Spring and rain, not gloomy gray days, but happy little showers that bring life and beauty. Everything is colorful and lively. But for me, April is a tough month. As I sit here writing this, I am acutely aware that one week from today marks the 12th anniversary of the passing of my mom. It seems unreal even as I type those words.  Twelve years. I don't need a calendar or reminder app to keep up with that. My mom passed 13 days before my first biological child was born. I spoke with her the night before, and that conversation began exactly like every conversation I had with her began for the previous few months... "Do we have a baby yet?" To say that she was excited is like saying Pompeii was a bit warm in 79 AD. The fact that she never got to see my baby or hold her is one I will never get over.  In 20 days, my oldest girl will turn 12, and I can barely believe it. She never got to meet the woman who raised my sister and me by herself. She nev...

 I needed some time to process this one before I could form words, let alone coherent, cohesive thoughts. That doesn't necessarily mean that it will be better, but I hope it is taken with the respect intended.  We all have our own Kryptonite . Some of us know what it is. Some don't. This week, Brad Arnold of Three Doors Down " left [his] body lying somewhere in the sands of time ", and his words in the hearts and minds of at least one generation. His particular Kryptonite turned out to be a common one... Cancer.  There is, undoubtedly, not one among us who has not lost someone close to us, or at the very least watched someone close to us battle this beast. If the sickness isn't bad enough, the treatment is often as bad or worse. Patients are expected to Down Poison . It's a Dangerous Game . Not everyone wins, but that does not mean Loser . Brad Arnold did not Duck And Run . Just like with his music, he gave his best. Now, as he told us he would, he has passed...

With the approach of the holidays, I find myself in the familiar and unenviable position of being torn between all the blessings I should be thankful for and remembering that this is my first ever Thanksgiving without my mom. This is complicated by the fact that this week also marks the seven month anniversary of her death. Hard to imagine. My mom loved the holidays. The food, the fellowship, the family, the food. So many things remind me of her. So many little things. This will be an event. We are going to go to my sister's as I have most years when I could. Eating in the same place we had Thanksgiving last year with my mom. I don't know how to prepare for this. I don't like being ill prepared. Much less unprepared. I am writing this mostly as a cathartic exercise in hopes it will help. I am not fooled. I am not naive. Maybe a little desperate. I am trying not to imagine Christmas. That is a whole other ball game. And it falls on the eight month anniversary of my mom...