Bursting with PRIDE...

I'll admit it.

I didn't know what to expect.

But, I'll also admit I was truly excited to go visit our son, Blaize, in Chicago for our very first PRIDE Parade.

We've been planning this for awhile. While we were at the Comstock's Backyard Bash in May, I asked the same person who made their t-shirts to make some for us, too.

Our kids worked together to 'design' what theirs would say.

I follow an Instagram account called "LGBT History.'  I saw a picture from the 1980's of a mom with her son.  Her shirt said, "My son is BI.  I don't ask why."  Her son's shirt said, "My mom is straight and she doesn't hate.'

As soon as I saw it, I took a screenshot and sent the picture to Blaize.  I told him I wanted those shirts!

Several months later, Ed and I each had one black t-shirt and one gray t-shirt packed in our suitcase.  Our own version of the t-shirts I'd seen was screen printed on the front and back.

Blaize, Brody, and Bentley had their own tanks with a clever saying which paid homage to the popular NSYNC song, "Bye, Bye, Bye.'

Bursting with PRIDE.

It's not unusual to be apprehensive when you go into a new situation or atmosphere.

Chicago has a defined LGBTQ community called Boystown.

I've been there a few times now but, as a heterosexual person, I'm one of the minority.  I've witnessed how many minorities are treated in other walks of life.

I'm here to say that any concerns I had were all in my head.  From my very first visit, I felt immediate acceptance.

In fact, being the mom of a LGBTQ son, I have--what I would call--an elevated status in Boystown. Mom's are LOVED!  Dad's, too.  But, Mom's seem to be even more revered.  I feel like a rock star when I'm there.

Who doesn't like feeling special?

But, the best part of going to Boystown with Blaize is seeing how happy he is. We meet his friends--he proudly introduces us--and I sit and listen as he tells them how lucky he feels that he has his family supporting him.

Those words melt my heart.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Bursting with PRIDE.

I'm still trying to figure out the proper and politically correct things to say. I have a habit of speaking before I think.

Blaize had to correct me a few times before I made a faux paux with something I said.  I actually did say two things that had my son looking at me with a negative shake of his head and an eye roll.  Luckily, I didn't say it where anyone besides my family heard. Blaize asked if I'd run anything questionable by him before I said it. See, I am never too old to learn!

I doubt I would have ever been in Boystown without Blaize taking us there.

I doubt I would have ever made a special trip to Chicago for the PRIDE parade without Blaize wanting us to come.

I definitely wouldn't have had t-shirts made.

It's about Blaize.

We'd do anything for him.  Just like we would for our other three children.

Sometimes, that can take us in a new and an unexpected direction.

I'm certainly not a perfect person.  I try to live a life of acceptance and only share my opinions with those who ask me.  I've screwed up.  I've probably said things I shouldn't have said without thinking how offensive it might be to someone else.

When one of your children suddenly tells you they're part of a minority group--one which is often questioned and ridiculed--your world changes in that instance.  I've become hyper-sensitive to the hate and insensitivity in our world.

I'm learning how to become an educated mom of a LGBTQ son. I don't address every slur I hear.  If someone truly wants to become more aware, I'm thrilled to discuss anything with them.  As for the others who simply want to judge or 'save' me or my son...well, I've chosen to let them live their life as they have a right to do...and I walk away.   

The PRIDE parade brought tears to my eyes.

I stood among thousands of people. We were all there for different reasons.

Personally, my reason wasn't political or to make some statement.

My reason was my son.

Bursting with PRIDE.

I did something uncomfortable for me. And, once immersed in that huge crowd, I felt more a part of the group than I could have imagined.

Acceptance.  Total acceptance.

I am a 52 year old heterosexual female. Instead of sticking out in the crowd...I blended in.

I can't thank Blaize enough for giving me this experience. I understand now when he tells us how life-changing his first PRIDE parade was for him.  I felt the same attending mine.

As a person who thought she was open-minded and full of acceptance, I've realized I have a long way to go.

There's always more to learn and a plethora of ways to encourage acceptance.

I love you, Blaizer.

You've expanded my world in ways I never imagined.

It is what it is.

p

She Made Her Own Path...

Our youngest child--and our only daughter--graduated from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign recently.  She now holds a Bachelors in Elementary Education.  She's going to be a teacher.

It's been a five year journey with many 'ups' and 'downs.'

More 'ups.'

But, the 'downs' are a part of any experience.

As I sat back and watched her walked across that stage, I couldn't stop my eyes from welling up.  She did this on her own.

She made her own path.

When you're the baby and the only girl in a family, it's both a blessing and a curse.  She's not only happily spoiled by her brothers (and us) but she is often discounted, as well.  We never did it on purpose.  But, I have no doubt there were times she felt as if we didn't listen to her as much or didn't seek her opinion as often as we did her brothers'.

She's one of the sweetest people I've ever known.  Always wants to see the best in everyone.  Forever smiling and caring.  It's no wonder she became a teacher.  She's following her true calling.

She started at U of I with all three brothers.  Over the years, one after another left and there was one year she was all alone.

It's within that year that Ed and I noticed our little girl was able to handle herself.  She made decisions and shouldered responsibilities which she wouldn't have done without one of us previously.  She was forced to 'grow up.'  She did it with ease.  I know she undoubtedly struggled yet she didn't let on.

She made her own path.

Ed and I finally had a chance to sit and talk with Beni not too long ago.  We've not been the most attentive of parents in recent months with my mother-in-law's illness and subsequent death.  We apologized to Bentley and told her how proud we were of her.

Life 'happens' in ways we least expect...when we least expect it. I don't know if Ed and I handled everything the best we could.  Whatever we did or didn't do as parents during that time, she somehow came out unscathed and stronger than ever.  These last months made our daughter even more independent and steadfast.  My heart hurts knowing she would have wanted us 'more' yet the positives outweigh the negatives.  I am at peace with that.

I really have no idea what I hoped for as Bentley's future.  It became clear early on that she would do something which helped others.  I was thrilled when she showed an interest in education.  My family has a stronghold in that profession and I'd like to think she came by this naturally.  It's one of the most thankless professions there is while being one of the most rewarding.  I'm so very proud of her choice.

While I will continue to see my daughter through the eyes of a mother for the rest of my life, I have to remind myself she is such a strong and independent woman now.

I can't promise her that her brothers will ever stop spoiling her.

I can't say her dad and I will, either.

Or, making fun of all the things she did when she was little.  It's kind of fun, truthfully.

It's hard for all of us to admit our little Beni Lynne has grown up.

My baby.

My only daughter.

The image of her brothers crowded around her, as a newborn, laying on a blanket on the floor...singing "You are my sunshine" to her at the top of their lungs will forever be one of my fondest memories of my four children.

The palm tree of rubber-banded hair on top of her toddler head.

Fast forward to the breathtakingly beautiful (inside and out) woman in her U of I blue cap and gown.

We love her, desperately.

She made her own path.

It is what it is.

p

She's Supposed to be Here...

In the hierarchy of life, your mom is supposed to be here...the matriarch of the family.

Your mom is the first example of what 'love' means.  You don't know it, in the beginning, of course.

She's simply your first love.  Your 'first' everything. 

I wanted to be a mom for as long as I can remember.

I wanted to be a mommy like my mommy.

When your foundation is shaken and the person you have the closest connection to in this world--she gave you actual life--is no longer here...well, it's indescribable.  Even for a person who finds words easily, I have not yet found the right ones to express this emotion of loss.

Though I lost my mom nearly 16 years ago, it's as fresh and as raw as if it was yesterday.  If I don't think about it, don't really think about it, it's almost bearable.

I have my moments and I let the tears flow.  But, for whatever reason, I tend to do this in private.  Not in front of Ed or in front of our kids.

She's supposed to be here.

It's been well-over a month since we lost my mother-in-law.

Recently, Ed told me he wanted to apologize to me.  He said he rarely asks about my mom or about how I'm feeling.  He said now that he's lost his mom--well, he can empathize like never before.

Of course, I told him there was nothing to apologize for because he would have had no possible way of knowing until it happened to him.  He's always been supportive.

We talk about how lucky we were.

Now, my mom was hardly perfect.  She could drive me crazy sometimes, yet, I looked forward to talking to her each and everyday.  We had ups and downs in our relationship but I never had a doubt how much she loved me and my brother.  She was the base of all we are today.  I could never repay her.  She showed me unconditional love. She showed me how to love my children.

Ed and his mom shared an often unspoken love between them.  If you knew them, there was not a doubt how deeply they cared about each other.  Everything Janet did was with Ed in mind.

Our moms were different.

And, our moms were the same.

They loved us.

We're in our early 50's now and both our moms are gone.

We don't like being the grown-ups.

I don't like being the only female left in our kids lives.  It's too soon.  Way too soon.

I suppose this is the way life goes.  The natural progression.

Our own mortality is hitting us square in the face.

Of course we know no one lives forever, but I often think about how sad life is that our kids weren't able to have their grandmothers for longer--and us--have our mom's.

They were quite a pair.

I remember my mom saying, when she got her cancer diagnosis, how envious she was of Janet.  The fact that Janet would be able to see our kids grow up and she wouldn't.  Mom said our kids were lucky they would have Janet there for them.

Now, mom and Janet are together again.  I'm sure Janet has filled mom in on anything she's missed.

I can imagine them laughing and smiling.

They're supposed to be here.

It is what it is.

p

What are we going to do now?

We walked out of the nursing home and stood in front of Ed's truck.

The funeral home was on its way.

We didn't say anything for a few minutes and then Ed looked at me.

“What are we going to do now?” he asked.

I saw Janet before I actually met her. The Turner Junior High gym. I was a cheerleader and she was that cute boy Eddie Stewart's mom. It was a basketball game and I was 12 or 13 years old.

There was no way I could have known, nearly 40 years later, the woman sitting on those bleachers would become such an integral part of my life.

I think Ed and I might have been in college when we were talking about our parents. Don't know what started that conversation, but, what sticks out is that I said something about how I had always told my parents how much I loved them and they would say the same to me—everyday--sometimes multiple times a day.

I can still see Ed's face, illuminated by his car's headlights, as we were heading down the back road from Floyd & Janet's house in Arcadia to Jacksonville.

He was looking straight ahead and said, “I've never told my mom I love her.”

I remember being shocked. That concept seemed so odd to me because I could clearly see how much they cared about each other.

I asked him why not?

He said, simply, “She knows.”

I told him to turn the car around.

We went back to their house and Janet was sitting at the kitchen table. She looked surprised we were back so soon.

We sat down and Ed said he just wanted to tell her something.

You should have seen her smile.

She quickly said, “I love you, too.”

From that moment on, the “I love you's” became more frequent.

You see, the thing about Janet and Ed's relationship is that they would do absolutely anything for each other.

That was the unspoken part.

But, that night, I think they both understood how important the spoken word was, too.

As outgoing as Janet was, Ed is equally as quiet.

Opposites?

No. He's his mother's son.

They have the kindest hearts. Caring. Compassionate.

They just expressed it differently.

But, both loved their families more than anything else in the world.

Janet was a natural caregiver. She'd done it all her life...for so many people she loved.

And, when she was the one who needed the care, Ed was there.

Unwavering. Supportive. Selfless.

She once told him, during these last months, that she knew he would make the right decisions for her—that she had complete trust in him.

That. Is. Love.

Perhaps the only people who Janet loved more than her son, were his children.

God, she was proud of them. Typical Grandma style.

Or, in the case of these four...Monger style.

When Braxton was little, he had constant ear infections. Dr. Dailey would tell us that everything sounded like it was underwater. So, when we would call Janet “Grandma” apparently, it sounded like Monger to him.

It stuck.

Our kids started out with three Mongers. Monger Ruby, Monger Lin, and Monger Janet.

About 15 years ago, Monger Janet was the only Monger they had left.

One grandparent.

As their mom, I'll be forever grateful for the love and support she gave to them.  Our Four 'B's, as she would call them.

Too many times, too many memories to share. But they hold those in their heart now. That's where they'll stay.  

We couldn't have asked for more.

“What are we going to do now?”

It's been a long, long time since I first saw Janet.

That cute boy, Eddie Stewart, became the love of my life. And his mom became more than the woman in those bleachers in the Turner Junior High gym.

She was my mother in law, my kids' Monger Janet, and in these past months, she became my friend.

I'm going to miss her.

It is what it is.

p

Asking for help can be a lifesaver...

It will soon be 6 months since her stroke.

In and out of the hospital.

So many 'ups.'

Just as many 'downs.'

We've tried anything and everything suggested to us by medical professionals.

A few Mondays ago, following the latest return from a hospital visit, we asked for help.

Ed signed the papers so Janet could enter hospice care.

After our initial meeting, we felt immediately at ease.

Janet has a large family and many, many friends.

But, when it comes to the decisions my husband makes for his mom, he has a small circle of us in whom he confides.  Our four children, of course.  Some of Janet's family.  Her sister, Esta, is a constant source of strength and guidance as is Janet's eldest grandchild, Justin.  We don't know what we would do without them. These months have bonded us in a way which words can't describe.  They know what this journey has been...because they've lived it right along with us.

But, sometimes, we doubt ourselves.  Are we doing all we can for her?  Have we exhausted every avenue of possibility?  Is the quality of life worth extending the quantity?

Hospice adds a layer of comfort to not only Janet but to us, as well.

Asking for help can be a lifesaver...when dealing with death.

Oxymoron?

Yes.

Death isn't only about the one who is actually dying.

Death is also about the loved ones who will be left behind.

Hospice gives us the answers we can't find for ourselves, as well as validation for the ones we do. 

Hospice gives us hope that Janet can be in charge of her death just as she was with her life.  

Those who know and love Janet are aware of her strong independence and her deeply caring and compassionate soul.  She has made it clear to Ed what her wishes are.  He is doing everything he can to make sure those wishes are carried out.  It's his turn to take care of her as she has done for us, and for so many, throughout her life.

Asking for help can be a lifesaver.

This is the first time, since August 6, where I feel at peace.  I see that Ed feels this, as well.  I think we can handle the days ahead.  The questioning has stopped.  While I felt we were before, I'm truly confident now we are doing our best for Janet.

There is no right or wrong when dealing with a loved ones illness.  Your love for them keeps you moving forward.  But, as a caregiver, I've learned how important it is to keep asking questions, to keep advocating, and to keep reaching out for help.

Hospice can be days, weeks, or even years.

While we have no idea how long Janet's journey will be, we do know one thing.

We know Janet will be allowed to end her days the same as she lived them.  

Life is so many things.  Milestones, momentous occasions, or mere moments.

We've spent many of those with Janet.

Now, we're here for her, again.

One final time.

It is what it is.

p

When a stuffed animal is more than a stuffed animal...

Holidays were important to my mom.

Traditions, within those holidays, were an integral part.

When Ed and I became parents for the first time in 1990, mom bought our son a stuffed animal.  She said he was going to receive one each Christmas from then on.

Less than two years later, she was buying for two grandsons.

Then, three.

Finally her fourth grandchild, the only granddaughter, came into the picture within five short years.

All our kids got stuffed animals from my mom at Christmas.  Braxton would forever have 'one more' than the others, since he was the oldest...and so on.  They relished this.  Can't change birth order.

Ed started putting the stuffed animals into a old lever pack, with a metal air-tight lid, which had belonged to my grandparents.  This way, we could store the animals in the garage during the other times of the year and they'd be safe from the elements. 

As the kids grew, their collection did, too.  They loved opening the lever on that metal lid and pulling out the stuffed animals they'd aquired.  Memories lived within that container.

Once our tree was up, the kids liked to put all of their stuffed animals around the tree--since Santa would be bringing the presents on Christmas.  Some years, they would sleep around the tree.  Other years, they would pick a bedroom (usually Bentley's because the boys said hers was the biggest) and bring all their animals into it.  They'd sleep on the floor, in sleeping bags, with their animals surrounding them. I loved seeing where they would choose to sleep.  It made the weeks leading up to Christmas so exciting for them.

When mom passed away in 2002, the kids had already amassed quite a stash. 

Though we never spoke about it, specifically, I felt my mom would have wanted me to carry on this tradition.

Within the past several years, we've have. While we missed some years in between, we have picked up where we left off. 

Yes, I know.  My kids aren't little anymore.  Braxton is 27; Blaize is 25; Brody just turned 24; and Bentley, 22. 

But, they're still my little kids.  Monger Lin's grandchildren.  And that means they receive a stuffed animal at Christmas time.

I'm not sure mom ever had a plan as to what would happen when the kids grew and moved out into their own homes. 

I've told them they can either leave the animals here or take them with them.  We'll see what happens.

These animals are so much more than stuffed animals. 

They represent a love their Monger Lin had for them. 

They represent the wonder of the Christmas season through a child's eyes.

They represent the innocence of youth.

We've incorporated another tradition, as well. All the kids' Christmas ornaments, which they made during elementary school, are in separate, individual, boxes. Our Christmas tree holds only the ornaments from those boxes.  It's a tree full of our kids, across the years.

When they stopped making ornaments, we let them pick one out each year.  This became difficult--hard to coordinate teen-aged schedules for a joint shopping trip--so, I started having special ornaments made each year, instead.  Now, we give these as one of their presents. Each year, they have a new addition to their ornament box. 

Every family has their own traditions.  Their own reasons for repeating the same things over and over again, without fail. 

I can't explain the joy it brings to me to see the kids come home and put their ornaments on the tree.  Or, to go through all the stuffed animals trying to find theirs.  My adult children turn into the wide-eyed little kids I strain to remember.

Perhaps one of them will want to carry on this stuffed animal tradition with their family. 

One thing is for certain, Ed is going to have to find another container somewhere.  This one is filled to the brim. 

Mom knew what she was doing, didn't she?

It is what it is.

p

Thankful...

Usually one light is off and one light is on.

The one over her bed is dark so she can nap.  I keep one on, at the other side of the room, so I can see what I'm doing.

This is how most afternoons look at the nursing home.

Shade pulled down at the window.

The TV is on CNN, with the volume turned low, until I'm told to change it back to what she wants.  Even though she'll be back asleep in less than a minute, I change the channel.  Once her eyes are closed, back to CNN it is.  No matter how sleepy she is, she seems to have an innate sense of what channel the TV should be on.   

My mother-in-law suffered a stroke, in her brain stem, at the beginning of August.  We had been in Florida for exactly one day when Ed got the call and he grabbed a flight back.  What we first thought was a light stroke was actually a debilitating one.  Paralyzed on her right side, Janet had trouble speaking and wasn't able to swallow.

Within days, a feeding tube was put in so she could receive nutrition and get her medications.

We weren't given much hope.  Given her extensive medical history and all the major health issues she already had, overcoming this didn't seem realistic.

Yet.

Here we are.

Long story with many ups and downs...but somehow she's beaten high odds against her and is in a nursing home, fighting for her life.

We don't discuss it much.  What's happened.

Simply take one day at a time.

Remain positive about the progress she's made and leave it at that.

We all realize she won't be going home.  But, there's no need to verbalize it.

The day focuses around two CNA's getting her out of bed, eating her meals, having some therapies, and getting back into bed.  We do this at least twice a day until the final time after supper.

Sometimes it's shower day.

Other than that, the schedule is set.

After nearly two months of my husband trying to juggle his demanding work schedule along with his mom's health needs, I offered to take a leave of absence from work to take over Janet's care.

Ed is a man of few words.  If you know him, you know this. He doesn't like to ask for help and he tries to do everything himself.

I wish it wouldn't have taken me so long to offer.

We had no way of knowing what we were in for and how long Janet would fight.  Leaving the hospital, at the end of September, the doctors told us there wasn't much time left.

Ed and his Aunt Esta had a great routine going.  They shared time with Janet and made sure one or the other was present when doctors would come in and give updates.  They each spent many nights with her while she was in the hospital.  Neither wanted her to be alone.

Esta is a rare gem.

Selfless and caring, she has changed her life since August to be there for her sister and for her nephew.  No doubt about it, we could not be on this journey without Esta. Nor, can we ever thank her for all she has done. There are no words adequate.  We only hope she knows.

The world becomes much narrower when you live within the confines of a nursing home.

Add to this the fact Janet is in isolation, because of an infectious diagnosis, and our world has become the four walls of her room.

We wear masks and gloves upon entering to be with her.

I have to admit I look forward to her naps when I can lower my mask and breathe normally without the obstruction.

Thanksgiving is coming.

I am so grateful although maybe I shouldn't be because of the circumstances.

I've been blessed with time.  Time with Janet that I otherwise wouldn't have had.

I've gotten to know her in a completely different way than I had before.  I've known her for nearly 40 years.  We've shared a lot.  But this, well, this is much different.

We laugh.

A lot.

Nonsensical things.

We have inside jokes.

Laughter truly is the best medicine.

We hoard candy in her room's mini fridge. Even though she can't eat it, she offers it to anyone who comes to visit.  She offers it to the staff.  I look forward to my 'two' Reese's each afternoon.

I've realized, even more, what a sweet soul Janet has.  She doesn't feel well, yet, she treats all the staff here with such kindness.  I know I could never do what they do.  Sitting in Janet's room all day, I hear what they go through. I see it.  The care of our sick and of our elderly isn't for the faint of heart.  Janet understands this and appreciates all that is done for her.

I am so grateful I've been able to see this.  Defintely puts things in perspective.  While Janet has lived a life as the care-giver of so many, now she needs the care.  She seems to love this place.

Life moves on around us.

We focus on this room and Janet's routine.

I think what keeps the whole family going is the knowledge that Janet would do the same for us.  No questions asked.

This is what family does.

Our 'other' life will wait.

Janet needs us now.

And this is where we'll stay.

Thankful.

So very thankful.

For time.

It is what it is.

p