And So, It Arrives: The Eve of the End-A 15 Year Reflection from a Motherless Daughter

A decade and a half ago this week, I learned what it meant to lose the person who gave you life, my Mother. Between October 25 and November 3, my mother made her final transition into receiving her wings. The time between October 31 and November 3 was a painful one because it was very evident that she had limited time. She missed so much, including some of the following: 

My Dad's Parkinson's diagnosis and progression from the disease. 

Our 40th birthdays, Matt's 50th and 60th! My Dad's 65 and 70th.  

Three high school graduations of her grandchildren. 

Three college graduations of two of her grandchildren and seeing the photos of her grandson in London. 

Two graduations of her daughter. And two post-graduate certificates, too. 

A marriage proposal. 

A wedding of the century, one that she would absolutely approve of. 

Her son and daughter-in-laws 25th anniversary. 

My frozen shoulder. 

My breast tumor. 

Panic attacks. 

When I became a professor. 

Meeting the countless students, I would love for her to meet in person. Each one of them would certainly have received a special gift from her, personally. 

A pandemic. 

When America Lost Its Mind 

and so much more. 

My mom's life as much as it was short and full of many adversities, but she spread so much joy. Her presence on this planet is lived through her children, who are hard-working adults, who take care of others and often spread joy. She taught me as well as my dad, what it really means to be an empathetic and compassionate person. I think I use those skills every day I have been an educator. 

Although I struggle to smile this week, as well as the following weeks that lead up to my father's death in November as well, I am reminded of how her adversities gave me strength during the pandemic. It helped me support my father for the last 11 years of his life when both his mind and body were unkind to him. They helped me to see that humanity is most folks, even those who cause me the most pain. Mom, I miss you, but I know we will meet again. 

Until then, I am reminded of how this song is from CeCe, is something you would have said to me, 100 times over, even though this song was released five years after your death. 

A Year Without You! A Daughter's Journey After Losing Her "Superman"

 It is really hard to believe that next Friday, November 19th, will mark one year since my father's passing. It is amazing how different grief can be the second time around, especial when you officially become an "adult orphan". 

This week a year ago, we were finally able to visit my Dad consistently while he was in hospice. It was a week, despite the visit to the nursing home, it was business as usual. My brother was still working (probably 9-10 hour days) and I teaching a full load, still attending meetings and trying to deal with the fact that within a week my Dad would be dead. 

His death taught me a lot about how much his approach to "difficult life events" that I had adopted. This same week, business as usual, I began my Canvas Certified Instructor certificate" which I would continue through this past. My Dad was one that never really had the luxury of grieving like "normal folks". Through the almost three and half decades my parents were together he had to grieve often but still do "business as usual" through the many hospitalizations my mother had, dealing with her mental illness, and her death. 

So, when the time came for us to deal with his death, it was "business as usual". 

What I have learned about grieving, there is no timetable because it is forever. Grief although we think it can break you, it actually makes you a lot stronger. My grief was right on time because it ran alongside a worldwide pandemic and reminded me that I should be grateful for every breath I was blessed with. 

There was one thing that was born out of his death: I no longer tolerate the behaviors, events, and actions the break spirits. Through my Dad's death, I was found the courage to do those things that I didn't think I would do beyond getting my Ph.D. 

I am thankful for 47 years I was blessed to have my Dad. I am thankful for the 11 years he had Parkinson's disease and I know that our visits together during that time, not only blessed him but those that lived with him in the nursing home. 

I am also thankful that my Dad was "Superman" in the flesh. A human that always fought for the underdogs of the world and was willing to help those in need. 

Well, Superman, I hope you like the StorpCorp piece for a Yours Truly campaign around Parkinson's next week. 

Until we meet again in 2073, keep being my Superman in the Sky, and thank you for those two weeks for us to accept your transition into peace. 

 

Sunrise 2-6-1949/Sunset 11-19-21

A Bond From Day 1-Until We Meet Again!

John William Crosby, Sr. 

Sunrise: February 6, 1949                            Sunset: November 19, 2020 

Dad, 

From the start, we were bonded together. Shortly after my birth, Mom was hospitalized and you were there for me. You were the kind of father that many never have. One that was completely devoted to the welfare of his wife and children. You time after time, put your needs aside to keep us safe and more importantly provide both John and I a very normal childhood despite all the moving and times we had to face mom’s illnesses together. 

I am deeply grateful that you supported me throughout my life. Without you, I would not be where I am. There would be no Ph.D. without your influence. You ensured that both John and I always went to great schools and lived in great neighborhoods. This shaped my personality and helps me be a great educator to this day.  Even when we had to live at the Pike Motel for several years, you chose this so we could stay in the same high school and have some sense of consistency. 

Thank you for all the rounds of golf, days of shooting basketballs, and teaching me how to change a tire.

Thank you for being a gentle giant with a very compassionate soul. People ask me why I am so giving, it is because of YOU! 

Thank you for NEVER giving up on mom. On many days, you had to endure things that many could never imagine. Thank you for being my partner in compassion as we traveled many hours to see mom during her numerous hospitalization over the lifetime. You showed me what is needed from caregivers when our loved ones have to face the fear associated with chronic illness. 

Thank you for showing both John and me how a man should treat a woman and lighting up every time you saw Matt when we visited with you at the nursing home. 

More importantly, thank you for being a Parkinson’s Warrior. The disease was unkind to you yet you still smiled. You still could find joy amongst the pain you had to endure each day for 11 years while you lived in a body that was failing you. It is a model of strength that I plan to continue in your memory and to help your legacy live one. 

Although I plan on not seeing you for another 52 and ½ years, I do hope that you will be the one to come and give me the two-week notice that you gave me in the end. You knew I was serious and delivered. Goodbye, Dad but the song from “I’ll Find You” by Lecrae and Tori Kelly reminds me that you will find me again when the time comes. 

Love,

Cherie

When Your Guardian Angel Prepares You for #200

Although my mom left this world 13 years ago this November, the years we were separated by hospitalizations including some of the following: 1 year in Michigan 9 months after a Kidney Transplant and so many more.........prepared me for tomorrow. Each seperation prepared me for tomorrow, September 16, 2020 which will mark 200 days since I stepped foot in my Dad's nursing home and could talk with him in person. Although Covid-19 has robbed us a little over half year, we are both are blessed my mother who watches over us from above. Thank you mom, for the prep, it came in handy!

It's Been a While!

It's been a while, two years to be exact! 

 I created this blog a few years after my mother died as a place of reflection and continual remembrance of what she gave us. When I reflect on Covid-19 its impact so far, I am painfully reminded how it has robbed millions with precious time with their loved ones that can never be regained. Particularly for those who have love ones who were chronically ill or are chronically ill. If you live long enough you, we will have to painfully watch our loved ones' quality of life change. 

Over the past 6 months, I have often been angry at the fact that some seem to have no awareness of the pain COVID-19 has caused. I often wonder if we can forgive those that wanted a hair cut or to watch football when some of us could not see their loved ones for several months or could not be there in the final moments. Not sure if I can on this one. Especially since I haven't forgiven the time around my mother's death. 

I also wonder if my mom is there to receive the loved ones of my friends. Kind of a tour guide of Heaven who has been eavesdropping in on my phone, email, and text conversations. I do hope she does. I hope that see remind the newly entered that the illness that once trapped your body and/or mind was left on earth. 

I hope you let them know that they will visit their loved ones in butterflies and sunsets. 

I hope she lets them know their loved ones will be ok in time. For some, this time is longer and others it is shorter. 

This is dedicated to the numerous colleagues, peers, and students who have lost a loved one this year either to Covid-19 or not. Although the circumstances of my mother's death were quite different 13 years ago in that there was no pandemic. I do want you to know that I am here for all of you. 

One of the greatest gifts my friends and colleagues who knew me well were to understand that grieving is truly a process, unique to every individual, and lives with always. 

Things Not Seen: Part 2 (Health Scares)

My mom missed so much after she departed the land of the living and something she missed that I wish she was here for was the health scares I had after her death: Breast Tumor and Frozen Shoulder.
I am quite certain if she were alive when I when a tumor was discovered in my breast during my second mammogram that I ever had I would not have flipped out. I suspect she would have gently reminded me of my family history of benign breast tumors and that everything would be ok. Instead, I had two weeks of thinking I had cancer. Thinking that I would get very sick despite being a very healthy person.

She also missed when I was diagnosed with a Frozen Shoulder and a time in my life when I first felt helpless. Having her here would have made me feel better. She most likely would have cooked for me, did my hair, and possibly even spent the night with me the first few weeks after my shoulder locked. Thankfully, I did have people to help me but I would have loved to have the love of my mother to help me through.

Interestingly enough, her battles with physical and mental illnesses have taught me that we can survive most things. We can still live even when we are surrounded around a sea of chaos.

Things Not Seen: Part 1-A Reflection of the Beginning of a Loss

Today is the anniversary of the “beginning of the end” for my mother, Christiner W. Crosby, who on October 3, 2007 fell and shattered her right femur and hip while in the hospital. That day set in motion 30 days of me preparing to lose someone who you deeply loved. For the next 30 days, I will write about the things my mother missed. The first is quite painfully because I selfishly denied her the opportunity to see it in December 1995. I completed my Bachelor’s degree in the summer of 1995 and chose not to walk in the December commencement. My mother was very upset but I assured her that she would see me walk when I got my Masters. That never happened because she died six months before I completed my Masters degree. If I could go back and change that moment, I would.

Now I can only reflect on what could have been. If my mother were present for all three of my graduations: Bachelors, Masters, and PhD, she would have probably put out a full page add on Facebook to share her joy. I remember fondly when I entered Kutztown we were living at the Pike motel and I wasn’t sure if I should go to college. My mother encouraged me to go and get my education regardless of our families situation of having to live in transitional housing and not having a home. I am thankful that she did. Because of her and my father, I am a well educated woman who working in a field that I love: Early Childhood Education and I have had the opportunity to change the lives of children through helping my students become great teachers.

That said I will forever live with the pain of being selfish.