The Beginning of My Day – Dec. 4, 2011

It took me a week to edit this because there is so much going on caretaking for my mom. It doesn’t reflect how I feel today, but once I post the next video, you’ll see how each day can go here. For those of you not in the know, I left Alaska to Winter in Chicago, as my mom reaches her last days battling cancer. Thanks for your words of support, thanks for your virtual hugs, thanks for sending good vibes our way.

Happy Holidays from Chicago.

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2 Responses to The Beginning of My Day – Dec. 4, 2011

  1. eri says:

    Hey Marissa,
    I hear that you’re going through some hard things. I get that you want it to be easier… I feel you and understand that. But I don’t know if it can be made to be easier. I don’t know if anyone can. Sometimes, somethings, well, they just are really hard. Kinda sucks, but… truth. So I send you big hugs and thoughts of warmth and comfort. You are not just going through helping your mom, not just dealing with what you’re expecting of yourself and what you feel others expect of you, not just dealing with feeling helpless about the things you can’t help… you are trying to be mind-full and heart-full throughout, To stay aware, To stay conscious. To stay with you. To appreciate beauty, time, life as it happens… as it is… and as it an be. So I send you much appreciation for what you’re living. And hugs. Always hugs.

    • marissa says:

      Aw, thanks, Eri. Your note brought tears to my eyes. I feel your hugs. I smell your awesome veggie Japanese food cooking in the kitchen. You’re right. Maybe relief will come when I accept how truly hard this is. In fact, after a day of moping yesterday, I feel better. Still a little raw, still a little frayed around the edges, but better. Staying with me seems like the hardest part, in a weird way. It’s easy to let myself get sucked into a chasm of pain & madness. I cling to sanity, desperate for my head to be above water, even if for just a few moments at a time. But, feeling it all is the only answer to accepting the situation of watching my mom decline every day. Feeling the drowning is what will deliver me on shore. Today when I cried in the car on the way back from the nursing home, it wasn’t just grief, but fear of my own death. My mom has me & others to care for her. Who will I have when my time comes? It’s scary… Thank you for your hugs, dear one. Miss you & Anders a heap!

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