Time Spent with Loved Ones Is Never Long Enough

Dear Kim,

It's six years since you left this planet.  Today, November 14th.  It sounds selfish, but I'm grateful that it wasn't a week earlier, on my birthday.  It's still hard enough that it's so close.  I know many people lose loved ones on birthdays and holidays, or near them, which must make those days even more difficult than they already are.

Look at your smiling, happy face.  We all miss it so much.  We know you would want us to smile, laugh, live, and love, yet we are still struggling.  You touched so many lives - for the better, of course.  You had so many friends, who I am sure still love you and miss you terribly, like we in your family do, too.

I regret all the time we didn't spend together, because you were living far away, or because Dean and I were too tired to spend some Sundays when you lived here, etc.  I'm sorry for not letting you come out to dinner on Christmas Eve a couple of times with Dean's family because I was too worried about offending some who would be left out.  That was wrong of me.  No matter how much time we did have together, when someone is gone, you just wish for more.

I remember a lot of good times...

When you were around five years old, you and Juli dressed as Princess Leia and Han Solo, respectively.  I don't know if it was Halloween, or just for fun, but I wish I could find that photo right now.  Also around that time, you and I jumping in puddles during a rainstorm.  The three of us building forts in the living room, and going skiing (you and I taking turns going through each other's legs on a gentle hill at Alpine Valley).  The three of us girls and Mom all dressed in the same sundress (it was longer on you because you were small (they were stretchy on top and were one-size-fits-all)).  Me flying you like an airplane on my feet, and also flying you by one arm and one leg outside, too (you were always so fearless).

When you were around twelve years old, four of us in the family going to Austria.  You and I spending some time on our own, getting lost in Innsbruck, laughing with the waiter who laughed at you picking up half of a pizza to bite it, trying to get him to figure out which menu to give us (we only knew English well enough), singing songs (about pizza, arriving at the hotel, etc.) all around the town and laughing at Mum's funny jumping jacks/scissors walking/jumping move.  Then later, in our room, you singing your song from the musical you starred in.  I saw many of Juli's plays and musicals in later years, but I couldn't make it to that one of yours because I had no car.  You played Sleeping Beauty, but it was before cell phones and the preponderance of camcorders, so we have no record of it.

When you were around thirteen years old, all of us going to Jamaica, and you begging me to go to the beach, me being too lazy for sunscreen that day and getting burned, bright red, painful legs, and Mum putting aloe on them.

And then when you were an adult and moved back here again...

Laughing at your place on Sundays when your wonderful, silly Ethan was being so funny.  I worked hard cooking things for your special diet, so we could all eat together.  I cherish those Sundays.  There were too few of them.

Our time was all too brief, once you were back home.

I wish I could feel that carefree joy again.

Love,

Chris

Happy Mother's Day!

 

I drew this some years ago outside our side door for my mother-in-law and my husband's aunt (also like a mother to us) so they would see it when they went outside that day.

It's funny that I thought I was drawing a cat, because those ears looks more like bunny ears!

It's really a fun thing that kids can do and call it a "present" for their mom.

Anyway, this is my mum a few years ago, doing Tae Kwon Do:

 

She's just an amazing woman.  So strong, so loving and kind and helpful to other people, so smart.  I'm grateful that she's my mom.  That's why I wanted to do another blog and show some of her retro fashions from years back.  This is it:

 

http://christinabambinasmomsretrofashions.blogspot.com/

 

I've only put up a few photos so far.  I will do more when I find the time (or when I can find the photos).  I hope she likes it.

 

This is my sister Juli at her Tae Kwon Do black belt testing a few years ago:

 

 

I love the way her hair is swinging in this photo.  Another strong woman, both physically and mentally.  She's a great mom, too.  She works hard at both her paying jobs and all of the non-paid work that a good mom does.

 

On a Mother's Day weekend like this, we tend to think of the mothers who are still here and the mothers who are gone and that we miss.

 

Our late sister Kim is one mother who we miss, and her son misses her so, so much, too.  It's not fair that she's gone, or that any good mother is gone from a child's life too soon.

 

 

Anyway, Happy Mother's Day to all of the hard-working mothers out there who don't get enough credit for all that they do.  It's a very hard job, and I'm sure that most of the mothers don't get nearly enough credit for all that they do.  People tend to take it for granted, the love and the caring and all of the work, but really you should be getting thanks every day, not just on this one day.

 

Happy Mother's Day!

 

Christine

Spend Time With Loved Ones, While You Can

 

I decided to delete a few old emails last night.  I grouped the emails into who they were from, pulled down the scroll bar to look for a chunk of something to delete, and out of all of the tens of thousands of old emails I have (I really let them pile up), I landed on emails from my late sister Kim.  I didn't even remember that there were any from her in there.  They were only from about the last year of her life, and there weren't that many.

 

I started to copy and paste them into Word, since I feel we have so little left of her, not enough to hang on to.  Like I've said before, I feel I didn't pay enough attention to my two sisters (both younger than I) when they were little, and because of fatigue and health problems on my end, didn't stay in touch often enough even later. 

 

Kim was living elsewhere a lot (Madison and Portland) and I didn't like to talk on the phone (wears me out), and Kim didn't like to write much (or didn't have time), so we just didn't have much contact.  Even after she moved back here, I didn't see her much. 

 

I was surprised to see in the few emails I've moved so far, that much of it was me saying that we (my husband and I) couldn't attend various things, either because of fatigue, money, or because the gathering was too large for us (like, more than 5 people). 

 

I guess we just think we have all the time in the world, to be with people.  Even with the older relatives who used to be in this house with my husband and me, people who we spent a whole lot of time with, for many years, I still feel it's not enough now that they are gone.  I was just saying this to Dean the other day.  You always wish for more time, when people you love are gone.

 

Sure, we've had health difficulties and problems and excuses, but we should've made more time, somehow.  We shouldn't have let so many things stop us.  It's not good to have these regrets.

Remembering Kim's Memorial

 

I can't sleep, so I might as well blog.  Probably a common occurrence for some of us.

 

Sometimes we just can't help but think about our grief and pain more.  Like, when someone's birthday is coming up.  Kim's birthday would've been this Saturday.  She would've been 45 years old.

 

I was thinking (when I couldn't sleep) about our sister Kim's memorial service, almost three years ago.  Our sister Juli planned everything.  It was as beautiful as something like that could possibly be.  The food looked very nice (my husband Dean and I were too sad and nervous to eat), the music was nice, and the photos were great.  The problem was, if I looked at the photos that were being shown on the screen, I would burst into tears, so I only saw about 7 of them.

 

I was very nervous and sweating like crazy (probably not nice for some of the people I hugged that day).  I'm very nervous around people, so I didn't know what to say or do.  I know I probably said some stupid things.

 

People were asking me how my mom was doing, and I know that at least a couple of times, I said, "Well, her favorite daughter is gone, so she's a mess," or something like that.  The one time I said it, Juli was there, and said to me, "Oh, you're going to hell for saying that."  I didn't know what she meant by that, but I guess she thought I was trying to make a joke at an inappropriate time, so therefore earned myself eternal damnation?

 

Actually, I wasn't making a joke at all.  Mom just always was very obvious, to everyone, that Kim was her favorite daughter.  We all knew it.  I wasn't trying to be funny.  I was just trying to think of something to say when people asked me questions.  Of course, the people's laughter wasn't the raucous "aren't we having a ton of fun" kind anyway.  It was more the nervous kind that people get when situations are awkward or painful.

 

The woman who babysat me when I was very little, who is also named Chris, came to the memorial.  It was nice to see her, and relatives I never see, too, like my Uncle Dick and his wife Marianne.

 

Strangers, patients, and friends of Kim's were talking to me, saying how great she was.  Yes, I agreed, and tried not to cry in their face.  I actually did burst into tears a few times when patients who recognized me from photos asked if I was Kim's sister and told me how wonderful she was as a doctor, or when people I actually knew just came up to me and said they were sorry.  I probably should've just been watching it all from a video drone or something, thereby reducing my social anxiety to zero and eliminating the embarrassment of sobbing when people talked to me. 

 

Anyway, I don't really care about how stupid I seemed to anyone or how sweaty I may have been.  All that matters is that Kim is gone, and no one is happy about that, since everyone loved her.

 

I so appreciate the lovely memorial that Juli set up.  I don't know how she does it - she is younger than I am, yet so much stronger, more sane, and capable.  She's also prettier, more fun, and a lot of other good things, but let's not start any sibling rivalry!  Ha ha.

 

Seriously, though, Juli did such an excellent job, at a time when Mom wasn't up to handling things, and neither was I.  I know some people couldn't make it to the memorial, since Kim knew people from all over the country, but the people who were there (and there were pretty many), were all there trying to come together and honor her, which is what it was all about.

 

It's Kim's Birthday Soon

 

Our late sister Kim's birthday is coming up on Saturday (poor Juli has to DJ that day and try to be "up" and cheerful at work), so I've been thinking about Kim even more than I usually do these last few days.

 

I know this is a goofy-looking pic of her and I don't know what she was looking at, but it was from Christmas 11 years ago, so she looks healthy and happy, which is a great thing. 

 

My husband and I were watching an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond a couple of days ago and Ray Romano was playing the piano (it was really him) and he was very good. 

 

This brought to mind the time, many years ago, when Kim and I were at a piano playing and singing this song:

 

KEANE- Brothers Sherry

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HEhV_WBLKE

 

Even many of you who are old enough might not remember the Keane Brothers, but some of you might.  They were really talented singers and had a short-lived variety show that we watched back then.



 

The house we moved into after our parents divorced happened to have a piano.  No one ever played it much, that I can recall, but when I got this Keane Brothers album, we loved it so much that I bought the sheet music for that Sherry song and learned to play it, sort of (not great).

 

Of course, our sister Juli is the real singer in the family.  She's sung in plays and shows and even sang the Korean national anthem at a Tae Kwon Do tournament and everyone was so proud of her for learning it and singing it so beautifully.  If it was on YouTube, I'd post that link here, too.

 

Kim must've been a pretty good singer, too, since she did play Cinderella or something in a play during high school.  I didn't get to see it because I lived way across town and didn't have a car at that time.

 

I'm the worst singer in our family, but it hasn't stopped me from singing at various times, like singing along to video game songs when our nephew is playing different games on his new Mario Maker game (and he's shocked that I know all of the different "old school" tunes).  It did, however, stop me from singing when we were forced to be in the choir in junior high.  My friend Tammy told me around that same time that my singing really sucked (she was right), so in order to not throw anyone else in the choir off, I would lip sync all the songs (better for everyone all around, including the audience).

 

Anyway, this is just a fond memory of our little sis Kim, back in the day.  Me trying to play the piano and us belting out that song - Sherry.

 

I will miss her forever, of course.  Everyone who knew her always will.

 

Sometimes Grief is Never-Ending

This is an appropriate picture of our late sister Kim, because that is how I think of her - happy, bubbly, enjoying life.  I wish I could be like that.  I hope to be able to be that way someday again.  I used to be more like that, at times, before we had to deal with so much of this grieving.

It's also fitting that there is an angel in this photo (on Juli and Kevin's Christmas tree), because I think of Kim as being an angel now.  Many people who loved her thought of her as an angel even when she was here and alive.  She had so many friends and was so outgoing and fun and friendly.

I've probably said this before, but don't ever let anyone tell you that you are grieving wrong.  Everyone is different.  Some people may distract themselves or seem to move on quickly, or possibly even wish that you were doing the same.  Other people might want to think or talk about the person, or talk about feelings.  Whatever way you grieve is whatever is best for you at the time.

I worry so much about Kim's son Ethan.  Some of us adults are not coping well with this loss, more than two years after her passing, so how can a child understand and cope with it?  We talk about his mom when he wants to, and bring her up when memories occur, and we look at the beautiful book that my sister Juli made with photos and memories of Kim.  Most of the time, Ethan is trying to distract himself with video games and things, probably trying to not feel most of his pain.  I do the same things, too.

In my younger days, I experienced some losses that didn't feel very difficult, like the loss of grandparents I wasn't very close to, or other people I didn't have a strong connection to.  In recent years, though, there have been important and serious losses, like my sister very quickly passing away from cancer.  Other big losses have been my in-laws, and my husband's aunt, all of whom felt like real parents to me.  Plus, we all lived in the same house.  I feel that the grief over these recent, big losses will never really go away.  It seems to stay and stay, and continue to cause a lot of pain for my husband and for me (as Kim's loss also does for Mom and Ethan and Juli and others).

Grief isn't limited to just people, either.  My husband and I still feel grief over some of the most special cats we've had, too.  As anyone who has truly loved a pet knows, they are like little, furry people.  We love them and care for them and miss them a lot when they are gone.

I guess this is what getting older is like - dealing with loss after loss, if you are lucky enough to be someone who remains alive yourself.  It's a very hard thing.  Like I said in my previous post, I keep calling this compound grief.  It's as if each loss opens the previous wounds again, or as if the crack in your broken heart gets bigger each time.  Then you try to heal a bit, and experience another loss and it rips back open.  Each loss seems to remind us more and more of all of the others who are gone, and we aren't coping too well with it, at times.

We keep trying.  We keep setting goals, making plans, trying to live our lives, but as any grieving person knows, there are constant reminders that make you think of the people over and over.  Sometimes we have funny or happy thoughts or memories, but other times it's just painful.

It's not like I'm enjoying this continued blogging about grief, but I have these thoughts and they need to get out.  Writing these things makes me cry and it feels very hard, but maybe someone can relate to something that I say, and it might make them feel less alone, less odd.

Please be kind and gentle with yourself if you are experiencing grief.  Take care of yourself and give yourself credit for just getting through each day and doing the best you can.  It's such a difficult thing, especially for extremely sensitive and caring people.  Loving and caring about people brings us much happiness, but also pain.

I wish you peace and comfort and joy in the future.