A Garden of Memories...

Hello, it's Brenda back with another planted blog post. I was going to save this for next month, but I have something on my heart, that I wanted to share with you. Call this therapy, if you will. It has been a tough month. Let me try to explain in the next paragraph.

First on the 9th of this month, was 3 years since my oldest sister Sharon passed away. I am so grateful that we had that last visit over the phone, although I'm not sure she could really understand. She lived with a disease that takes your mind, Alzheimer's. I was able to tell her several times that I loved her during that visit. I guess that was my goodbye to her. I was unable to attend her memorial service due to COVID-19 and the fact that I live with 2 autoimmune diseases. It wasn't safe or wise for me to attend. I was able to see it afterward, as it was live-streamed. My most cherished memory is being photographed with her, as I was a flower girl at her wedding. I was 5 years old and still have the basket that I carried the flowers in. My garden of memories continues in the next paragraph. 

I think you understand where I'm going with this planted blog post. My mother who was the whole inspiration in starting this blog because of her love for gardening, is my next memory in this figurative garden. On the 31st of this month, it will be 12 years since my mother and best friend left this earth. I spent a better part of her last day at the nursing home by her bedside. She was no longer responsive, but I was told by several others that day, that I was right where I needed to be. That memory is still etched in my mind. It was a Tuesday and 2 days prior I was told it would not be long before she would pass. How do you even begin to process? I knew it was coming since we were told by our physician on March 30th. I was told over the phone while I was at work. I even had to go to a doctor's appointment that day after hearing the news. How do you even begin to cope and still move forward with life, even though she was not gone yet? Let me explain in the next paragraph. 

I had an opportunity to have several deep talks with her before she would pass. We became very close after the death of my father, which will be 16 years, August 3rd. She asked me to give her things to do, to make her feel useful. I understand that all too well. I need to be doing something of worth, not for the glory of it, but to feel like I'm a part of something and contributing. Getting back to my talks with my mother. I told her how much she meant to me. She was the only person who got my living with rheumatoid arthritis (RA) and she was my caregiver after my brain surgery. The tables were now turned and I was thrust into being her caregiver when it came to medical decisions, if she were no longer able to do so. It never really came to that until the end, when she lost her desire to eat and was down to 88 pounds. She started to see things that were not there, but she believed she saw them, so it was decided to medicate her, so she would not be afraid. I agreed that anything that would make her comfortable, was warranted. Thankfully, she was not in any pain until one day before she passed. They came in to turn her and she screamed out in pain. That would be the last time that would be allowed. They tried to do it the day she passed, but I refused to let them do it. She would be gone in a matter of days or hours, which was the case. She waited until I had left, as it was not long after, that I got the call that she had passed away 5 minutes before. The nursing home at that time was across the street from my apartment, so I walked back with her dress and what she would be buried with, so the funeral director would have it. My cousin helped me clean out her room. She was still there. She looked so peaceful. My best friend was gone and now I would have to try and navigate without her. I have kept my promise to live my life and grab what I want. She promised to always live in my heart. That meant giving me strength and courage when needed. I also believe, she left me the gift of writing poetry. I found out the day of her funeral, that she had written poetry. Why was I not let in on that little secret? My mother was a private person and I'm sure she destroyed it, as we never found any while going through her belongings. I've been missing her something awful, especially this week. I could tell her anything. We talked about my hopes and dreams. I still have them! We were in tune with each other on so many aspects, that's why she truly became my best friend. Continuing with another memory in the next paragraph. 

My sister Beverly or Bev, which she much preferred to be called, passed away on June 6th, almost 20 years ago. I remember that day so vividly as well. It was on a Friday and it was raining. I had gone to work earlier that day, as I had a premonition that something was going to happen. I did not know at this point, that she was dying, but she was jaundice when I saw her on Sunday of that week. I even told my mother, as she was driving me home, that I didn't think she would live much longer. She was actually admitted to the hospital again the next day and by that Friday she was gone. I called my phone at home and checked my messages. This was 20 years ago, so I still had an answering machine. My brother-in-law had left a message that she had passed away. I was not shocked but sad, my favorite sister was gone. Bev exhibited kindness to all she came in contact with. We had a heart-to-heart talk after her first surgery. She told me that she loved me and that I would always be her little sister. I was the youngest, so that was true. I believe she told me this while she was able, so there would be not regrets. I know she would be proud of me, as she would always encourage me to try new things. She also said I was patient, which she was not. Bev had what you would call an engaging giggle. It was like no other. This year has by far been the hardest for me, in remembering her. 20 years is a long time. She was only 54 when she passed away from colon cancer. She was the core of our family and when she left, we fell apart. I'm being forthright here. I said this was difficult to share, but it's therapy for me. 

I'm going to be taking off both May 31st and June 6th, as I know they could be difficult days for me. I have made plans for the 31st and will get together with a friend, who knew my mother and also when I shared the beginning of my sister's cancer journey. 

I've been crying more, call that weeping, as I have been evaluating these garden of memories. I have no family that I can connect with near by, so it gets lonely at times. I told you this was therapy. I have composed a poem that I think encompasses the whole essence of this planted blog post. 

I would like to leave you with; Like a Waterfall...

Brenda 💔💦