I MISS LUCY

It’s been awhile since I’ve written a Lucy post. I can think of no better way to celebrate Mother’s Day here in SMBland than to talk about Lucy, my beloved mother who died a little over 5 years ago. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss her more and more. So many things have happened in our lives in the past five years and it breaks my heart that she couldn’t share them with us. I don’t know how this Heaven thing works but I believe there is one and I like to think that Lucy has box seats and is watching over us all.

Lucy was one of a kind. Everyone thought so. Everyone loved her. She was smart, beautiful, funny and took GOOFY to a whole new level. The goofiness is what I loved most about her.

Lucy was married for seventeen years to my siblings’ father before she married my dad. Daddy was eleven years younger than Lucy. The age difference was never noticeable until Lucy was in her 80s and got sick. She was always very young looking and could run circles around women many years her junior including me. She had so much energy.

My mother got a kick out of shocking people. I should mention that Lucy moved to our small town in Indiana when she married my father. I think it’s fair to say that many people just didn’t know what to make of her.

Lucy loved to tell people that when she got married, her husband was only 9 years old. Of course she was talking about when she married her first husband and saying that her second husband was nine. Sometimes she would explain, sometimes, she didn’t bother and would just leave them wondering. She also liked to say, “My husband was eleven years old when I had my first child.” You can imagine the reaction she would get. And she loved it.

God, I miss her.

If you missed my previous Lucy stories and would like to read them, they are linked below.

A Strange Telephone Conversation

I Love Lucy

A Roadtrip with Lucy

Lucyisms – A Language all her own

I’m Fine – Really Just Fine

Lucy – Mother Extraordinaire

Whether you’re celebrating Mother’s Day or you’re not……………….I wish you the very best day ever.

Hugs and kisses,

SMB

A LOVE STORY......The Second Time Around

**Last week I jumped on the Spin Cycle. Sprite's Keeper assigns a weekly prompt and then issues orders to all who are willing to "Have at it!" This week's topic is Change. You can check all the other spins at Sprite's Keeper's site.**

After my mother's death, understandably, Daddy was depressed. After completely dedicating himself to taking care of her during her illness, he didn't seem to know what to do with himself after she was gone. Before Mom's illness, Daddy enjoyed fishing, tinkering with tools, gardening and helping friends with many neighborhood projects. After Mom died, he lost interest in pretty much everything. It was like he was just waiting to die also. We all tried to pull him out of it but he just wasn't the same.

He turned a corner while visiting his brother and sister-in-law in North Carolina. He met a friend of theirs that was visiting from California. They went out to dinner together and Daddy enjoyed himself for the first time in awhile. The lady friend, who we will call Louise, returned to California and Daddy came back home to Florida. They began to talk on the telephone. It was during this time that Daddy starting referring to her as "That Louise". You see, we have a dear family friend with the same name and he would use "That" to clarify about whom he was speaking. I found this quite humorous and began to give "That Louise" updates to my friends. Daddy and I are very close and he was very open with me about his budding friendship. It wasn't long before "That Louise" was making plans to visit Daddy in Florida. She stayed less than a week. He didn't sound very happy during our daily phone chats that week. He called me from the airport after her plane departed and left this message on my voicemail: "Free at last, free at last! Thank God almighty, I'm free at last!"

And that was the last we ever heard of "That Louise."

While Daddy and "That Louise" didn't quite hit it off, her visit did accomplish one thing: It made an announcement to the neighborhood, his family, friends and the community at large that the man was ready to entertain the idea of companionship.

It was about a week later that friends from across the lake came to visit and brought someone with them. I'm told that this couple, the Snowbirds, were coming to visit Daddy and while walking to their boat, they came across Miss Daisy who was doing some gardening. They asked if she would like to come along. They explained that they had a friend they thought she should meet. She politely declined. They persisted. She begged off saying she was dirty from gardening and it would take too long to get ready. The Snowbirds wouldn't quit. They were clearly on a mission. They were about to return to Indiana and couldn't leave without putting their matchmaking skills to the test. They insisted their friend wouldn't care that she wasn't wearing make-up or that she was a bit dirty. She eventually relented but insisted on at least combing her hair. And across the lake they went.

I try to talk to Daddy every day. I called that day during the Snowbirds' and Miss Daisy's visit. There was something in my father's voice when he said Miss Daisy's name that stuck in my head. A few weeks later, he called me. Alert! I call him every day to chat. If he calls me, there's a reason. He quickly dispensed with all the pleasantries and said, "I've been seeing someone."

"Miss Daisy?" I asked?

He was shocked. "How did you know?"

"I don't know, just something about the way you said her name a few weeks ago when she visited with the Snowbirds."

Daddy apparently called my sister and brother to make the announcement too. My brother, Smitty, the family gossip, wasted no time getting on the phone. "Did you talk to Dad? What do you think? Have you met her? Do you think they're having sex?"

At which point, I screeched into the phone, "Geez, Smitty, I don't know! And I don't want to know! Lalalalalalalalalalala Stop it! Not another word!"

The consensus of all the kids was that we were happy if he was happy.

The Snowbirds, as it turns out, have mad matchmaking skills. Miss Daisy and Daddy had so much in common, it was almost creepy. Let me count the ways:

1. Miss Daisy's husband died a little over a month after my mother died.
   
2. Both Mom and Mr. Daisy died from colon cancer.
   
3. They had the same doctor.
   
4. Daddy and Miss Daisy had never met before that visit but Miss Daisy and my mother were in the same women's' club.
   
5. Miss Daisy is from the same county in Indiana and she and Daddy know a lot of the same people.
   
6. Miss Daisy's brother worked with my father in Indiana.
   

Weird, huh?

A few weeks later, we drove up to visit Daddy. We were introduced to Miss Daisy briefly but she wasn't around much during our visit. The funny thing was that every time we couldn't find my father, he was outside on his cell talking to his girlfriend. It was a little strange. But it was clear that he was in much better spirits than he had been for over a year. I actually found it pretty funny. He was acting like a 16 year old boy.

It was a few months after that visit that Daddy and Miss Daisy came to visit us for the weekend at our home. I have to admit it was a little awkward watching my father swapping spit with his girlfriend on my couch. At one point, while walking thru the living room with a laundry basket, I joked, "Get a room!"

I have friends who have admitted that they wouldn't like it if one parent began dating after the other died. But seriously, why would you want your mother or father to be lonely? I would be lying if I said that it didn't feel a little like betraying my mother by accepting Miss Daisy in the beginning. But after getting to know her, I like her, I love her. I love that she makes my father happy. She's funny and warm and as sweet as can be. And she is nothing like my mother. For me, that's a good thing. It would be very weird if they were anything alike.

Daddy and Miss Daisy were married six months later in a quiet ceremony with no friends or relatives. My siblings and I were happy for them but at the same time, we didn't think that we wanted to be there. And we weren't invited they preferred a private ceremony anyway. They came to my house a few days later. MHS and D2 were in Indiana and D1 was away at college. I was their honeymoon entertainment. I'm quite the one man band, you know.

While they were visiting, we ran into a neighbor at the grocery store. I introduced my friend to my father and then stuttered……………….and this is my……………….My what? I barely knew this woman and while I liked her, at forty *cough* hmmm years old, I wasn't about to refer to her as my step-mother. At the same time, "my dad's wife" sounded a little cold. I already had the "my" part out of my mouth and then I followed it with "Daisy". And since then she has been My Daisy. I address cards to her as My Daisy and she signs them that way too.

It's been an adjustment for all of us, most certainly for Daddy and for My Daisy. But even their friends have slipped and called My Daisy by my mother's name. But life goes on. Things change. During my mother's illness, my father and I had a mantra: "The only thing we know for sure………….is that we don't know anything for sure."

Change is inevitable. It's the only thing that endures. Someone said that once and if it wasn't almost midnight, MHS wasn't harassing me to go to bed and I didn't have to get up for work tomorrow, I'd look it up but instead I'll leave that to you if you're interested.

And just to let you know that I'm not a complete slacker, I did look up this quote for you:

"Change is the constant, the signal for rebirth, the egg of the phoenix." Christina Baldwin

LAUGHTER TRULY IS THE BEST MEDICINE

A few days ago I mentioned that Sprite's Keeper does a thing called the Spin Cycle. Since I've been failing miserably at making it to Spin class at the gym, I thought I would take a shot at trying out a different sort of spin. You can check out Sprite's Keeper and other Spinners here.

This week's assignment is Laughter. This is a topic about which I am well-acquainted. It's an old cliché but laughter has always been the best medicine for me. It's how I deal with life's little complications.

Laughter during the good times; well, I suppose that everyone has that. I choose to handle the tough times with laughter as well. It's my way. There hasn't been a crisis in my life that I haven't managed to make light of in order to help me cope. It is by no coincidence that the name of this blog includes the words "Smart Mouth". Oh sure, over the years I've learned that not every single thought that goes through my head should be shared with the world. Realizing this one truth has probabaly saved my life. If I said everything aloud that goes through my mind I would most certainly be put in the hospital by some angry recipient of my "imagined" razor sharp wit or possibly even jailed. Believe me; I've got it that bad.

If you are a regular here, you've heard me tell many stories about my mother, Lucy. Living through her illness was one of the worst things that my family has ever been through. I had been away from My Harley Stud and the girls for long periods while I helped my Dad take care of Mom. The night that my mother died, MHS drove up with the girls so the family could be together. Plans were made to have a service in Florida and another in Indiana the following week. That night in bed he told me that his long-suffering stomach issues had been getting worse over the last few months and when we got back from Indiana, he should probably see a doctor.

**Alert the media! The man wanted a doctor appointment! I had only been suggesting this for YEARS! MHS had been having episodes of extreme stomach pain for probably three years or so (usually after over-eating at holidays or special occasions.)**

I was relieved that he was finally willing to see someone about this problem but of course we had some other things to attend to first.

Ironically, my mother in law, whom I will call Millie, was going through the same thing with her mother at the same time twelve hundred miles away in Indiana. My Harley Stud's grandmother died on the day of my mom's service in Florida. Our plans were quickly changed so that we could make it to Indiana in time for the MHS's grandmother's service also.

My father-in-law, whom I will call Phil, joined Daddy, MHS, D1, D2 and myself for a road trip to Indiana. If you're a long-time reader, these Beverly Hillbilly type road trips will not come as a surprise to you. We made it to Indiana just in time to get showered and dressed for the visitation services for MHS's grandma. The funeral was the next day. It was heart-breaking and our pain was way too close to the surface. It didn't take much to break us so humor was used as a way to divert our emotional melt-down. We visited with relatives we hadn't seen in years and laughter was all around.

As is the tradition in the Midwest, a carry-in dinner was held at a local hall after the services. MHS could hardly contain himself; he was so excited to get to eat these home-cooked Midwestern dishes. His plate was filled a few times and then came dessert. As he was eating a piece of pecan pie, I commented that if he had a stomach attack that evening, I would not feel sorry for him. Just then a late-comer walked in with a pan of home-made lasagna. MHS's eyes lit up. I gave him "the" look. Lasagna is an all-time MHS favorite. He began to waiver. I shot him "the" look again. And because he knows there will be consequences when you ignore "the" look, he began to shake in his dress shoes walked right over to the table and dished himself up a heaping portion. I gave him my best stern look, rolled my eyes and once again reminded him that there would be NO sympathy that evening when his stomach exploded.

It was about 9pm that evening as he was watching TV at Beauty's house that the volcano began to erupt. The pain increased quickly and my "I told you so's" were not well-received. At about 10pm he asked me to call my boss who is a breast surgeon by specialty but is in fact a board certified General Surgeon. I related his symptoms to her and she diagnosed from 1200 miles away that it could very well be gallbladder trouble and he needed to go to the emergency room right away.

Now we had just survived the first funeral and were facing another in just a few days. A little trip to the ER was just what we needed to make our trip complete. Of course he refused to go and we spent the night with him vomiting, writhing in pain alternated with me asking "are you ready to go yet?" He was clearly in a lot of pain but since he wasn't listening, I had no problem interjecting smart mouth remarks between helping him to and from the bathroom. Finally at 5am, he begged asked me to drive him to the hospital.

We were in a small town and the nearest hospital is in the next town about 15 miles away. I got him into my Dad's SUV and began the journey on icy roads to the hospital. It wasn't until we were already in the next town that I discovered a little problem. I was born and raised in this area. In fact, I was born in the hospital to which we were traveling. But I couldn't remember how to get there. It was early and I didn't want to disturb anyone unnecessarily. (I'm nice like that) I began to giggle as I followed those blue "H" signs searching for our destination. Between fits of pain, MHS looked up and asked what I was giggling about. I told him that I couldn't remember how to get to the hospital. Oddly enough, he wasn't nearly as amused as I was with this revelation. Men! Hmpfff.

We made it there without any real detours. (Thank you, little blue sign makers.) The emergency room thankfully was not busy and they took him into triage right away. We were quickly whisked into a curtained room with a gurney. It was about this time that my own stomach began to react to the stress. I should maybe save this for one of LiLu's TMI Thursday posts but I have this little problem. Everyone reacts to stress differently. Some people break out in a rash, others lose their hair and some get ulcers. During any crisis, you can find me……………..in the bathroom. It's not like I can control it. So the ER doctor comes in and does a quick exam on MHS. At this point, I can wait no longer and excuse myself to find the nearest restroom.

After taking care of my business, I return to find that MHS is missing. I couldn't help it. I began to laugh. Just my luck. Not that healthy sort of chuckle when you find something amusing but instead that maniacal laugh you hear just before the basket is dropped. Eventually a hospital employee found me and informed me that MHS had been taken for an ultrasound. They instructed me to wait in his curtained cubical all the while giving me "the eye" that said "What are you laughing about?"

He was eventually returned to me and after a short while, we were told that he indeed did have a bad gallbladder and they were going to admit him. A surgeon had been called in to consult but in the mean time they would move him out of the ER and to a room on the surgical floor. Once again, my stress levels soared and I had to quickly excuse myself. Upon my return, he was gone……….AGAIN! This time I was able to catch up with them in the hall. Again, I was getting strange looks from medical staff members who thought I was either an uncaring bitch or a possible psyche patient posing as this patient's relative. By this time, he had been medicated heavily for the pain and could not be relied upon to identify me. They continued to watch me with wary eyes.

I really don't remember all the details of the following days. The surgeon showed for the consultation and confirmed that surgery needed to be done immediately. MHS was prepped and whisked away once again. By this time I was joined by family members and friends. In fact, the pastor joined us in the OR waiting room to pray for MHS and plan my mother's services. Yes.we.did. We sat in the waiting room while MHS went under the knife and planned a beautiful memorial service for my mother. There was a lot of nervous laughter going on, believe me. It was surreal. I couldn't believe it was happening and yet what can you do? You have to soldier on through it. I would like to be able to comment here about how other family members were making out but honestly I was so consumed with my own anxiety and just trying to keep it together, I didn't even notice. As I look back, I feel for my poor children who must have been scared to death. And there I was hanging by a thread, oblivious to their pain. In fact, if I remember correctly, they were comforting me. D1 was a freshman in college and had just turned 19. D2 was in the eighth grade and was 13. Bless their hearts.

I've worked for surgeons for years and while it's different when it's your own family member, I probably wasn't as anxiety ridden as others might have been………….until……………..the surgery took much longer than expected. When the surgeon finally came in to tell us how it went, they had to pry me off the ceiling. It seems that MHS's gallstone was larger than most people's entire gallbladder. He said there was no doubt that he must have suffered quite a bit before getting to this point. Stupid.Stubborn.Man The poor dear.

He was still pretty much out of it when they rolled him back into his hospital room. The Daytona 500 was held that day. The nurses were discussing the winner. It was revealed that Dale, Jr had won and we were all assured that he had survived the surgery when he groaned, "Oh God!" He is not a Dale, Jr. fan. Again laughter broke through the stress and the worry that we were all feeling. The wonderful medical staff at the hospital provided MHS with a morphine pump so that he could control his pain himself. I was given strict instructions that he was to control the pump himself and I was not to touch it. I should mention at this point that the man relies on me to manage his medical care. He doesn't take an Advil unless I say it's OK. It's how we roll. Needless to say, I controlled the pump when they weren't looking. And he was a kinder, gentler MHS. He had a permanent smile on his face during the entire stay. If he got a little cranky, I would smile and press the button. Voila! Problem solved. Everybody wins. Bwahahaha.

Coincidentally, a cousin delivered a slightly pre-mature baby at this same hospital during this time. When the stress would become unbearable, you could find me at the nursery window. A sure-fire stress reliever. :)

I stayed in his room with him the entire stay. We had hospital connections who arranged it so he wouldn't get a room-mate for his semi-private room and I was able to stay over-night with him to push his button. He was released a few days later just in time to attend my mother's services at the church. I won't go there again but you know how difficult this was. More visiting and laughing. As I look back, it's the only thing that kept me from falling off the edge.

We laughed again when it came time to write an excuse note for D2 to return to school. "Please excuse D2 from school from this date to that date. Her grandmother died, her great-grandmother died and her father had emergency surgery 1200 miles from home." Who would believe that?

***I realize that this post is not really funny and apologize if that is what you were expecting. I guess I should probably also apologize for its length as well but once I got started, it just kept pouring out and I couldn't stop it. Laughter. It's the best medicine.***

If you're still here, here's a little something for hanging in there for this painfully long post:

LUCY, MOTHER EXTRAORDINAIRE

Today is the five year anniversary of the day my mother, Lucy, died. (If you're new to this blog, I should explain that Lucy was not her real name) Oh, God, I miss her. There were so many things that I wanted to do today to honor her memory but now that the day is here………I'm struggling just to keep it together. I'm in a puddle and let me tell you this: Lucy would have NONE of that. She would give me a swift kick in the arse and say, "SNAP OUT OF IT!"

When Lucy was told that her cancer had spread to her lymph nodes and she would have to have chemotherapy treatments. Do you know what the first thing out of her mouth was? "Great! Maybe I'll lose my hair and they'll let me play for the Pacers." Apparently she had some confusion about the qualifications required to be drafted into the NBA. However, if allowed to join the team, she would have made a huge contribution to turning around their reputation. And I'm sure that some of them would most certainly have gotten a swat with that belt she kept in a kitchen drawer for just that purpose. Life lesson #1: When life gives you lemons………give 'em the raspberries!

When it became clear that the chemotherapy was not working, Hospice was called in. The local Hospice organization has a strict policy that a new patient will be visited within twenty-four hours of being admitted to the program. An appointment was set for 2pm the next afternoon. We received a call around 1:50pm that the Hospice nurse was running a little late with another patient and wouldn't be able to be there until 4pm. Lucy, who was in a great deal of pain at the time, knowing that the nurse would bring relief, said, "Tell her to come tomorrow. The Cubs are playing at 4 and I'm not going to miss it." They stressed that it is their policy to visit the patient within twenty-four hours but Lucy didn't care about their policies. The Cubs were were going to the playoffs. Life lesson #2: A girl's gotta have her priorities.

A few weeks later out of the blue, Lucy asks me to go through her underwear drawer and throw everything away. At that point she was wearing a hospital gown and couldn't tolerate the elastic of panties around her waist. I thought this was a little odd. But I did it. As I look back this was the only time that Lucy came close to acknowledging to any of us that she wasn't going to survive the battle. I have no idea why it was so important to her to take care of this little task when there were so many more important things to do but this was her wish. I was happy to indulge her in whatever gave her any pleasure or peace.

Earlier that year, my father had bought Lucy a laptop for her birthday. She got sick shortly after that and had barely used the new computer. At the time, I was travelling to their house every weekend. I would work 4 days and spend the next three at my parents' home. One day she asked me to pick up a case for her laptop. I had no idea why she thought she needed a case but I said that I would get one. Week after week I would travel the 200 miles back and forth. Each week, she would ask if I got the case yet. I told her that I hadn't had time. I was trying to take care of my family in the four days that I was home, work a full-time job and then spend every weekend away from home. It was a little stressful and frankly, I just blew off her request because I KNEW that she had no use for a laptop case. But she persisted. I had to bite my tongue not to snap at her, "Why the hell do you need a case for your damn laptop! You don't even wear underwear!" I had this cartoon vision in my head of her running down the street carrying her briefcase and wearing her hospital gown with her bum flapping in the breeze.

Eventually Lucy's pain became so uncontrollable that she was admitted to the Hospice Care Center. This was the best thing that could have happened. Having 24 hour care to control her pain was exactly what she needed.

I drove up the day she was admitted. Feeling a little guilty, I stopped along the way to pick up the laptop case she wanted. She had been very specific about what to get too. She wanted lots of pockets to stash things. She wanted slots so that papers could be kept organized. I just looked at her with that "What the…….." look that I'm famous for. Upon my arrival at the care center, I handed her the new case eagerly awaiting the pleasure it would give her. She barely looked at it. She thanked me and said to put it in the closet. She never even looked to see that it had all the features she had requested. I was more than a little confused and disappointed.

We had no idea at the time but the staff at the care center didn't think Lucy would make it through the night. Lucy was a lot of things but predictable was not one of them. She was always full of surprises. That was October 31^st.

It's important to point out here that my employer was the driving force that allowed me to neglect my responsibilities and remain with my mother where I belonged. My boss told me that she didn't care what was neglected as long as the money kept coming in so that she could remain in practice. I am responsible for all the billing in our practice. Hospice set me up with an internet connection. Work was faxed, mailed and hand-delivered to me by co-workers and my boss who would drive up to visit my mom. I was able to keep all the billing up to date and the rest……………..well, it just had to wait. Believe me; I know how fortunate I am to be employed by such a loving and generous woman. This is the reason that even when she drives me completely mad, I remain in her employ. Loyalty, compassion and generosity like that are rare.

I didn't own a laptop. Mom's laptop that she had asked for but never used became the sole reason that I was able to remain with her and still fulfill my work responsibilities. And that laptop case………………the one with all the pockets and file slots………………..yeah, that one. It sure came in handy to keep my work organized.

Say what you will, but I believe that was God working through my mother to give me what I needed so that I could do what I had to do. Life lesson #3: Things are not always as they appear.

I’M FINE, REALLY JUST FINE (A Lucy Story)

Do you watch the Ghost Whisperer? I'm somewhat of a new fan to this program but really enjoy it. Do you think we can communicate with the dead? Can they leave us messages? Do our loved ones who've gone before us watch over and protect us? These are questions that I can't answer but I assume when I get to heaven (God willing….literally) that it will all become clear. Until then, I'm going to choose to believe that even though my mother, Lucy, died almost five years ago, she still watches over me.

Lucy died from colon cancer. It was without a doubt, the most difficult time in my life to date. Our family was fortunate that we had many friends and family members who came to visit, called to give encouragement and were there for us during this heart-breaking time. Eventually the formalities that we all practice became humorous to me. People would greet me by saying, "How are you?" I would answer, "Fine." Of course, I wasn't really fine. I would giggle to myself. OK, I didn't actually giggle. It was just a little game I played in my head.

You see, months before Lucy became ill; I had been in church listening to a guest speaker. He spoke of how we all greet people by asking how they are, never meaning for them to really tell us. We just expect them to say "fine" so we can move on. He went on to say that most of us are hurting in some way but will still answer that question by saying "fine."

He then proceeded to give the word fine as an acronym.

F=fearful

I=insecure

N=neurotic

E=…………..uh…………………..Damn, I can never remember E.

Each time a friend would ask me how I was doing. I would answer that I was fine. But in my head, I was reciting that I was F.I.N.........E?????? And then I would go on racking my brain to remember what the E was for.

After Lucy passed, I was going through some of her things. I came across a church bulletin from my church. I should mention here that my parents live 200 miles north of where I live so we did not attend the same church. When I opened the bulletin, I saw that it was from that same day when we had the guest speaker and there in my mother's handwriting were the letters:

F=fearful; I=insecure; N=neurotic; E=emotional!

That's it! I couldn't believe that I had forgotten it. No matter how hard I had tried, I couldn't remember what the "E" stood for. Mom to the rescue, once again. I didn't even remember that she had been with me in church that day. But there it was in black and white, the answer for which I had been searching.

I smiled and thanked her with tears in my eyes. But they were happy tears. Because at that moment, I knew that Lucy was still watching over me. Like every mother does for her child. And I believe she always will.

Have you had a similar experience?

I’M IN A PUDDLE AGAIN

***Note to family members***

You may want to walk away right now and come back later. If you choose to stay, get a box of tissues and settle in. Don't say I didn't warn you.***

Recently I spoke of Thistle's challenge to us all to remember to give back, lend a helping hand this holiday season. I loved this idea. While every year I have good intentions of doing something special, the reality is that I usually get so bogged down with my Christmas to do list caught
up in the excitement that I never seem to find the time to accomplish that particular goal.

It's been almost five years now since my beloved mother, Lucy, passed. I miss her more everyday and even after five years will find myself in a puddle at the most inopportune times because of something said that brings back a cherished memory or just a thought that goes through my befuddled head. This tends to leave grocery cashiers, business colleagues, even family members staring at me with the bewilderment and a "What did I do?" look on their face. My Harley Stud has become accustomed to these episodes. While he still initially gets that dear in the headlights look worried that he's in trouble for something again, after a second the lightbulb goes on in his head and he just nods and gives me a hug. This sometimes results in tears in his eyes too. (But don't ever tell him that I told you that because I'll just lie and say I didn't.)

There are so many things I want to say but let's face it, neither you nor I have a lot of extra time right now and the last thing we all want to see is a really long, rambling blog post. Sorry, just sayin'…….. So, I will try to keep this brief. I have been putting off writing this post because even now as I write, the tears are flowing. But today is my birthday. And I can think of no better way to celebrate the anniversary of my birth than to honor the woman who made it all possible. Well, I'm pretty sure Daddy had something to do with it too. *wink*

Lucy died from colon cancer. It was a long battle. But that's not what I want to talk about today. Or any day. There came a time when Lucy's pain became so unbearable it was not possible to manage her care at home. She had the good fortune to be admitted to the Hospice Care Center in North Florida. The care given at this facility was so far and away above anything I have come to expect in the medical field that it would be impossible for me to convey just how much I think of this facility and its staff. Let it suffice to say for now that the people who choose to work for Hospice are a special kind of people and they are the cream of the crop. It is not an easy job that they do and yet they perform their duties in the most efficient, professional and compassionate way imaginable.

I have wanted to find a way to express my gratitude to Hospice since we lost Lucy. The problem has been that I just didn't think I could follow through without falling apart. And since the idea is to give back to them and not to have them comforting me in my puddle, I just keep letting it go. So when Thistle put her challenge out to bloggersville showing that together we can make a difference on a much larger scale, I knew just what I wanted to do.

The Plan:

The plan has two parts:

The first part is pretty easy. I feel confident that I can accomplish this task with little or dare I be optimistic and say no tears. I've been posting recipes of my traditional Christmas treats that I give out every year. I am going to make and take trays of treats to the local Hospice Care Center for the staff to enjoy. Our local center is not the one where Lucy stayed but they do great work there. And I have a plan in the works to visit the center in North Florida during the coming year as well.

The second part could prove to be a LOT little more difficult emotionally. I plan to inquire if there are any patients or patient family members residing in the center who do not receive visitors. And then go visit. I may offer to read to them, just sit and visit, or I could bring my toy microphone and sing Christmas carols. (I kid, I kid, I know that no one wants to hear me sing.) D2 has offered to go with me. That should make things a little easier. D1 won't be home yet at the time we are planning to go.

This particular part of the project is very close to my heart. During the time that Lucy was in the Hospice Care Center, Daddy and I became residents there too. We ate, slept, showered and I worked there (at my job remotely-not for Hospice)from Oct 31^st of that year until late January of the next year. I can't begin to tell you how important visitors were to our sanity. And we were so very blessed to have visitors EVERY.SINGLE.DAY. Without them, I would probably still require medication five years later. I mean there is only so much Animal Planet (Lucy's preference for tv watching during that time) you can watch. My parents had neighbors and friends from church and around the lake that would come every day. We had relatives fly in from all over the country. My entire office including my boss came at different times. My in-laws drove four hours to visit with us. I had friends who made the long drive up just to let us know how much we were loved. It is a testament to how great a person Lucy was that so many made it a priority to take the time to be there with us when we needed them so badly. We laughed and carried on like you wouldn't believe. We were embraced with a love that is so big that it is still so hard to put into words.

I know that not every patient and patient family is as fortunate to have the type of support that we had during that very difficult time. For whatever the reason many are left alone for this journey. Daddy has since remarried a wonderful lady who I call Daisy here in my blog. Oddly enough, Daisy was going through the same battle with her husband's colon cancer at the same time just a few miles away from us. Daisy had the support of Hospice care givers but did not have the support system that we were blessed with. It is Daisy's story and the idea that there are many others that haunts me. It is a very small gesture but if I can make even a small difference to one or two or three, it would mean the world to me. And of course more importantly, it will hopefully make a difference to them. I mean who wouldn't want a visit from a Smart Mouth Broad, right? I'm blogging about it because if there is a reader out there who reads this and feels so inclined to join me in my mission or create a mission of your own, I want to encourage you to do so.

These contributions are small, I know. But I hope to be able to continue throughout the year and not just during this Christmas season. I would love to hear about it if you are doing something to give back to your community or globally. Some people prefer to keep their contributions confidential and I respect that. Me, I'm a bit of a blabber mouth but hope that maybe I might be an inspiration to others to do something that is meaningful to them.

Together we can GO MAD. Make A Difference!

***Note***

I know I said I was going to try to keep this brief. Once I got started, I just couldn't shut up. (Big SURPRISE!) Sorry. And thanks for taking the time to read this self-indulging therapy session.

SHUT UP AND PRAY (A Roadtrip with Lucy)

Several years ago, Lucy, aka my mother and I went on a roadtrip together to visit my sister, Snips. I have a few tidbits from the trip that I would like to share with you. My fond memories of Lucy (and there are many) are the treasures I keep close to my heart. They help to ease the pain of losing her far too early.

Lucy had an extraordinary bladder. The woman could drink water the entire trip and never need a bathroom break. I, on the other hand must have the weakest bladder on the planet. It's legendary. If I'm in the car, you need to factor in additional hours to the trip for potty stops. I can't help it. It's not my fault. OK, it probably doesn't help that I can't get in the car without a drink of some sort but I get thirsty, ok? Lucy, clearly annoyed with stopping for the umpteenth time, said to me, "Listen, Smart Mouth, if you would just start peeing in the yard, you could be the solution to the drought we are having."

I'm a little near-sighted. I wear glasses or contacts to correct my vision. But sometimes I just go without correction. Let me explain that I'm not endangering anyone's life by flying blind. It's not that bad. I just can't read signs until I'm right on top of them. It's my turn to drive and Lucy is in the passenger seat. I see what appears to be a dead dog on the side of the road. I say out loud, "Oh, no. I hate to see that." Lucy looks up and asks what I'm talking about. "That dead dog." Lucy starts to laugh. I'm appalled at her lack of compassion. Then as we get closer, it is revealed that it's a strip of rubber from a blown out truck tire. For the rest of the trip, Lucy would taunt me every time she saw a piece of rubber saying, "Oh no, look Smart Mouth, there's another one." And if the piece was small, she would say, "Awww, it's a puppy."

It was now Lucy's turn to drive. We were in downtown Atlanta. It was evening but traffic was still heavy. People were weaving in and out like maniacs. Lucy, who was more accustomed to country driving clearly was not happy. At one point, another driver cut her off. She said, "Asshole!" You need to understand that Lucy didn't swear often. When she did, it was always comical because it was so out of character. Trying to keep a straight face, I told her that just the previous Sunday I had learned in church that when you want to say something unkind, you are supposed to just shut up and pray. Lucy, a woman of faith herself, took one look at me, raised her eyebrows and said, "OK, I'm gonna shut up and pray that asshole doesn't cut off anyone else!"

I miss you, Lucy! MUAHHH!

I LOVE LUCY

Note: The last time I mentioned my mother in this blog it caused quite a ruckus in my family unbeknownst to me at first. My brother, Smitty, who lives on Maui, doesn't read this blog. However his friend, Pualani does. I wrote about having a conversation with my mother in a dream and how heart-warming it was to hear her voice. Pualani shared this with Smitty who promptly called my sister, Snips, in Indiana. He suggested an intervention might be in order as he thought I had dropped my basket because I was hearing voices or at least THE voice of our dear and departed mother. Snips told him she would check out the blog and get back to him. She read it and realized that I was talking about a dream and not hearing voices and assured him that I wasn't in any danger of visiting the funny farm any time soon. Smitty, not completely convinced, called me and said, "What is this b.o.l.g. thing you're doing? Are you OK? You're not going off the deep end, are you?" GEESH! Well, Smitty and Snips, here I go again. I hope you enjoy reminiscing about Mom as much as I do and will not call out the guys in white coats just yet.

I would like to introduce you to Lucy. Lucy is my mother. Lucy is not her real name. Lucy has been gone now for four and a half years. I thought long and hard about what to call Mom on this blog. Like many, I choose to rename my friends and family for the sake of some sort of anonymity. I've chosen the name, Lucy because to describe her to someone who has never met her, my best attempt would be to liken her to a cross between Lucille Ball's character in I Love Lucy and Grace Kelly. She was more Lucy than Princess Grace especially in her later years but there was a definite sophistication and grace to her that was always evident even through her antics. Lucy was a unique individual. I always knew this but it was never more evident than when I listened to countless stories at her memorial services. As children, we view our parents from our perspective only, who they are as a parent. Listening to her friends and mine, I had the opportunity to really see who she was outside of my parent box that I kept her in and how she affected so many others.

Memories of Lucy provide me with a smile daily and usually several times a day. She was so loved and so much a part of my life that even now as I write this, I am having trouble seeing the screen through my tears….four and a half years later.

I have in my heart a wealth of Lucy stories. Don't worry, I won't lay them all on you at once. But if you will allow me to (and if you don't I'll do it anyway….it IS my blog) I will share them with you one or two at a time every now and again. I hope you will enjoy them. I hope that you will come to love her too. I wish you could have met her. She would have been the quintessential blogger. Of this, I am sure. And she would have been my biggest fan.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, Lucy, Mother Extraordinaire!

When my mother married my father, she was a recent divorcee, a mother of 3 teenagers and a city girl. My father moved her to his small hometown in Indiana. My mother was a little goofy and her humor was sometimes lost on the very traditional women of our little town.

When I was in the fourth grade, my cousin came to live with us. It was her senior year in high school. She loved to sew. She would sew her own clothes. She would sew clothes for me and my Barbies. One day after several trips that same week to the Ben Franklin store to buy sewing supplies for my cousin, my mother was once again there buying fabric. While the two clerks were measuring and cutting, Lucy started up a conversation. She said, "Sew, sew, sew! All that kid wants to do is sew. You'd think she would go out and smoke pot like the rest of the kids but noooooooooooo, all she wants to do is sew."

It's a small town. I think they're still talking about it.

A TERRIBLE LOSS

My friend in the blogosphere, The Nana Diaries, has suffered a terrible loss. Her sister was killed in a car accident. Please visit her site. Watch the video celebrating the life of a very talented and much loved woman. Send her your love and support and I ask that you keep this family in your prayers.