earlier this month, i was having dinner with two of my most excellent friends. it was an unseasonably warm october night in chicago and we were sitting on a moonlit deck, talking about everything from men to motherhood to shoes. i found it funny when one friend said that my mom had made everything about her children. she was talking about mom's innate vocation of motherhood.

it actually made me laugh. and i couldn't put my finger on it at the time...but weeks later, when i was talking to magee about it, she seemed to say it best when she said, "it wasn't until i was well into adulthood that i realized that motherhood was not mom's thing."

she was definitely not june cleaver. as a child, i can clearly remember that she was overwhelmed with the whole situation. she was drowning in chauffeuring duties. in a fit of frustration, she washed my yellow uniform skirt with maura's green bookbag and i wore a green skirt for four years. she tried to discourage the last major move i made because it would have been more convenient for her if i had stayed in l.a. at the time so she could visit buzzy and i in the same city. our house was a breeding ground for dust bunnies. she made mashed potatoes with powder from a box. at the end of one visit to buzzy and i in los angeles, while she was at l.a.x. waiting to board a flight to d.c., she got a call from buzzy saying julie had gone into labor with the twins. she got on the plane anyway. when i asked her about it, she said that babies "scared" her.

like magee, when i reached adulthood, i came to fully understand that she had her own, very distinct, non-mother identity.

this is not to say that she wasn't a brilliant mother, because she definitely was. but it definitely wasn't effortless for her.

i'm missing her so much now as i wrestle with some big decisions. but when i ask myself what she would do if she were here, it would be easy to romanticize things and picture her saying just the right thing at the right time. sometimes she did. and sometimes she didn't.

but here's the thing...the last time i made a big decision...it wasn't what she had suggested. but once i told her what i had decided, she went from "i don't think that's the best idea" to "how can i help you do that" in less than 60 seconds.

i can't write about the specifics my current struggles until i have all of my ducks in a row. but i can say that i've figured things out and i've made a decision and that when i finally flipped the switch, i started to sleep much better.

then, earlier this week, i had my first vivid dream about her. it was so real. and in my dream i kept challenging her...asking her if she were really there. because it wasn't like a regular dream. it was as if she had come back to me to assure me that everything was going to be okay. she was her 68 year old self..but without the cancer. with a raspberry colored sweatshirt on. and i saw her beautiful smile and the love in her eyes and i felt her hug in my dream as clearly as if she were physically in my presence. she kept assuring me that it was real. she was real. and it felt so incredibly real. she came back to me. just to assure me that she is still here with me and that i will be okay.

it was glorious.



the mechanics of motherhood were never her forté...but the unconditional love and her constant, unwavering advocacy for the the people she loved..those things were in her bones.

she was perfect in her imperfections.

my work situation is a conundrum. i have a love/hate relationship with it right now. (okay, "hate" is too strong of a word...perhaps love/dislike is more accurate.)

i love the people and the work. our latest Jeep spots make me smile every time i see them.





on the flipside, i really dislike being pulled in 17 directions at one time and owning all of the problems without the benefits of ownership. i dislike being so worn down by my work that when i get time for myself and my family, i have nothing left to give.

i need to figure out what's best for me.

mummy was so good at riddles. i miss her so much.

you expect those "i should call mummy" moments to dissipate as time goes on, and then you learn that things just aren't that linear.

a year has passed

and i just didn't want that to happen. i was dreading this almost as much as i am dreading christmas. christmas will be the first anniversary of mummy's last full day on earth.

i couldn't put my finger on the exact nature of my dread until a few weeks ago. gabrielle suggested i read "the year of magical thinking." in it, joan didion chronicles the first year after the death of her husband. gab had just finished it and thought that it echoed some of the things i had been saying to her.

and it all made sense.

because, as irrational as it may seem, somewhere in the back of my head i still have this feeling that this can't be true. and when i look up and see that it has been a year since we got the call and hopped on the red-eye, a little voice inside my head says "oh my god! she isn't coming back."

i know that seems bizarre. but it's true. there's a part of me that still has not accepted that this is final. the passing of a year seems to rub the reality of this in my face.

yesterday was a very good day for us. uncle jude has been on a waiting list for a kidney transplant for quite some time and yesterday he finally got his new kidney.

at one point today, megan forwarded me an e-mail update from sheila. in it she noted that the hospital staff was looking after Aunt Mary Anne while she looks after Uncle Jude. she said, ""Mom has a barcalounger to sleep in. I told her to ask for anything she needs...they had already offered her something to drink! Good. Maybe time for a whiskey sour? Go and Aunt Missy are up there sipping theirs now...keeping an eye on this." and i felt a huge pang in my gut. all i could think was "oh my god...she's really gone." it still catches me by surprise. how crazy is that? how crazy is it that after all this time, i still wake up on saturday mornings and wonder what she's doing and then remember that she's gone.

if she were here today, she'd be up early in the morning and on her way to georgetown to have her sister's back. and she'd be teasing uncle jude about his drafty hospital gown and celebrating his brand new kidney.

i do feel her looking out for us. and as clearly as if she were here, i can picture her pure joy for uncle jude's good news. but i just want to feel the soft skin of her cheek and see the sparkle in her eye.

if i could just fall asleep, maybe i would see her in my dreams. maybe i will see her with GoGo drinking whiskey sours.

today was the anniversary of the last normal day.

a year ago, today, my life was normal.

for the last time.

a year ago, tomorrow, maura called me and told me that mom backed the car into the garage. she crunched some garbage cans and cracked the frame of the garage door. maura ran outside when she heard the noise, mom got out of the car and walked upstairs and got in bed.

it was odd at the time. maura took pictures of the mess and sent them to me. nervous laughter ensued. then, i sat at my desk and cried. then i booked a trip home. i knew something was terribly wrong. i called to tell mummy...but she still had "laryngitis" so i told her, through maura, that i'd be home in little over a week for some made-up social event. i had to make something up because i knew that she would tell me not to come if i told her i was just coming out because i was worried.

now, i know that she already knew. she knew she had lung cancer. she knew that the tests that would tell the whole story were scheduled for the next day. she knew that she was going to have to give us the horrible news. and she turned into the driveway and she was overcome by pain and she crashed into the house and got out of the car and went upstairs and crawled into bed. so she could just have the last few hours before this all blew up.

and i knew something was wrong. and on october 3rd, i booked a flight that i never took. because on october 4th, i learned she was sick and took a red-eye. but now, as i continue to roll things around in my head, i find comfort in these two things: when she was in trouble and was afraid to tell anyone, she knew i was already on my way ... and when i sensed she needed me, i bought a ticket before she had to say it.



my mummy and i knew each other. so well.