chalita

I grew up in a household that included my mom, brother, aunt, grandmother, and grandfather. the adults all assumed responsibility for us kids, and, each other. that's the way it was. that was all I knew.

when my brother and I were very young (2 and newborn), my mom was very sad. her marriage had dissolved, and her heart was broken. our family was there to pick up the pieces.

during my early childhood years, I was closer to sass, one of my aunts. my brother was closer to my mom- he was always her baby boy. as I grew into a teenager, my relationship with my mom became very strained. we fought like cats and dogs. I knew that she loved me, and I loved her, but, I was a teenager, and we just didn't always see eye-to-eye.

fast forward to early adulthood. after I came out to my mom, things got bad. really, really bad. I think that she was just worried about, and for, me. stereotypes plagued her thinking. she feared what she didn't understand... but, she loved me... so, eventually, she came around.

before rhys was born, she struggled. after rhys was born, she fell in love. she fell in love with him and c. when c was pregnant with the girls, she made it her mission to help... she would go to sam's club and stock us up on cases of boost. when the girls were born, she doubly fell in love.

christian, rhys, lyncoln, and quinn became her life. they are her grandbabies, and she is so very proud of them.

the sun rises and sets on Christian. she loves that boy with every fiber of her being. rhys is her good boy. she loves listening to him go on and on (and on) about everything and nothing. lyncoln, her lulu, according to my mom, is just misunderstood. "Sheela, she's so bad... what are you going to do with her?" she asks me all the time. and then, when I go to reprimand her, my mom reprimands me to leave her alone. and then there's quinnie- mom just loves her sweet and funny nature. until her and lu start squabbling. then she laughs.

it's surreal to know that this will be the year that my mom leaves us.

right now she's not doing well... she's been on hospice for a few months, but, since the 4th of july, she has really gone downhill. she's not eating, and barely drinking. she is on morphine and ativan and haldol, just to help take the edge off and help her rest. she's fighting the meds, though. she's afraid. I think that she's scared, that, if she goes to sleep, she won't wake back up. hospice tells us it's just a matter of time. she cries to us that she knows she's dying. for me, that's the hard part...

I guess I could view it as she knows she's going, so she has the opportunity to tie up any loose ends. but I don't see it that way. I see it as she is lying there, knowing what is looming... i'd be terrified, too. she's in so much pain, but she's in love with life (not how her life is now, but those in her life). she's in love with her children and her grandchildren and her sisters and the rest of her friends and family.

there are things about my mom that not a lot of people know... I remember when she was a supervisor, she would be wrought with sadness and anxiety when she had to let people go... "Sheela... they have families that depend on them." from her, I learned empathy. during the holidays, she would send me out shopping with her credit card with the instructions- "you get yourself and Christine and the kids whatever you want... and then I need you to get this stuff..." she would have a list of various sizes and specific items that I was to buy... for employees that she had to let go, for employees that were still there... and for people that she had just met, and had fallen on hard times.

chalita. that's what we call my mom... her name is marsha. her employees would call her "marshalita", which morphed into chalita.

today, I asked her, "chalita? what do you want for your birthday?" she responded that she wasn't going to be here on her birthday. I tried to cheer her up by telling her the kids wanted to throw her a party with cake and ice cream. I guess after we left, she referenced a party. so maybe, just maybe, she's looking forward to her grandbabies eating her birthday cake.

I've been thinking a lot about my childhood. a few weeks ago, before she got really bad, I called her and asked her how she used to make my oatmeal. before school, I would sit on her lap, and eat a late breakfast/early lunch (I must have been in pm kindergarten)... my favorites were apple cinnamon oatmeal, campbell's vegetable beef soup, or grilled cheese. she laughed, and told me how she'd make it. out of everything I know how to cook, I still can't make a package of instant oatmeal taste the way my mom used to make it.

I guess the point of this entry is to implore of you, if you so desire, to maybe send my mom some loving thoughts... that her transition is peaceful and painless... and that she knows that she is surrounded by love.