My gift in return

Today marks a week since my mom passed away. I can't say "died" yet. It sounds too weird, like I don't care enough to be gentle and sugar coat it..."passed away" sounds sugary sweet and easy on the ears and brain.

The last two days have been the roughest so far. Things are settling in, and they are starting to hurt. In fact, my whole body hurts, and I feel sick to my stomach almost constantly. When it first happens, when you see a life taken, you feel so numb and so in shock that it almost doesn't feel real. It scared me that it didn't feel real, and I kept saying to myself, "Julia, she's gone. Your mom is gone. You have to understand this." I just said it over and over, so my brain could make some sense of what was happening in my life. I think it worked, because it certainly feels real now.

This morning, my body and my heart hurt alot, the most they have thus far. I'm just so sad, for my family and my dad and my aunts and myself. And I'm still sad for her. I wish I had some type of sign or signal to know that she was OK, with my aunt Polly, and comfortable with being in Heaven, away from all of us. I, of course, do not know what it feels like to die or what it feels like to be pulled away from your entire family, and I cannot even fathom the details of all of it. Is she scared? Is she upset? Can you even feel things like that in Heaven? I know she doesn't have cancer anymore, and I know she isn't in pain anymore. But is she happy to be in Heaven? Can she even feel anything? Emotions, I mean. Maybe when you go to Heaven you can't feel sad or lost, you just feel pleasant and contentment, to make the transition either. I don't know. I wish I did. I worry about her all the time up there. Which is only natural, I suppose, since I worried about her all the time down here too.

I have been staying in Cleveland for the last several days, since I have not wanted to be in my house because it does not feel right to be here now. When I got home, there was a stack of cards for me, and I opened them today as I sat on the bathroom floor and cried. I cry every day. Alot. I hope this starts to get easier soon.

I got cards from people I didn't even know but knew my mom, either from school or work or places like that. One of them was from a lady that worked with my mom that wanted to tell me how special my mom was to her because she was so encouraging and loving towards her when she decided to go back to school. I nodded as I read it, knowing full well how encouraging she would have been towards this woman, because my mom was so supportive of people and so kind and loving, always ready to help or give advice. At the funeral, friends of hers, a couple who had lost their own daughter several years ago to ovarian cancer, told me how much my mom meant to them and how she helped get them through such a devastating time. I remember her talking about this girl all the time, how sad she was for her and her family, because I am sure she tried to put herself in their position, losing a precious daughter. I know her heart ached for them. Even mine did, just from hearing my mom talk about them. The girl's father, the man my mom worked with, said to me that he wanted to write me a letter to tell me how much my mom meant to him, because I just really wouldn't understand otherwise. I did actually get a letter in the mail, but not yet from him. It was from my mom's friend who had breast cancer and had to have a stem cell transplant, and they were old neighborhood friends together. She wrote about how she was thankful I included her in my Facebook updates and how much I meant to my mom and how much my mom meant to her as a friend.

My mom never went to college, she never won any type of award or prize for a huge accomplishment, she never was recognized in any way for doing anything extraordinary. She wasn't that type of person. She was quiet and private but caring and good to the people in her life, regardless of how she knew them, how often she saw them, and how close they were to her. All of them were special and important to her, all of them meant a great deal to her. She was a genuinely good person, with a good heart. So many people talk about how nice and caring she was, how giving and genuine she was. And she really was. I am sorry if you didn't know her. She was amazing. I have watched her as I have grown up, seeing the way she smiles and greets people, her politeness and desire to help others, all of these amazing and beautiful things that she possessed in her that so often, and unfortunately, lack in so many these days. A truly wonderful person like her doesn't come along very often. And now she's gone, to be with others like her in Heaven. I have been taught well by her. I remember being really young on vacation and wanting to play with other kids at the swimming pool but I was afraid to talk to them. She said, "Just go say, 'Hi! I'm Julia! What's your name?' And then ask them if they want to play." And I did, and I had new friends. This goes back as far as I can remember. Always helping me, encouraging me, making sure I smiled and greeted people by their names, making sure I helped people feel special too, because this was so important to her. And it became important to me. I am so lucky to have had these special life lessons, and although they are so simple, they mean so much and are so rare to find, it seems.

I will always remember this, and I will always continue this. No matter what. I will be that kind-hearted, genuine, caring, warm person she was. I will do my best to make people feel special and appreciated, and I will always do my best to find good in others, like she always did. Although the fact that she is gone has literally torn my heart out (and smashed it into a thousand pieces all over the floor, leaving it scattered and lost...), I will do everything in my power to keep her proud of me and to help my heart grow back so I can treat people and be the amazingly wonderful woman she was. While now it feels like my heart will never be the same, and it probably won't be, it will at least be taped back together by her, eventually, and it will be infused with her love and courage and kindness so that I can continue what she maintained for so long.

This will be my gift to her, one that goes on forever, until I am with her again. I am so sad that I lost her so early in my life and that I will have to wait so long to see her beautiful, smiling face. This is how I will always remember her. I promise that I will continue with my running, which she was so proud of me for that I found something to do while she was sick. I will go to school, and finish my degree and my thesis and I will work in Wellness to continue my dream of reaching out to people who want to be better for themselves. I will continue to be just like her, to encourage and fill them with self-respect and self-love so they know they can do whatever they want. I may not go back to Physician Assistant school like I planned, which I will for sure hear about probably within seconds of seeing her again, but I hope that she will understand my hesitation to enter back into the medical and clinical community, when I was so destroyed by it just a week ago. But she will understand, and she will be happy for me that I will still continue my career to help others, which is what I have always wanted. And what she always lived for. She has done so much for me, and this, in return, is what I will do for her.