Lily Von Shtupp

I had wanted to post this on May 11^th, 2011, the five year anniversary of my Mom’s passing. Not sure what happened, but here it is:

Today marks five years that my Mom has been gone.

I woke up with a broken heart, feeling like I did so many years ago. The emptiness and loss felt so fresh, and I surprised myself with how low I felt after so long without her. The truth is that the pain and heartbreak never go away. That will never change. I will miss my Mom until the end of time.

It has been five whole years since I have hugged her, and smelled her signature vanilla, cookie and lavender smell. When I hugged her, I used to bury my face in her neck and inhale. After she died, I kept some of her clothing unwashed, so that I could sleep with it and smell her smell. The clothing is stored away now, and the smell has faded. My memories of her perfume are still as sharp.

It has been five whole years since I have heard her voice, telling me how much she loved me, holding my hand in hers as I read to her in the hospital. She looked at me intently, studying my face as though counting the freckles and trying to remember everything about me. I was doing the same thing, committing her freckles and brown eyes to memory. I can still see the lines around her eyes, created by years of laughter.

I was so moved that my close friends texted me, called me, or emailed me to let me know they were thinking about me and that they knew today would be hard. I have some pretty spectacular friends, and am so thankful for them daily.

One fantastic friend in particular helped me turn today, May 11^th, into a new anniversary. A happy one.

She picked me up and drove me in horrible traffic to pick-up a wee puppy that needed a home. *Lily Von Shtupp, named for my Mother’s favorite movie character, was adopted at 6:30pm from a dog rescue. Small and shaking with fear, I scooped her up in my arms walked with her to the car to head home. I whispered in her floppy ear: "Life is going to be good for you, I promise."

I'm pretty sure Lily rescued me: Instead of sadness, I am filled with happiness and love. She's just 18lbs, but her meaning is huge. We're moving forward together. I hope she likes it here.

May 12, 2011: Lily doesn't mind my messy hair.

*If you haven’t seen Mel Brooks’ movie Blazing Saddles, go watch it immediately. It completely embodies my Mom’s sense of humor.

Sorry About That

Recently I’ve had more than a few people tell me they’ve read though this blog, and that it made them cry. And instinctively, I apologize. I’m not sure why I do this. Maybe because I don’t expect that my words will actually cause people to feel my hurt and my loss. Almost as though I feel like I’ve inconvenienced them into feeling something.

It made me think of how often people apologize for things, and how often they don’t when they should.

When I was 16, my mother let me read her copy of Erich Segal’s novel “Love Story”.

Given to her by my father in 1971, it bore the tag line “Love means not ever having to say you’re sorry.” My mother had underlined it with a pencil. The underlining fades as the pages age, but I can see how important that statement was to her. The indent where she pressed the pencil firmly into the page is still there. She was 21 years old. Her boyfriend had given her this book as a symbol of his love for her, and she took it very seriously.

It is one of the many books that shaped my life, but unique in that it was my Mom’s way of teaching me about loving and respecting others. She wanted me to know that love takes work, patience, and sometimes forgiveness. When I was done reading it, I told her: “Mom, I think sometimes we need to apologize. Because how else will someone know you’re sorry?”

Part of apologizing when you’ve hurt or offended someone is knowing you’ve done wrong, and having the humility to admit to it. I can be extremely stubborn and opinionated (I can totally see my father/brother/boyfriend/best friend nodding vehemently at that statement), but I do make it a practice to acknowledge my wrongdoings in order to grow as a person. It’s safe to say that no matter your age or life experience, not everyone has the kind of self-knowledge required to know when to say “I’m sorry”.

I’ve always been a big believer in the power of the apology. In my mind, the most sincere apologies carry a lot of weight, and there is a very small window in which apologies can be offered in order for them to be considered truly genuine.

Whenever I fought with my Mom, we always said I’m sorry at the same time. We had the same stewing temperature. It usually was within 4 hours of whatever argument had taken place. We were fairly predictable.

My general rule is this: If you’ve done something wrong and you haven’t apologized in 72 hours, I’m kind of done with you. Yes, it’s a pretty strict time frame. Yes, it is harsh. But when you care about someone’s feelings and know you’ve screwed up, an apology should be forthcoming. And fast. It's that simple.

In the last year, I’ve had some major disappointments where apologies were due, and none came. Those disappointments were also fairly clarifying, in that they showed me who I was dealing with. When I thought about what I would tell my Mom about those people, I could hear her answer in my head. She had said it to me once before, when I was in my early 20s and had gotten into a fight with a friend who had hurt me deeply: “Amy, not everyone gets it. The ones that never apologize for hurting you or others are not worth keeping in your life because they will never see beyond themselves.”

Since my mother died, and as I continue to evolve as a person, I try my best to say I'm sorry and mean it. That's how my Mom was, and that's how I want to be: True and honest.

As this blog changes and grows with me, there will be posts like this. Posts where I pontificate and proliferate. There are so many moments in life when apologies are due, and none are offered or received. I suppose I just think that opportunities for honesty and truthfulness abound, and so few of them are seized.

"An apology is the superglue of life.  It can repair just about anything."  -Lynn Johnston