Isn't She Lovely?

I spent this past weekend in a gorgeous cabin bordering Big South Fork National Park.  It was HEAVENLY.  I hiked, soaked in the hot tub, ate a ton and slept.  Real, honest-to-goodness sleep, not the kind most mommas and/or middle-aged women get.  I came back home feeling so refreshed and recharged.

Coincidently, yesterday was the anniversary of my mom’s passing.  We lost this force of nature on July 14, 2009.  I didn’t plan it this way, but I believe being away on the date was a blessing.  I was able to remember her and miss her without mourning her.  You get my drift?  Instead of the deep sorrow that I experienced those first couple of years, I thought of all the good times and about what a big personality she had.

Let me tell you a little about my mom.  She was born in Farragut when it was no more than fields and farmers.  At one time, the community that most people think of as “exclusive” now was a poor part of the county.  Mom was one of them.  She was born the second child of six, and the oldest girl.  They were dirt poor and usually dirt dirty!  Mom once told me that the reason she was always so particular about keeping everything nice and clean was that she never wanted to be seen as dirty again.  She apparently had suffered some bullying in school because of this.

But even though she grew up poor, Mom was determined to make a good life for herself.  She married my dad a few weeks before her 17^th birthday.  The following year, my oldest sister, Donna, was born six weeks early.  Although Mom had helped take care of her younger siblings, she was totally unprepared for this tiny baby and her needs.   Two years later, Teri was born, and I came along five years after that.  At age 25, Mom had three young children to take care of. 

Mom and Dad worked hard to provide for us.  We never did without the things we needed, although we certainly didn’t get everything we wanted.  I had a good childhood; although they were strict, I always knew that my parents loved me.

After 32 years of marriage, Mom and Dad divorced.  We girls were all grown and out of the house, so it didn’t affect us as it might have at an earlier age.  But for Mom, it was devastating.  She became harder and tougher.  Her unhappiness trickled down to us and we all went through periods of not getting along with her.  Although it got better, she didn’t fully open re-open her heart to love until she became ill.

Mom’s diagnosis of pancreatic cancer was a shock, to say the least.  She had been having stomach problems for a couple of weeks, but we thought she just had a bad virus of some kind.  On Monday, April 27, she went to see her doctor.  By Friday, she knew she was dying.  Don, Tessa and I were at her house when the call came in.  She hung up the phone and I opened my arms.  I held her while that first good cry ran itself out.

In May, she had a Whipple procedure.  This is basically gastric bypass surgery.  I believe she never recovered from that surgery.  She lost a lot of weight that she didn’t have to lose; when the chemo wasn’t making her sick, the illness was.  She became really weak and really depressed.   I thought that, if anyone would fight to live, it would have been her.  But it seemed she gave up.  Her fear and her sickness overwhelmed her.  She was never the same again.

She had a brief period of health.  She re-gained a little weight and was able to do a little more.  She even got in one last sleepover with Tessa.  But in June, 2010, she once again became ill.  This time the cancer had spread, as it usually does, into her liver.  She had one dose of chemo before the doctors told her there was nothing else they could do.  Hospice was called, and she began her final journey.

The morphine took the pain away, but it also took away her mind.  She had to be taken care of; told to eat, reminded to take her medicine, and helped to wash her hair.  After a couple of weeks, she was bedridden.  A hospital bed was brought into the sunroom, her favorite spot in the house.  She died at home like she wanted, and I think without any pain.  And although we knew it was going to happen, the pain was a strong and as real as if unexpected.

The first three years after that were hard.  H.A.R.D.  Legal fights, family abandonment, and yes, I’ll admit it, a really hard bout of alcoholism formed my world.  Luckily, I was blessed with a husband who stuck by me, a dad who didn’t give up on me, and sisters who stood by me.  We went through the pain together, and we made it to the other side.

I still miss my mom.  We were talking about her just last night, and Don said he wished she were here to help us with Tessa.  SO DO I!!  I feel cheated, not having her to talk to as I travel this road of motherhood.  The holidays aren’t too tough because I had my own little family to keep me occupied.  But there are days when I want to call her, just to ask a question about a recipe, or tell her something Tessa said that particular day, or just to talk to her.  Those are the days I miss her the most.

Last night, Tessa said, “Mom…do you see that cloud outside?  It looks like a woman’s face.  Maybe that’s Granny looking down at us.”  Yes, my love, I believe it is.  I miss you, Mom.  I hope that I make you proud.

Juanita Marie Humphrey Crawford

May 14, 1939 - July 14, 2009