Choose . Happy

Another year has come and gone. For some, it was a year of sunshine and rainbows and for others, not so much.

I’m a firm believer, though, that regardless of how tough times can get, they all end up in your rear view, leaving you with the ability to look forward and get a fresh start. Here are 5 things to keep in mind while you C H E E R S into the New Year!

1. T H E  P A S T  I S  T H E  P A S T.

You gotta leave it there; the job you lost, the ex you broke up with (or broke up with you), the psycho family member(s) you just couldn’t make amends with (no matter how many times you tried), the relationship(s) that crumbled for whatever reason(s), the guilt you’ve carried for months over things you c o u l d n ‘ t control. SA-YO-NA-RA. Let it go. Carrying it over to the New Year is just bad juju, and it’s not good for your mental health, either.

Do you realize how short life is? Your life could literally end tomorrow, or you could experience something life changing, and spend the next year wishing you appreciated what you had – right now. Don’t wait until you’re experiencing regret. Brush all the negativity OFF, and move forward with a clean mental slate – you deserve it.

2. S T O P  E X P E C T I N G  S O  M U C H  F R O M  P E O P L E. 

Not for their own good, but for yours. You can’t expect people to be on your level 24-7, so stop setting people up for failure when it comes to your needs. People don’t generally wake up wondering what mood you’re in or what’s on your mind, so don’t get frustrated when someone doesn’t meet your day-to-day standards.

This includes yourself. It’s okay to come to terms with the fact that sometimes you just need to say N-O. It seems like a great idea to be a “Yes-Man/Yes-Woman” but when it starts to affect your sanity, it’s time to know when to put your foot down and take care of yourself first. When your “good deeds” are beginning to do more harm than good, to the point where its affecting your sanity, it’s time to cut ties. There are more people in your boat than you think – trust me.

3. L O V E  Y O U R S E L F  F I R S T.

What did you do for YOU today? And what did you do for THEM?

I’m not talking about donating to charity or doing someone a huge favor – I’m all for consistent selfless acts of kindness, obviously!

I’m talking about constantly laying down like a door mat to please others. Speak up, and stand your ground. On top of the million-and-one things on your daily to-do list, take the half hour to sit, breathe and enjoy your coffee. Take the time each day to mentally “chill” and have some “me” time. You don’t always have to use that extra free time on someone else.

4. S T O P  S T R E S S I N G  A B O U T  T H E  F U T U R E.

Guess what? No matter how much money each of us are worth – a million or a penny – we all die.

If you have a minute, close your eyes and picture yourself 50 years from now. Your 75-year-old self would probably laugh at how stressed you are right now. NONE of this is going to matter; the money, the stress, the job (or lack of), the turmoil-ridden relationships, the deadlines, the drama, the Instagram followers, the Facebook “likes” – none of it.

Your 75-year-old self would grab you by the shoulders, tell you to take a deep breath and remind you that the best is yet to come. You WILL be settled down one day, you WILL have a family – big or small, babies or furbabies. You’ll have an amazing career – hopefully doing something that your heart led you to.

Right now, enjoy life for what it is. Do not lead a life that you’ll regret looking back on 50 years from now.

5. U N – F O L L O W.

The best thing you can do for yourself is to click the UN-follow button – mentally and electronically. Life’s too short to waste time on nonsense. I see so many people stressing out about what people are posting on social media.

Are you aware how easy it is to remove the nonsense from your newsfeed, and literally never see it again?

Why continue to stress yourself out? If it bothers you – remove it. Plain and simple. And while you’re at it, apply that to real life, too.

B E S T  W I S H E S  T O  Y O U  I N  – 2 0 1 8 –  L E T ‘ S  D O  T H I S! x o

Hi Mom,

It’s that dreaded day again.

I’m sitting here, drinking some tea, and I figured since I can’t call you, I’ll write you a letter.

This day always seems to be a bit more dim than the rest. It’s like my world is cold and silent, while the rest of everyone else’s world continues on as usual. Everyone’s all excited; getting out of work early, heading to Thanksgiving Eve parties, getting everything ready for tomorrow. But not me.

All I can think about, is you.

As I sit here starting this letter, I’m starting to realize that I could literally think of a thousand topics to write to you about, and that this letter could probably go on for pages and pages. But rather than complain about how bad it sucks that you won’t be joining us for Thanksgiving for the 4th year in a row, I want to tell you what I’m thankful for.

I’m thankful for the times you took me apple and pumpkin picking when I was little, and then we’d go home to make apple crisp and carve the pumpkins. We’d bake chocolate chip cookies from scratch – you taught me how to measure the right amount of flour and sugar, and how to scrape the top with a butter knife to make sure it was flat. You’d put on your apron, and help me put on my mini one. I thought I was so cool and grown up – I wanted to be just like you. To this day, when I bake cookies, I use a butter knife to scrape the top of the ingredients to make sure it’s perfect. I think of you every single time.

Behind the orchard where we picked apples and pumpkins, is where you are laid to rest. It’s bittersweet, as all I want to do is walk through those orchards with you again, but it brings me peace knowing you are resting in such a sentimental place.

I’m thankful for all the times you’d come home after a long, tiring day of work and make us dinner. I know you were absolutely exhausted, and you could have just thrown something in the microwave for me, but you didn’t. I’m grateful for every single day that you went to work, and then to your second job, all to do the best you could to provide for me.

My God, I wish I could have sat you down back then, held your hands and looked you in the eye to deeply thank you for every single thing you did for me.

I’m thankful for all the ‘Mom and Me’ dance parties we’d have in the living room, singing, “I Would Walk 500 Miles” by the Proclaimers as loud as we could. Our favorite dessert was the ice cream Dove bars. Each time I pass them in the frozen aisle at the supermarket, these beautiful memories come to mind.

I’m thankful for every single time you sat in the stands to watch me cheer. You were always there. When I close my eyes, I can see your face, beaming down at me from the stands in the freezing cold at every football game. You were there for every game, every competition, every play, every award, every appointment, every dance recital, every ceremony. You would stop at nothing to ensure that you were there for me, supporting me through every decision I made. I know it was exhausting rushing out of work to make it on time to a 7:00pm game; I’m sure it seemed like it didn’t mean much to me at the time, Mom, and I’m so sorry I didn’t show more appreciation at the time.

I’m thankful for every time you made me keep my word. And for every time you kept yours. For every time you told me to walk in someone else’s shoes. For every time you taught me to take responsibility for my actions. For every time you kept me grounded, and taught me to be kind and humble.

I admire everything you were. You wouldn’t hesitate to give the shirt off of your back to someone who needed it. You were the first to make friends with the unfriendly and the lonely. You’d bring laughter to even the most solemn soul.

I’m thankful for all of those, “Home safe? xo” texts. The, “No texting while driving! xo” texts. All of the, “Call me when you get home”, “Did you get there safe?” texts. I used to think you were nagging me, and I’d get so aggravated, but looking back now I would give anything in the world to see just one text from you pop up on my phone. Just one.

I always wonder about how amazing your reactions would have been if I would have been able to tell you that Matt and I were engaged, or when I found out I was pregnant. What your reaction would have been the first time you got to hold your Grand babies. I’d give everything I have just to be able to see the look of pure bliss on your face, the moment they were placed into your arms.

I’m thankful for all of those times I’d call you (at least 3 times a day, even when you were at work and I knew you couldn’t talk but I needed you), and you’d pick up every single time. All of those e-mails saying how excited and proud you were every time I’d be doing something exciting with the Patriots. You were truly my biggest fan, always in my corner, and I can’t tell you how badly it hurts to have that corner empty.

I’m thankful for all of the beautiful ways that you were a mother to me. The love, the hugs, the lessons. I have yet to find the incredible qualities that made you, “you”, in someone else. You were a rare, beautiful soul. You were genuine, honest, selfless, kind, driven, strong – the list is endless. I strive, on a daily basis, to be a QUARTER of the incredible mother and person you were. It’s difficult trying to find what I found in you, in others, as it’s simply impossible. It’s a constant battle, settling with the fact that you were one in a million, and that my 23 years with you, are up. That now you simply live on in memory, and in feelings in my heart; in reminders and places.

On the last day we had together, I promised you I’d be strong, and your last words to me were, “I know you will.”

I am trying so hard, Mom. On a daily basis, giving everything I have to be strong. Through every dip into darkness, through every pit in my stomach after a sad dream, through every moment I need you and you aren’t there.

I am thankful that you and Dad sent down two little angels to bring me comfort and peace on a daily basis. You knew I needed them, and you sent them to me.

You saved me.

I promise you that I will do everything in my power to be the pillar of strength to them, that you were to me. I promise to instill all of the values into them, that you instilled in me.

I am thankful for everything you were, and everything you are to me, Mom. Thank you for every minute, every hug, every sacrifice, every lesson, every, “I’m proud of you”. I am who I am, because of you.

 

It was January, 2012. I was a senior in college, living in an off-campus apartment. I had never owned a cat, and frankly never wanted one. A family members’ cat just had kittens, and she asked if I wanted one out of the blue. She sent me a picture of your sister, Zoe, and the rest was history.

I brought Zoe home, and fell in love with her instantly. She was my new baby!

You were supposed to go to my Gram, but she was going through the end stages of chemotherapy, and she couldn’t take care of you after all. My cousin sent me a picture of you, and asked if I wanted a second kitten.

Okay, so I never even wanted one cat, and here I am about to bring home two.

Something came over me, and I said yes. It was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

When I picked you up, you were a little ball of disaster. You had fleas, worms, your fur smelled like smoke, your eyes were blood shot from meowing – you needed some major T.L.C. and a trip to the vet immediately. I’ll never forget how you meowed the whole way home – it was heartbreaking.

Within a few weeks, though, and after the right medications and lots of lovin’, you perked right up. You became the happiest little kitten. You and Zoe would cuddle and snooze all day, everyday.

I remember dreading how long classes seemed, when all I wanted was to get back to my house to see you and Zo. You two were my pride and joy, my first babies.

One of my favorite memories of you is when I was in the kitchen, and you came pouncing around the corner with your tiny meow – except it sounded more like, “Mow! Mow! Mow!”.

You’ve been melting my heart since day one, Simba.

You were with us when we graduated, when we moved back in with our parents, and when we got our first condo.

You were there for me when I achieved one of my biggest dreams. You were there for me when my parents died. You were there for me when I got married. When I got a new job. When I got laid off for the first time.

Every time I’d come home, I could always find you snuggled at the end of my bed waiting for me to cuddle you.

Some of your favorite things to do included meowing like a roaring lion (day and night), taking trips outside to run in the grass (and eat it, then throw up of course), take quick trips in the car, run around chasing the laser pointer, climb like Spider Man up your kitty jungle gym, and leap up onto the counter to get a drink every single time we turned the water on (every. single. time.).

Your favorite treats included Blue Buffalo wet food, fresh tuna and chicken treats. You demanded fresh ice water every day. And you loved when we would get you new catnip toys.

With Matt working nights, you were my little companion. Zoe has always been a more independent cat who likes her space (she’s M.I.A. most of the time). You, however, were certainly a playful lap cat.

I’d come home from work and you’d be right at the door, and then hop up onto the kitchen chair and rub your little nose and face on the kitchen, purring away. You were so excited that I had come home, and I loved coming home to you every single night.

We’d snuggle on those lonely nights, as you’d always hop onto my lap and knead the fuzzy blankets that I was wrapped up in. I used to love watching you do that! Stretching out your little paws, making your ‘bed’ comfy to curl up on. You were a purring machine, and I’ll never forget that sweet sound.

When I got pregnant in the fall of 2015, it’s like you knew. You were extra cuddly. And throughout my pregnancy, as my belly grew, you’d pop up on the couch with me and extend your paw onto my belly and fall asleep. I will cherish these moments forever. You didn’t know it then, but in those moments you brought me so much warmth and love, and I appreciated it more than you knew.

Things changed when the babies arrived.

The day we brought them home you were so excited and pounced up to put your paws on the carseat to sniff them. We whisked you away, worried you might jump on them.

From that point on, there was less ice in your water, less trips outside, less catnip. There were less cuddles, less nose kisses, less snuggles on the couch at night.

We were so blindly wrapped up in taking care of twins round the clock, that the attention was no longer 100% paid to you.

You still got lots of treats and wet food every morning. You still got sips of water at the sink. You still got fresh litter, fresh water and food. But things weren’t the same for you.

You began meowing fiercely at night. It seemed as though the second I got the babies down to sleep, you began meowing all over the house. It drove me crazy, as I was terrified you’d wake them up, and all I wanted – needed – to do, was sleep.

Rather than hop on the couch to snuggle with you with our fuzzy blanket, I leaped at the chance of sleep, and went upstairs to bed.

For the last year and a half, that’s kind of how things went with you and I. Rather than doing things for you because I loved you, it was more like another task on my endless list.

Overtime you seemed as though you were losing a bit of weight, and were coughing up hair balls a bit more often. I had brought this up at one of your vet appointments, and the vet told me that some cats are just thinner than others. He asked if you ate regularly, and I told him you ate like a pig!

A little over a week ago, you began violently vomiting periodically throughout the day. I racked my brain trying to think of anything and everything you could have possibly gotten into. You were never the type of cat to eat toys or small pieces of anything.

I noticed you weren’t using the litter box much, and weren’t eating or drinking. I mixed warm water with your wet food and used a syringe to give you nutrients the only way I could. The vomiting continued. It would wake me up in the middle of the night.

You weren’t meowing loudly anymore. You wouldn’t even run up the stairs like you always did. You barely came around, and every now and then you’d let out a weak “howl”, indicating how much pain you were in.

I brought you in on Monday, praying to God with everything I had that they would give you an anti-nausea/vomiting medication, and you’d be back to yourself in no time. I was willing to do whatever I needed to do to get my Simby back.

The vet felt around and did the usual check up. She told me that your kidneys were smaller than average, and you were very sick. We did blood tests, and asked the vet for her honest advice – what she would do if it were her cat.

She gave me the run around, told me that you had kidney disease/were in kidney failure and spoke the words I was dreading hearing. I sank down against the wall into a crouched position and put my head in my hands.

I asked her if I could take you home and give you fluids myself, but she reminded me that you were suffering, and it would be selfish of me to do that.

Throughout all this, throughout all the pain and suffering – you were still purring.

I held you, curled up in a ball, and I swear you wrapped your paw around my finger. I held you close to my heart and told you how much I loved you, and how I did not want you to live in pain any longer.

We began the process, as the vet administered the sedative. Your purring slowed, as your head sank back and your mouth opened.

My entire body was shaking. My heart was shattering. Tears were streaming down my face, dripping from my chin. I couldn’t let you leave me, but I knew in my heart I couldn’t let you suffer.

Within 3 minutes, you were gone.

I held your limp body in my arms and prayed to God to help me through this. It brought me back to when I had to give the doctor the OK to administer the heart stopping meds for my Mom. This was way too much.

I can’t stop blaming myself, my mind races thinking there must have been something I could have done differently or didn’t notice. But for my own sanity, I have to keep reminding myself that this disease was out of my hands, and I was lucky to have you for as long as I did.

However, I will keep blaming myself for not spending every second with you when I had the chance.

I’ve been crying on and off since that moment, and I’m sick to my stomach as I’m writing this to you. But there are things you need to know, Simba.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I became so distracted when I became a Mom to human babies. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that your constant meowing may have been because you were trying to communicate how much pain you were in. I’m sorry I didn’t drill the vet harder about why you were so thin. I’m sorry I didn’t snuggle you every night the last few months.

I’m sorry there was no cure for the pain you were in.

My soul is broken. Our house is not a home without you. It’s quiet, and lonely in many ways, even with two toddlers. I see you in all your favorite spots still, except you’re not really there. It’s impossible to go through daily life, knowing you’re not coming home.

It’s always been “Zoe and Simba”, but now Zoe is alone.

I loved you more than you can possibly imagine, even when I was distracted, even when I didn’t snuggle you. You are irreplaceable, and there will always be a space in my heart that will never be filled. I cherished you all the more because I got you before my Mom passed away, and I know she adored you.

I know that she is snuggling you now, feeding you all the tuna and chicken treats; rolling you in the finest cat nip, and brushing your beautiful orange coat.

I’m not sure when this pain will subside, or if it ever really will at all. Your absence is so painful, and I’m sure that will never change.

They say cats leave paw prints on your heart forever and man, that couldn’t be more true. Thank you for fulfilling my life in so many beautiful and comforting ways for the last 6 years. If only it could have been 10 more..

I’d give anything to get you back, and to snuggle you one last time.

You are loved and missed more than you can imagine, Simba kitty.

 

My sweet R + V,

You have indescribably turned my world upside down and brought light into the depths of my soul. You have opened my eyes and mind to emotions and lessons I knew nothing about before. You’ve taught me about strength, fear, solitude and purity.

People say it all the time, but you truly do not know love until you become a Mother.

From the moment we heard the words, “there are two little girls in there”, I felt an instant connection to you.

You are gifts sent down from heaven, from your Nana and Papa. They had a special meeting with God and asked him to spend a little extra time creating the most beautiful blessings – and then he sent me you.

I will never forget the first time I felt your tiny kicks. It felt like little butterflies fluttering around in my belly. And although you were only the size of oranges, you let me know you were there.

From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I prayed every single night. I rubbed my belly and prayed to God, asking him to keep you safe and to help guide me to be the very best I could be for you. I told him that I would sacrifice anything and everything to ensure that he would place you both safely into my arms and make me your Mama.

I will never forget the first time I heard your tiny voices as you came into the world. Your Dad squeezed my hand, and in that moment we sank into the purest, most beautiful bliss.

You were finally here.

There are so many things I want for you. There are so many things I want to be for you. I may not always be here physically, but you must know that no matter where I am, I will always be in your hearts. My heart beats inside of you. I will never settle for anything less than the very best for you, and I will never rest until you are safe and content.

There are some thoughts I want to share with you, to help guide you in life. If for any reason I’m no longer here to physically guide you, I always want you to have this to look back on. These thoughts have stuck with me throughout my life, and have done me a lot of good. I hope they can do something for you, too.

Life is beautiful, but not always. 

You will experience hardships in your life. Regardless of the magnitude of the situation, you must dig deep into your soul and be your own advocate. Be your own best friend. If roles were reversed and your best friend needed your guidance and asked what you would do, what would you tell her?

You would tell her to be strong, that everything would be okay and she’s better than that. You would tell her to be confident and to stay focused on the positive. You would tell her that the sun always rises, and there will be another day; that this is just a moment in time, and it will certainly pass.

This is what you must tell yourself.

You owe it to yourself to be your own best friend and take care of you first. Be strong, be smart, be cautious, and understand that sometimes it’s okay to be a little selfish when it comes to taking care of yourself.

You must be the best version of you for yourself first, if you’re going to be the best version of you for others.

You have no idea what is going on in anyone else’s life, so choose compassion first.

If someone is mean to you, there is usually a reason.

Maybe that girl who’s been picking on you lives in a house with no heat or running water. Maybe that boy who’s been teasing you is craving attention from parents who aren’t there. Maybe that girl’s Mom or Dad is abusive, or she’s been hungry for days. Maybe that little girl just lost her Mom or Dad, and doesn’t know how to cope. Maybe that little boy just moved here, and doesn’t know any one or made any friends yet.

Maybe that lady’s husband is abusive. Maybe that guy that just cut you off on the highway is trying desperately to get to the hospital to reach his family. Maybe that woman just lost her job, and needed that paycheck to put food on the table for her children.

You do not know what anyone is going through, so choose compassion over judgement.

Take a walk in their shoes.

Is it fair to have someone take out their emotions on you? No. Do you deserve it? No. Can you be the one person who was nice to them that day? Yes, you can. And you should.

Be that one person who smiles, and holds the door. Be that one person who responds with, “Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.” Be that one person that reaches out to the person sitting alone and offer them to come sit with you and your friends.

I know you will.

Be patient. 

If I can teach you anything at all, it must be patience.

We live in a world that thrives off of instant gratification. Everyone is running, rushing, to get where they need to go. No one “has time” for this or that. People put things off; meetings, due dates, phone calls to family members, hangouts with friends.

But you can’t put things off forever, and trust me – you don’t want to. You put it off, put it off, put it off and then in the blink of an eye, you’ve put your whole life off.

Be patient, and trust the process.

For years now, I have made it a point to really stop and look around; to really live in the moment. Once Nana and Papa went to heaven, a lot of things were put into perspective for me. I realized that the “big” things weren’t so big, because I didn’t let them be as big as they seemed.

Have patience with your friends, have patience in trying situations, have patience with yourself. Mistakes are okay, and you’re going to make many. Life will go on, I promise you that. People in your life will make mistakes, too, and you cannot expect them to handle things the way you do. You cannot expect people to be as strong as you are. You owe it to yourself to keep a clear, open mind. Getting stressed out and worked up will do nothing for you.

It’s very difficult to find people who are patient with themselves and others; be one of those people.

Be present. 

It’s very easy to get wrapped up in other peoples lives on Instagram and Facebook (or whatever social media sites that will be current when you guys are teenagers). The girl modeling in different cities, the girl who has 5 million followers, all those famous people living luxurious lives.

You know what people really matter? The ones right in front of you.

We’re all missing so much of our lives simply by looking down at our phones. There are way too many beautiful things about life to be wasting away, living vicariously through other people.

Most of the time now, I make it a point to leave mine and your Dad’s phones in the car when we take trips, or make sure to put our phones away when we have meals or are spending family time together.

Don’t let special moments, or even normal daily moments in your life slip away by paying more attention to irrelevant things on social media. Have a conversation, make eye contact, and really learn to live in the moment.

The world doesn’t revolve around you.

A lot of parents may tell their children the opposite. But the thing is, I don’t want you to grow up with a sense of entitlement or find yourself swallowed up by disappointment when things don’t go your way.

I want you to work hard; really work for what you want. I want you to challenge yourself, and reach – really reach – for the stars. I want you to lead, not follow. I want you to march to the beat of your own drum. I want you to understand that things are not going to be handed to you, but that you need to go out and get them yourself.

If you want something done right, do it yourself.

Lead by example; don’t talk about what you’re going to accomplish – just accomplish it, and let your success speak for itself.

Be someone that you would be proud to know.

Don’t take life too seriously.

There will never be a time where you “aren’t good enough”. You will have moments where you feel that way, but it will never actually be true. To me, and all those around you, you will always be good enough. Even if you fail.

You will have bad days, bad experiences, and times where you feel like things will never get better. But you know what? They will. They always, always do.

Throughout my life I have had moments where I thought my life was over, and looking back now I’ve realized that that’s exactly what they were – moments. Moments that felt like an eternity, but only because I allowed them to. I have learned to remind myself in any bad situation that it is simply temporary, and life goes on.

I always remind myself that one day I’ll be 90, looking back and kicking myself for getting myself so worked up over things – things that seemed so big in that moment, but really weren’t that big at all. They’re simply speed bumps in life – look at them as little lessons, learn what you can from them, and leave them in the past.

When things get tough, remind yourself of the good things and what you have. Write out a list of 10 things that make your life great. Once you’ve done that, take a deep breath, and move on.

I promise to never tell you who you’re going to be.

Your existence is comprised of a beautiful soul that you carry in your heart. It is going to take you many places, and you will change colors many times before finding out who exactly you want to be.

I will never tell you that you can’t be who you are. I will never fight you when you want to start a trend or dare to be different. I will always support you and whoever or whatever you choose to be.

It is not my place to control your life, I am simply here to guide you and support you down each path you take. I promise to always see things from your perspective and take your side, first.

I will always celebrate your drive and enthusiasm, and encourage you to take chances.

To me, you will be perfect no matter who you become.

Always remember how madly in love I am with you.

I am your Mom.

I am your best friend. Right now, you are only a year and a half old, and you are the best friends I’ve ever had. When you wrap your little arms around my neck, my heart explodes into a million pieces. I cannot even imagine how beautiful our relationship will be as I continue to watch you grow.

I think the entire world of you.

To me, you’re like every celebrity in the entire world combined into two absolutely incredible little people. I will always cheer you on, I will always be in your corner, I will always squeeze you when you’re sad/happy/angry/silly/chilly/excited – you name it.

You will do great things in life; whether you choose to be an artist, an engineer or a CEO, I believe in you.

Right now, I am proud of you for throwing the ball and turning the pages of your books. I can’t imagine how proud I’ll be when you actually start achieving and accomplishing big kid things.

Always believe in yourself; be confident, be strong, be bold, be independent.

I will be right here for you, every step of the way.

Xoxo,

Mama

 

 

2014 was somewhat of a transition year for me. I was on the road to finding peace, mentally and emotionally. It was a year full of finding and picking up the pieces. There were some sunny highs, and some dark lows. Matt and I got engaged in April, we started planning the wedding, I continued taking classes in grad school, and continued my 3rd year with the Patriots. It was a decent year, full of distractions, to pick myself up off the ground.

Then came 2015. That year picked me up off the ground, plopped me on my feet, and said, “It’s time to move forward.” It’s almost like my parents took all of 2014 to plan out the best year for me that they could think of, and gave me 2015.

January.

We were headed to Super Bowl XLIX! We are so spoiled, here in New England. Am I right, Pats fans? Being a cheerleader for the best team in the NFL was nothing short of an absolute privilege. I’m so grateful to have been able to cheer on the Patriots, in live-action from the sidelines, for over 45 games. And I suppose it wasn’t too rough sharing the field with Tom Brady, either.

I can still remember the first time I stepped onto that field in August, 2012. Standing there, with one pom on my heart, and one behind my back, my heart raced as the National Anthem began. I thought, “Am I really standing here, is this real life?” as I breathed it all in. My heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest. I was used to cheering at football games, but never one like this. Never one with over 70,000 screaming, passionate fans.

After three years [on the team] and a handful of nail-biter playoff games, we were finally headed to the Super Bowl. Super Bowl XLIX.

A cheerleader can only stay on the squad for 4 years, and you have to re-audition each year to make it back. When you make the team, you hope and pray that your 4 years will include a trip to the Super Bowl. And you pray even harder that the Patriots win.

On February 1st 2015, the Patriots defeated the Seattle Seahawks, 28-24, at the University of Phoenix in Glendale, AZ. And that, my friends, was the ultimate trip of a lifetime.

February.

While packing my suitcase(s) for the Super Bowl trip, I also had to include my laptop and grad. school books. My final thesis was due on February 1st. Yes – you read that right, the same night of the Super Bowl. I spent the entire week and a half before doing everything I could to get as much as I could done. It was pretty important for it to be absolutely perfect, considering it was my final submission.

In between promotions and interviews, I found some time to put the final touches on my thesis, and was able to submit it the Saturday night before. Although it was extremely hard to focus on grad. school with all the excitement in Arizona, I felt so relieved to finally be done with school.

Finishing grad. school on time meant a lot to me. I was on my second semester in the fall of ’13, and despite the chaos around me, I pushed through to stay on track. My teachers were incredible as far as allowing me to take my time with assignments, and being really lenient when I needed them to be. I’m eternally grateful to them for working with me during that time.

I received my Master of Marketing and Communication diploma in May. After 19 years of school, I felt more accomplished than ever.

March.

Wedding month is finally here! After just about a year of crazy planning, Matt and I were about to have the wedding of our dreams.

I could hardly sleep the night before (aside from staying up with my amazing bridesmaids most of the night). It was like Christmas eve, but SO much better. I couldn’t believe that the next day was my wedding day. It’s hard to wrap your head around the fact that for months you’re planning and organizing and counting down and then, out of no where, the big day is here.

I remember waking up that morning and looking out the window to see these big, fluffy snowflakes falling softly to the ground. I know most people would be upset about snow on their wedding day, but not me.

My Mom loved when it was snowing.

That was the first sign of the day that she was there with me. I remember waking up and my heart sank a little knowing that my Mom wasn’t going to be greeting me downstairs, jumping up and down saying, “It’s your wedding day, honey!”.

I was also anticipating the walk down the aisle that wouldn’t include my Dad. I had decided that I would be walking alone down the aisle, as I felt that anyone else stepping in would be taking his place. That was my Dad’s place to be, and I saved that special place for him.

As I put on my dress, I started crying uncontrollably, and I found that I couldn’t stop.

I had my wedding dress on. My hair and makeup was perfect. I felt beautiful. I was about to marry the most incredible person I’d ever known. So why couldn’t I stop crying?

I needed them. I needed her. It was as if I was on autopilot – all the planning, the anticipation, the organizing; I kept going while in the back of my mind I was subconsciously praying that my Mom and Dad were going to magically show up on my wedding day. But they weren’t there. My Mom wasn’t there to put on my veil, or give me her sweet advice as I was about to become a bride. It was as though I wasn’t going to stop crying until she walked through the door.

I’m now standing alone behind the church doors, anxiously waiting for them to open. I had a million emotions running through my body. My Dad should be here. I should have my arm wrapped around his, and he should be telling me how I’ll always be his little girl. I’m biting the inside of my cheek as hard as I can to stop the tears from falling.

And then those doors opened. And I saw my husband’s face.

Every single worry, every single instance of sadness left my body. I locked eyes with him, and it’s like the sky opened up and the sun was beaming through. He had always been my strength, my solitude. We were here, today, to promise ourselves to each other. He’s all I’ve ever needed, and I couldn’t wait for my hands to meet his at the end of that aisle.

My Dad was a beautiful musician, to say the least. I chose to walk down the aisle to one of his instrumental pieces. Hearing his song play was therapeutic and soothing, and made me feel like he was right there with me.

In place of the father-daughter dance, my sisters and I danced together to another one of his beautiful songs. There were tears, and there were laughs. It was a pure, beautiful moment.

Our day was perfect, snowflakes and all. All of our favorite people, all in one room. How often do you get to throw a party with every single one of your loved ones and friends?

We honeymooned in Cancun that next week, and had a ‘honeymoon part 2’ in August, when we traveled to Hawaii for two weeks. It felt like those months after were one big honeymoon – like living on cloud 9.

I married my best friend on March 28th, 2015, and life has been a lot sweeter ever since.

June.

We were headed to the sunny beaches of Punta Cana to shoot the 2016 New England Patriots Cheerleaders swimsuit calendar. I have to admit that this was one of my favorite perks, of many, about being on the squad.

Before I made the team, I had never done a professional photoshoot before. I guess I never really thought about doing it, nor did I think I was capable of being ‘good’ at it.

During auditions my rookie year, we were each given a swimsuit calendar from the previous year. I remember looking at it and thinking, “I can’t imagine getting to go on a trip to an exotic location and actually do a photoshoot that will be featured in an NFL swimsuit calendar. In my dreams!”.

Well, dreams do come true – if you work hard enough.

This was my fourth and final swimsuit calendar trip. It felt like just yesterday that I was at my rookie calendar shoot, posing cluelessly against a palm tree, acting like I knew what the heck I was doing.

The week was incredible; there’s nothing like spending a “work” week at a gorgeous beach resort with 25+ of your best girl friends. We would find out each night who would be shooting the next day, and make plans to go support each other at everyone’s shoots. In between shoots we had promotional events for the other guests staying at the resort. We put on a few shows for the guests, as well, that included fun games and dance performances. It’s just an awesome experience, overall.

My shoot came, and I took in every single moment. I hugged our director and the photography/camera crew a little tighter, knowing it was our last time working together. As we were walking off set, I wanted to bawl my eyes out. How did I just complete my LAST shoot of my cheer experience?!

Every year at the end of the week, the cover shoot is announced. We find out where the location will be, and who will be chosen.

It was the second to last day before we were headed home, and we were getting back from a promotional event. We were told to meet in the lobby for the cover shoot announcement. I sat there in the lobby, looking around at my beautiful friends, wondering which of them it would be. Would there be one, two or three girls? Would it be a sunrise shoot? Would it b-

And then my name was called.

Wait, did she just say my name?

Never in a million, bajillion years did I ever think that I would be chosen for the cover. Never. Nope. Not me.

Well, it was happening. And it happened SO fast.

The cover shoot would include me and one other girl on the team. Next thing I knew I was headed to the gym with our trainer for a serious last minute workout. We had to be up and in hair and makeup that next (early) morning at 1:30am, for a shoot that started somewhere around 4:30am.

We were shooting at sunrise, on the rooftop of one of the resort buildings, with the palm trees and the ocean to our backs. We got into our pose, and I remember turning around and looking out into the beautiful ocean and the sun just peeking over the line where the ocean met the sky. I wanted to live in that moment forever.

Shooting the cover was so beyond surreal. It was a dream that I felt was so far out of reach, but it actually happened. It was like the icing on top of an indescribable journey. And man, it was definitely one for the books.

October.

The Fall started out pretty awesome.

There was Hawaii, where Matt and I swam with sea turtles, hiked up some crazy intense mountains, and tried acai bowls for the first time. There was that time when my teammates and I received the most incredible Super Bowl gifts we could have asked for – beautiful Super Bowl pendants. There was the Home Opener after the Super Bowl win – need I say more?

And then one day, I woke up and it felt like I had been whipped up into a tornado, tossed around, and thrown back onto the ground. I could not lift my head off the pillow. I had never felt that sick in my entire life.

A week or two went by, and I still felt awful. Absolutely awful. My throat, more than anything else, was killing me.

On Monday morning, October 12th, I called my Grandmother and asked her to come down and stay with me for a few days. When she got here, she insisted that we go to a walk-in clinic (I didn’t have insurance at the time, as I was in transition between insurances, and wasn’t going to be added onto Matt’s until early November). I hadn’t gone to the doctor yet because I figured it was just a common cold and my body was taking longer to fight it off.

I gave in, and we headed into the walk-in emergency room.

“I just have to ask, just to be sure, could you possibly be pregnant?” the nurse asked.

“Nope, I don’t think so,” I answered.

“Okay well before we prescribe anything, we do need to run a pregnancy test just to be sure.” she said.

I sat in the room with my Grandmother, waiting for the nurse to come back with the negative pregnancy test, so we could proceed with diagnosing whatever the heck was attacking my body.

“You’re pregnant!” the nurse bounced in the room, with a huge smile on her face.

“What!? How is that even possible?” I was absolutely, and entirely, shocked.

I was shocked, but it was certainly a combination of shocked and excited! Matt and I weren’t trying necessarily, but I suppose we weren’t not trying. I suppose.

My Grandmother burst into tears. I know that it was a combination of being happy for me, and wishing my Mom was here to share this moment with us.

“Well, sorry to say but this means that we can’t prescribe you anything, and all of your other flu tests came back negative, so you’ll just have to let this run its course unfortunately.” I wasn’t looking forward to letting this awful cold run its course, but I didn’t have much of an option!

Cheering instantly came to mind. I had heard that your first pregnancy can take a long time to “show”, so I figured I could keep cheering for a few months. We wore our winter uniforms pretty early anyway, so I’d be covered up by next month.

After the appointment, I took about 20 additional pregnancy tests just to be sure. Those two blue lines kept popping up, loud and clear!

I continued to push through the demon of a cold, and chugged warm lemon water and tea. As I’ve previously mentioned, I’m not into medication of any type, so I did my best to look up natural remedies for nasty colds. It just did not want to go away.

I knew that sometimes in the beginning of pregnancy, women come down with colds and light sickness due to their bodies getting ready for the pregnancy, but why was mine so intense? I had literally been deathly ill for over a month. It wasn’t even so much nausea, but just the flu-type sickness that wouldn’t budge.

One morning I cracked an egg open and two yolks fell into the pan. I never thought anything of it at the time.

The night before our first ultrasound, Matt and I went out to dinner and when were leaving I said I couldn’t believe how stuffed I felt.

“Maybe it’s twins!” I laughed.

“Ha, don’t even joke“. He said.

Our first ultrasound was ironically on the date of our anniversary from when we started dating – November 4th.

I got settled onto the table, with Matt sitting next to me in the chair. The ultrasound tech. began looking for the baby.

She stopped the probe, and began lots of clicking. She wasn’t speaking. I looked over at her, and she still wasn’t talking. I’m thinking, “Okay, well this is awkward“.

I look closer at the screen, and notice that something doesn’t look right. Matt’s looking at the screen too, and grabs my  hand and says, “Babe, look, there’s the baby” with a big smile on his face.

He’s never seen an ultrasound before – I have. And right there in that moment, we were looking at two babies, and the poor guy had no idea.

I didn’t say a word. I was stunned. And I was waiting for the tech. to say something. Anything!

“Well, you’re about 7 weeks along” she says, “and there are two babies in there”.

I’ve never seen Matt’s head jerk so fast in another direction. “What?”

The tech. smirked, and told us she’d be right back; she needed to get one of the other doctors.

Okay, now I’m freaking out. Why the heck did she leave like that?! And now I’m crying. Hysterically. And I mean, hysterically.

How am I going to fit two babies in here? How will we afford two? Why did she leave the room like that? Is something wrong with them? HOW am I going to fit two babies in here?!

Matt hugged me and assured me that it was all going to be great, and we’d be perfectly fine, and my belly would definitely make room for two babies. He is always the best when I’m at my worst.

It felt like an eternity before she came back.

The door finally opened. “Okay, I needed the doctor to look and make sure there was a dividing membrane between the babies, so make sure they each had their own amniotic sac. And they do! These are considered Monochorionic Diamniotic, also known as identical twins.”

Still crying, I just stared at her.

“You’ll be okay honey, this is great news! Twins are the best.”

It took about a month for Matt and I to get used to the reality of actually having two babies. I continued to be extremely sick, it took about 2 more months to finally feel a little better, and then the morning sickness really kicked in. I did the best I could to push through on game days, but it came to a point where I just couldn’t get through those long (nearly) 12 hour days anymore at the stadium.

As I became more obviously “out of it”, I felt it was time to talk to our director. I was so nervous that I was going to get kicked off the squad. It turns out, I got the opposite reaction. She was beyond kind and supportive when I met with her to tell her the news. She hugged me and told me everything was going to be great and that I was welcome to participate in any part of cheering that I still felt comfortable doing.

Before I knew it, around 14 weeks pregnant, my belly popped. Up until that point, I was nervous something was wrong because I figured with twins you showed a lot sooner. Reality set in that I was probably going to need to hang up my pom poms a lot sooner than I expected.

We kept the pregnancy a big secret, as I wanted to wait until the season was over to announce (especially since we were so close to heading back to the Super Bowl). It really is the hardest secret to keep – ever.

As 2015 was coming to a close, I couldn’t believe the incredible year I had just experienced. On my birthday (New Years Eve) I sat on the couch next to the dimmed christmas tree lights, and rubbed my belly.

I was having twins. Two babies. I was about to bring two sweet little souls into the world. I can’t help but believe that my Mom and Dad sent down these angels – one from each of them – to make my heart whole again. They gave me the best year I could have asked for, and the finale was blessing me with two tiny heartbeats on that ultrasound monitor.

I sat there, reliving all of the beautiful moments of 2015 in my head. Little did I know, the best was yet to come.

 

 

 

 

Starting a blog is pretty overwhelming. It’s like, where do you start? What do you start with? Especially when it’s a blog about pretty much anything. In my case, I wanted to start a blog as a form of a diary, so I can look back and read the story of my life when I’m too old to remember the details. So, here goes nothing! Or, maybe something. We’ll see.

Life became pretty interesting about 6 years ago, when my Dad was diagnosed with Sinonasal Undifferentiated Carcinoma (SNUC), which is an extremely rare form of cancer that affects the nasal cavity. His started there, and then spread to his brain, lymph nodes, and many other parts of his body. It began with a glimpse of hope that he’d do some chemo, have the surgery and do more chemo and be A-OK. But, the problem was, if the surgeon missed even one single cell, the cancer would spread like wildfire. And that’s exactly how it went.

About 6 months after his surgery, we were told that his cancer had returned, and he was given about 5 months to live. He survived a bit more than 5 months, but it was brutal. Absolutely brutal. My relationship with his partner wasn’t good, so it made visits extremely difficult and uncomfortable. There’s a whole story behind my relationship (or lack of) with her, but it’s not worth my time, and I prefer not to waste any form of energy on her memory.

The last couple of months with my Dad were unbearable to witness. The chemo side effects gave him sores the size of dimes all over his mouth, so it was nearly impossible for him to eat. He had to be on steroids and medications of all kinds that made him swell. He initially had the bone in his forehead replaced with artificial bone, but that had to ultimately be removed, so he had a large indent in his face. His vision was blurred, as the tumors behind his eyes cause his eyes to cross. He could only stay awake for an hour at a time. He wasn’t making much sense when he spoke. There were many times where I would just sit with him in silence on the couch, holding his hand. He had no idea where he was. But, he knew who I was. He always knew I was there.

I’ll always remember my last day with my Dad. We were up in his room, watching the Red Sox. I remember looking around the room at the hundreds of ‘Get Well’ cards and notes. He had a ‘Do Not Resuscitate’ order hanging outside his bedroom door. My heart would drop every time I walked in and saw it. I held his hand for what felt like forever. We didn’t say anything. He would look over at me every now and then and smile, then half-smile. He was in so much pain, but so numb at the same time. Before I left, I kissed him on his forehead, and told him I would see him tomorrow. I would see him tomorrow, but he wouldn’t see me. He passed very early the next morning. I received a phone call around 4am from his partner. I called my Mom, drove to her house, and we went to my Dad’s house to see him one last time.

I wanted to sit there with him forever. I was dreading having them come up and carry his body out. His partner came over and placed his wedding band on the table in front of me and told me I could have it. Wouldn’t she want to keep his band, considering she was his wife? I guess it didn’t mean that much to her, since they had only signed marriage papers 4 months prior. I went down to the basement where my Dad used to write and play his music. I found nothing. The basement was empty. His guitars, piano, Mac computer, speakers, microphones – all gone. I asked her where it all went, and she told me it was at the lawyers office, and the computer was out getting fixed and she’d have it back soon. All of my Dad’s music, everything of his, was on that computer. And it was gone. Why? I never knew why, and we never got any of it back. None of it.

Before my Dad got sick, I had never really lost anyone before. I didn’t know how to handle it. Does anyone, really? Things were pretty gloomy for a while, but I slowly learned how to handle the pain. I’d listen to his voicemails that he left me, put together a binder with pictures of us, and I started writing letters to him. It just felt good to get my feelings on paper, and writing to him felt somewhat like actually talking to him. My Mom played a massive role in getting me through it all. Like most girls say, my Mom was my rock; my solitude. She was my positivity every single day. Then, as if I thought things might be okay, I got some more crippling news.

My husband (boyfriend at the time) had gotten a new job, and we needed to move closer to make the commute easier on him. We decided to move in with my Mom and her husband in New Hampshire. I was so beyond excited to move back in and spend some quality time with her. I had moved down to Massachusetts when I became a Patriots Cheerleader, to be closer to Gillette Stadium. Although I’d have a long commute, it was worth it to see my Mom everyday.

We moved in on November 4th. After unpacking, my Mom and I were talking about things, like we always do, and then her face became very serious. “I’ve been really sick for a while now”, she said. My Mom was never, never sick. She took vitamins every day, drank a ton of water, drank tea like crazy. Her immune system was always strong. “What do you mean? How sick, like what doesn’t feel good?” I asked her. She told me that she had been having severe headaches for a while, like part of her skull was open and there was an air conditioner placed directly on that spot. She felt fatigued, lost her appetite, things like that. She said she had been to the doctors multiple times, and they had her taking something like 300mg of Advil a day (WHAT?). She claimed the doctors had run multiple tests and nothing serious was showing up. She said she would be ‘fine’, but she just needed to take it easy and keep taking the Advil.

I had a serious pit in my stomach.  Something was very wrong.

Over the next two weeks, I noticed my Mom was sleeping a lot, and she was pretty irritable. I tried making her our favorite meals (even chocolate chip cookies from scratch!) and nothing. I did some shopping and picked out some fun things for her, and when I brought them home to her, she was barely excited. I brought her to one of her doctors appointments. The doctor gave her a steroid shot in her thigh for the pain in her.. head? “Have you run every test you can for a smoker?” My Mom smoked. You could say she was the healthiest smoker there was, until now. She got her shot, and we went home.

Friday, November 15th, I had a promotion up north for the Patriots. When I came home that night, my Mom was slumped into the couch, crying hysterically. She ran to the bathroom and couldn’t stop throwing up.

She had been going to a local hospital, where they had run tests, checked her levels, etc. and then cleared her completely. They claimed that what she had was something relative to migraines and they recommended a neurologist. Clearly, they were way off… for months.

“We are going to Mass. General, right now”, I told her. I had told her the last two weeks that she really should go to Boston for a second opinion, and she kept saying no. Thinking back now, I feel as though she was afraid that they would find out what was really wrong, and she was afraid to hear the truth.

We got to Mass. General ER late that Friday night. Checking her into the hospital, I had no idea at the time that we would never check out.

After a day and a half of test after test, the doctor came in and asked us (myself and her husband) to sit down. My Mom had stage 4 lung cancer that had metastasized to her liver. There was no way to remove it, and she could attempt chemo, but she was given about 8 months to live.

I just lost my Dad. I’m not even close to being mentally okay. I needed my Mom. She was my rock. She literally carried me through the darkness of losing him. But in this moment, it wasn’t about me. It needed to be about her. I took her hand and laid my head down on the hospital bed beside her. She picked my head up and looked at me and said, “Honey, we will make tons of videos and write letters, we will make the most of the next few months, I could go into remission!”

There would be no remission.

That was the last full conversation that I ever had with my Mom. She spiraled that night, and over the next few days. Her heart rate was consistently in the 150’s. It felt like the monitor was beeping on overdrive. I can still hear the beeping, to this day. It was tough getting the nurses in when we needed them, so I ended up changing her bed pans. Never in my life did I ever think I’d be changing my Mother’s bed pans for her.

I didn’t understand why she spiraled so quickly. The doctors said that her increased breathing and discomfort was not a side effect of the cancer, but it was something else that they couldn’t find. They had asked her if she had been out of the country recently, which she hadn’t. They had no idea what caused her to spiral. I sat there, angry, confused, how could these doctors not know what was wrong with her?

I tried to get my Mom to have even the smallest conversation with me. I guess I was looking for some type of ‘goodbye’, and I wanted her tell me to be strong and that everything was going to be okay. She was too weak, and could barely keep her eyes open. The woman who had always, always pulled me from the dark and put a sun in my sky; the woman who taught me what a take-your-breath-away belly laugh was; the woman who found strength and positivity in literally a n y t h i n g, was leaving me.

I found myself in a very dark place, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever make it out. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to ever make it out.

A doctor came in the room and started explaining to me that whereas my Mom’s heart rate was so high, her heart would eventually become too weak and stop beating. She explained that this can be very terrifying and painful for her, and that I had the option to give the doctor permission to administer medication to stop her heart.

Permission to administer medication to stop her heart? Stop her heart? You want me to tell you when to stop my Mom’s heart?

It took all of the strength in my entire body to put my own feelings aside and look at what the doctor was presenting to me. My Mom’s breathing was getting worse and worse. The last thing I wanted was for her to be in fear or pain, more than she already was. I knew it killed her to be that weak and helpless in front of her daughter; the one person she lived to be strong for. I always wonder if that’s why she didn’t speak to me before she passed away.

Maybe it was too hard for her to accept the fact that she was leaving me.

I somehow consented to allowing the doctor permission, should that situation arise. I prayed and prayed and prayed for a miracle. I prayed every second that the doctor would burst through the door and say that they found out what was wrong with her. I prayed for even one more week with her.

Friday, November 22nd around 1am, I left the room to go and get a drink and something to eat. My Mom’s eyes were closed, and she was resting in her bed. About a minute after I left the room, my Mom’s husband text me “get back here now”. I ran back to the room, to find my Mom flailing on the ground, her eyes rolling back in her head, being lifted by about 5 doctors with masks and full body scrubs. At this point, my Mom was gasping helplessly for air.

I climbed on top of her, rubbing her head, telling her over and over, “It’s okay Mama, I’m here I’m here, I’m here with you”. All I could see were the whites of her eyes, as her chest repeatedly caved in as she desperately tried to breathe. The doctor came in and firmly asked me if I was ready to administer the medication.

I felt like there were a thousand knives being driven into my chest. The doctor asked me again, louder this time, as my Mom continued to suffer.

“Okay”, I cried.

I held my Mom’s hands and continued to rub her head and kiss her forehead, as they injected the medication into her IV. Slowly, breath by breath, my Mom left me there. She left me in that bed, in that hospital, in this world, alone.

How many people have watched someone die before? How many people have watched their parent die right in front of them? How many people lose their parents 3 months apart? How do you process something like that?

I climbed off of her, and sat in a chair in the corner of the room. People were asking me questions, and I couldn’t even hear them. I began to wonder if my Mom had tried to climb off the bed to follow me when I left the room. And began thinking it was my fault and that I shouldn’t have left her for even a minute. Up until that point, I hadn’t left the room. The minute I leave, this happens. I should have stayed.

What now? My Dad was gone. My Mom was gone. What now?

Thanksgiving was a few days later. And then Christmas came. And then my birthday on New Years Eve. Nothing was the same. Everything was dark. My Mom’s house was cold and empty. The pictures hanging were gray and lifeless.

I tried my best to resume my normal schedule as I thought it was best to attempt to stay distracted. I continued my 2nd year as a Patriots Cheerleader, and continued coaching the local youth cheerleading team.

Throughout every single second of this, I had my (now) husband by my side. He was always there. He let me cry, he let me talk, he let me be silent. He dragged me out of bed against my will. He didn’t let me have pity parties, he kept me strong and gave it to me straight.

The only one who can save you, is yourself.

I thought, my Mom and Dad are not here to give me the hug or advice that I need. Therefore, I need to be my own advocate for strength, and get inside my own head and keep myself going. If I give up, I will let them down.

If I give up, I will let myself down. Do. Not. Give. Up.

From the moment I lost my Mom, a lot of things changed for me. I lost the spark that I always had; the ability to giggle over anything, the ‘pep’ that always drove me, the desire to match my shoes with my top or my purse. I lost the desire for the main things in life.

I was a 23 year old who had experienced darkness that most people don’t see until they’re much older. When you’re 23, you’re supposed to be somewhat carefree and eager to see what life has in store for you. I wasn’t eager, I was scared.

I had to now somehow find and afford insurance in all areas, find a new doctor, find a new dentist, move back down to MA, go through my Mom’s and what was left of my Dad’s belongings. These things sound simple and kind of stupid to be concerned about, but trust me, when you’re on your own (and so abruptly) the world is a scary place.

When it came to handling the wills that my parents left behind, things got ugly. Both of my parents had remarried within the year that they passed. My Mom hadn’t updated some of the terms on her will, so there were some gray areas as far as the components that were in my name. Since my Dad was borderline unconscious the last couple of months before he passed, he was somehow convinced to change his will so that the majority of his assets went to his wife. This included a brand new Jeep that was purchased the month before he passed, that he somehow signed for even though he couldn’t hold a conversation. Perfect.

If you are reading this and you are a parent who has or are considering getting remarried, for the love of God, update your will and protect your children.

For months and months I couldn’t fall asleep without hearing the monitors beeping in the hospital. Hearing my own heart beat gave me panic attacks, as that’s all I could remember. I spent endless nights crying myself to sleep. Some days were okay. Some were hard. The 2nd and the 22nd of each month were sad reminders. Going through pictures, emails and letters was crippling.

I’ve never been one for medication, so I chose to skip the anxiety medications. I felt that it would just be a band aid for emotions that needed to be dealt with. I learned how to block the anxiety from creeping in. I chose to fight the thoughts about my parents altogether. I stopped looking at pictures, I stopped talking about them. Every time a thought would creep in, I would repeat in my head, “Think of nothing, think of nothing, think of nothing.” Some people would say that the ignorance is a band aid in itself, but it really worked for me.

Overtime, the emotion became more manageable. I will never say that it got easier, because it truthfully never does. But somehow, from all of the darkness, I feel as though I escaped a deadly car accident, and I made it out alive. I always thought that if something had ever happened to my parents, I would be dead too. But I’m still here. And to me, that is a miracle.

I see life so differently now. I don’t ever take things too seriously. I am constantly digging for the positive in every situation. I don’t sweat the small stuff, or the big stuff.

I am here, on this earth. I am breathing, walking. I can see, and I can hear. I am surrounded by incredible people.

My time to leave this earth could be tomorrow, it could be next year, or it could be 50 years from now. I look at at that way for the important people in my life, too. So I treat them that way. I cherish all of the special moments in my life, like they’re gold. I stop and look around as often as possible, and breathe in the moment.

I feel as though after such intense loss or emotional devastation, you can either spiral out of control, or you can move forward. I was lost in a crippling darkness, but I forced myself to push through, because I know that’s what they would have wanted.

I remember Googling “How to cope with the loss of both of your parents”, and I barely found anything. If my story can even help one person see the light, I’m happy.

It took me 4 years to write this without falling apart. I am finally strong enough to discuss it in depth. Although there are still some days that are difficult, I can feel my parents all around me, and I use their energy to find the light in it all. I’m grateful for the strength that they send me daily.

Life is hard. Some have it easy, some don’t. We all have our own obstacles. Whether big or small, they matter. It’s important to feel strong enough to manage them, whatever they may be. I strive to maintain an open mind about everything and everyone, and that is what works for me. I remind myself that pain is temporary, and manageable. It is not permanent. And when it gets really hard, remind yourself: tomorrow is a new day.