All I Want for Christmas

 I'm sure I could post my actual list, laundry pedestals for under the washer/dryer, a wallpapered powder room, an abolishment of brown trim and fans, a painting that reminds of the PIP (Pawleys Island Patrol aka pelicans...we always had a contest how many in a row we could see); but all I really want for Christmas is something that costs so very little. 

After Dad died one of  his sailing buddies sent me a beautiful photo of him looking out into the ocean. I had never seen this picture before and it described him perfectly. Several of my family friends husbands sent me texts about memories they had with Dad, hunting or traveling, and how much they were going to miss him. Another old New Orleans friend sent me fishing pictures from the good ole days and my own Preschool Teacher sent a note and a book. The note had all of us in tears, and I almost used it as my eulogy. One of his co-workers that I have never met wrote the most beautiful tribute on facebook, about what a mentor Robin had been for him. When we had our first meeting with Reverend John Ohmer at All Souls, he began telling us a story that on his first day at work Dad asked him to lunch and what he thought was just going to be a quick sandwich was a few hours of helpful tips, a lay of the land, and comradery. These stories were a side of Dad I never got to see.

When Mom died her friends did the same. I received a letter from one of her best friends about those first years in North Carolina when Mom didn't have many friends and how strong she was. Another messaged me pictures of BB and her dressed up for a school play. Her dear Jazzercise friends even showed up the day after Dad's funeral with champagne and hugs. 

People don't realize what a profound impact gifts like this have. You could never buy me another Christmas present again and instead send me a story or photo from the lives of my parents and I would cherish it forever.  

Grief brain is a real thing, and has wiped my memory of my favorite idioms and stories and sayings my parents shared with me. I'm struggling to remember the details of so many adventures they described to me over the years. And the most heartbreaking thing is I only have two recent voicemails of Dad's and they are from the hospital. I should have learned my lesson from Mom but we talked so frequently I didn't have enough voicemails to save.

So if you are in the giving spirit this Christmas, it would mean the world to me if you would at some point in the future send a picture, or a story, or either. There just aren't words to describe what my Mother and Father were like. They were movie stars to me; hysterical, kind, compassionate and loving leading characters in a life that I could only hope to live up to.

Isabel if you are out there this was one of the greatest gifts I have ever received:

Gone

She's gone, she's gone!

He's gone! I'm so sorry Katharine he's gone!

These were the words spoken by my father and brother when I lost my mother and father respectively. 

Gone. 

We didn't know how critical his status was. I knew they were concerned and that morning I had texted Max who was in uber important work meetings; "I think you need to come home as soon as you can". I don't like to bother Max during golf or work so I felt terrible texting this, but the urgency of the updates deemed it necessary. He got on the road immediately.

That day Beau and I had multiple conference calls with my Dad's doctor and his surgeon. Was this the right choice? The hip had to come out, if it didn't the sepsis would kill him. But the surgery could kill him. Did he want extraordinary measures? Why hadn't he updated his living will since Mom died. Beau and I tried to make the best decisions we could on these conference calls but I felt like I was having an out of body experience. I mean try your hardest but don't break his ribs doing CPR? I don't know??

I got a call later in the afternoon asking if our family friend Alice could come sit with him post surgery. The woman on the phone was so kind as I explained through tears I was trying to get there. 

I just couldn't find childcare. 

What I didn't know was her phone call was to find someone to hold his hands as he had just died.

"He's GONE; I'm SO sorry, he's gone!"

My brother's voice was more emotional than I have ever heard it. He was indeed so very sorry. Of course neither of us were there. Beau had spent two weeks in Asheville and flown out that very morning; I had to come home due to Max's travel so I wasn't there either.

He's gone.

Can I come? Can I come hold his hand and say goodbye? Can he hear me tell him I love him??! I asked between sobs. A babysitter (a dear friend's own mother and a grandmother herself) had arrived and I was showing her the new lay of the land when the phone rang. I collapsed on the ground. Amelie was confused and Tobie herself perplexed what status update I had just been informed of.

I called Alice. It was too late. He was already getting cold. The last kiss on his forehead a week prior was my last goodbye. I didn't get to hold his hand. I couldn't get there in time for goodbyes. 

He was gone. Robin Boylan, "Beano" was gone. GONE. 

To so many of you this was months ago. To me this was yesterday. I have written at length about my relationship with my mother but to put my life with my father into words one would need an unknown amount of volumes.

I was a Daddy's girl. Our similarities were unmatched. He was who I talked to every single day of my life. We loved the same things, we hated the same things. Traditions were our cornerstone. We had weathered Mom's death together. 

He is gone.

I am not okay. If you knew him, if you knew him at all you understand this. If he ever entertained you in his home or at Pawleys or pretended he was entertaining in a place not his home, you know what this loss is like. It's monumental. 

Its been over two months and it is yesterday to me. It is unfathomable that he is not here. It is not registering in my mind that he won't be lighting the fire Christmas morning and playing the Carols from Clare CD and turning on all the Christmas magic.

It is heartbreaking that the world's best two parents are no longer with us. 

I am devastated. And somehow I must trudge on; as I have kids my own I need to turn on the magic for.

Gone. I still don't believe it. I miss you so much Dad.

Robin Boylan's Jazz Funeral Reception

 Dear Friends and Family, 

I apologize I am just getting this information out to you all. Planning a celebration of life during Covid, a liquor shortage and a flower shortage has been interesting to say the least. 

Dad's service will be on Friday October 29th at 10:00am at the Cathedral of All Souls in Biltmore Village. Masks are required for the service so that we may seat to capacity. The service will also be live streamed in the Zabriskie Parish Hall and available to stream from home with this link.

After the service the family will go to the interment in the Garth. At this time you may head to the reception site. For those of you not attending the reception there will be a brief receiving line in the Zabriskie Hall or the Church breezeway weather depending. 

Our dear friends from New Orleans, Tommy and Linda Westfeldt, have offered to host Dad's reception at the Rugby Grange Farm. It is where Max and I were married and the site of hundreds of memories over the years of our two families. It is about a 20-30 minute drive from the Church. 

Maps will be available at the Church. If you would like the address beforehand please reach out to a member of the family. There is a field near the Grange that will be marked for parking. It is a short walk to the Grange on a gravel road and we will have a few golf carts to drive those that need assistance. 

I urge those of you coming to please carpool. There is an Ingles on Sweeten Creek Road close to St. John's Road you can regroup car wise. Also keep an eye on the weather and dress/pack extra clothes accordingly. (The most Robin Boylan thing to type ever). I suggest using Waze as Asheville traffic is something to behold and make sure you put the city as Fletcher.

There will be drinks and music and food and revelry. And I would love if you would sign the guest book that will be at both the Church and the Reception and possibly include a memory of Robin.

Thank you all for loving our Beano. 

Love,

Katharine

Two Months to 40 (A stream of consciousness)

This was 1?

I'm having a HARD time accepting that I'm approaching 40. And by approaching I mean I'm on a bullet train and they have already announced this gigantic mid-life benchmark is the next stop. I still think I'm in my late 20's or early 30's. I swear College was just 10 years ago. 

The truth is I have not been taking good care of myself. I probably drink a tad too much wine. I don't exercise. At all. I'm ashamed of it but I can't figure out when. I used to do a lot of night work, like 8:30pm-10:30pm and I'm the one on kid bus duty at 6:52am so I couldn't swing a 5am workout, I tried those and I was exhausted by 9pm. Lunch was out of the question because I worked straight through it for the overtime or used that for errands/kid appointments/etc. And don't even ask me how many diet cokes I drink a day. 

Looking back on the past decade of my 30's I see the two greatest gifts of my life; Ford and Amelie. They have brought me more joy (and have aged me more) than I could have ever imagined. 

This was 31

I have made it a point lately to slow down and just sit with them. Listen to Amelie's made up language, hold Ford's hand coming back from the bus stop. Children, and me admittedly, really just want your time and attention and love.

This was 34

Looking back I also see my Mom's journey with Alzheimer's. I know I shouldn't but if you asked me to describe my 30's in one word it would be sh*tshow. I was raising kids and working and helping with Mom whenever I could. I might have been two hours away but I think Dad and I talked almost every single morning about BB. Her status, things she did, what we thought we should do next, lots of tears. It was an impossible decade. It was an incredible decade. But I will admit it has left me exhausted. BB's Alzheimer's spanned the entire 10 years. Her diagnosis was in 2011 (but could have been earlier) and her death in 2018.... with me just now slowly climbing out of this hell hole of grief. Last summer I spoke for an Alzheimer's event and one of the keynote speakers said something that has resonated with me ever since. Alzheimer's changed the trajectory of his family's life. Forever. All future holidays and birthdays and memories were permanently changed and altered from the disease and what it did to them. 

This was 3

The other reason I'm thinking so much about my birthday is that birthdays were a big deal growing up. Unless a huge snow canceled my party (which happened multiple times) we always always celebrated. St. Patty day themes, Mom hiding Easter eggs for all the kids, a super fancy dinner at Joe's Crab Shack with a Matchbox 20 concert. Even into my 20's my parents would send flowers to wherever I was working. My Mom's love language (besides telling everyone she loved them) was giving gifts. I think the most spoiled I ever was, was the birthday after we got married. My Mom and Dad got me my first Barbour jacket (which come to think of it needs to be re-waxed) and Juliska goodies and fancy napkins and literally showed up with balloons and flowers. It never mattered the actual gift, it was her presentation of the day. 

This was 30 

My 30th was a favorite, when asked what I wanted to do I told my parents I just wanted a good old fashioned Boylan house party with Dad's red beans. And party we did..

This was 28

I worked in an office back then and me and the "guys" (the 10 guys in the QA lab at the software company I worked for) always went out for me and Willie's bday....complete with cake and basketball brackets. Don't laugh but if you don't have an office environment your birthday is forgotten. And you might be like seriously Katharine? We will drop off a Publix cake...but it was just the camaraderie. Don't lie, you like facebook birthdays. I do too.

 Our first lunch at Roosters was with my best friend Elie and her soon to be husband and happened to be on my birthday. Some years I would just pamper myself, pedicures, blow-outs, and lunch at Dean and Deluca (RIP). Last year I bolted to Florida as it was also Mom's one year anniversary. 

This was 35

This was 37

This year I think I'm just having a girls weekend in Asheville. And maybe one before with College friends. And maybe another in May. Or I might just bolt to some quiet beach house stocked with wine and books. 

This was 27 (And a bachelorette party)

But I'm not excited about it. It's 40. I'm scared of genetics. My grandparents didn't live past 65. My mother died at 69. I cannot see in dim light. Anyone else? I hate driving at night. I have some weird thing called meibomian gland dysfunction. I have receding gums, and from the Wells pic below I must have a receding hairline. Seriously why is my hair still falling out? I thought for sure we would be in our forever house by now (Like one with a garage and a play room and HARDWOOD FLOORS). I thought I would know what I wanted to do when I grew up by now. 

Today marks 10 years at my current job (I'm writing this waiting for a meeting to start) and sometimes I feel like I'm treading water career-wise. I'm insanely grateful that I can work form home and balance kid duties and work duties but approaching 40 has me wondering if I could have done more? Have I settled for mediocrity?  I definitely thought I would have Leontine Linens (or Matouk or Biscuit bedding) by now and would have fixed what my children did to my abs. (They straight massacred them) I still don't even know what wrinkle cream works with acne prone skin and NEVER figured out how to do beach waves. Seriously, why can 14 year olds do this and I cannot.

Is this a pity party? I don't care if anyone thinks so. (Repeat that to myself b/c I do care but I'm a project)  I'm sure someone else out there feels like this and this will resonate with them. If there is one thing I am working on its to stop caring so much what people think of me. This is HARD HARD work for a people pleasing insecure anxiety ridden Enneagram 2. But I am the happiest when I am being 100% Katharine. And if I'm being the best mother and wife and friend I can be all while remaining my silly enthusiastic self, I think that is a win.

This was 28

I daydream about what Mom would have planned for this year. It has been so long since she had her own thoughts I honestly have no idea. In 2015 I invited a group of girls up to Asheville and I went up a day early to hang birthday banners. I remember being on my tippie toes with push pins in my teeth decorating the mantle and my Mom asking, what is that for? She didn't know. And I think ever since then I have made it my responsibility to take charge of that day. 

Pedis and Blowouts with BB in 2014

So to all you 1980's babies, tell me what you are doing for self care. How you are celebrating? And if you want to watch two kids and two dogs so we can run away to an island just text me.

This was 26

The Unrelenting Tide

In 2011 a tidal shift took hold of our BB. A disease became an ebbing tide, slowly taking my mother piece by piece out to sea. A sea that became so angry and violent there was no chance of rescue. There would be periods of slack tides, and even a glimpse of the water rising and toying with our hopes that she had returned. But each day it carried her farther and farther away with its relentless pull. This disease decimated her motor skills, erasing any memory of how to cut a rug to Van Morrison with my father. She could no longer drive to get her caramel macchiato, much less hold a caramel macchiato in her hand. Little bits and pieces of the intricacies that made her who she was slipped under the dark waters never to be seen again. All in seven years.

This is what Alzheimer's does. It takes. It steals. There is no resistance. There are no life preservers. No Coast Guard. While it feels like an ebbing tide to outsiders, it is a rip tide to the hearts of loved ones. The family survives only with the expertise of the Alzheimer's Association, Memory Care, Hospice, support from friends and family, and from those that have lost their own to this unforgiving sea.

Grief ironically enough is also its own tide. You pray for the slack tide so that you can resume your life but it is rare, grief is ever present and always moving. It can be slow enough to allow you to miss your triggers, or it can be a tidal wave of emotions over seeing a grandmother with her family at swim lessons. A grandmother filming her grandson. She looked to be older than BB and could still use a phone. I sometimes get perplexed when I see people older than my mother doing things like driving, feeding themselves, shopping, using technology. Simple every day tasks my mother couldn't do in her mid 60's.

All I have remaining are stories told to me through her belongings. Her rosary found in the back of her dresser drawer, lip gloss tubes, expired licenses, seventy eight pairs of mismatched earrings, her favorite boat shoes, that perfect yellow top from Talbot's, blank greeting cards, matchbooks and letters.

And my own memories of her. For now. What if Alzheimer's takes those from me? What if Amelie and Ford have to watch my deterioration the way I experienced BB's? What if Amelie has to help me use the bathroom, bathe me, dress me, put me in a nursing home, listen to me scream obscenities at her for a four hour car ride. These are real fears. I haven't been able to start fundraising this year because I haven't been able to write. Is it because I don't have any more stories about my beautiful mother or is it something else? Is my mind slipping?

There is STILL no cure for this disease. No prevention. No miracle drug. Only emails and articles about a trial with mice somewhere that might have shown something.

Please consider donating to our Krewe BB in this year's Charlotte's Walk to End Alzheimer's. We HAVE to end this disease. We have to give hope to MILLIONS, yes Millions, of adult children that have been through the hell of watching a parent die from Alzheimer's.

Katharine's Walk Page HERE

Hints of Spring and Reminders of Hospice

This past year has been a blur. But this stretch from Christmas to my Mom's anniversary has been cold, dark, very damp and well....just sad. It's a stretch with no major holidays except Mardi Gras and if you aren't in New Orleans you are just reminded you aren't....well....in New Orleans.

These days the stretch of our Hospice care is replaying in my mind every single day. Was this the day I went up there? Was this the day she smiled? Which day did we begin to stop feeding her? Should I have gone up there more? Daffodils are blooming just as they were at the Elizabeth House we moved her to. An abnormally warm sunny day reminds me of the when we all sat outside her patio and snuck in a much needed bloody mary. Unannounced flurries take me back to the morning of her funeral when it snowed in Asheville.

I think because my birthday is literally five days before her death; the anticipatory countdown for March 14th is now also aligned with her anticipatory decline ending on March 19th. March in the past was for visits from mom and dad. She made birthdays a big deal. Not with lavish gifts and facebook posts but with party planning, thoughtful little touches, hugs and attention. They would come to town bearing too many gifts, flowers, candles, red beans from the freezer, and we would do our annual boozy lunch at Roosters to watch the ACC Tournament. Mom would help me decide on how to spruce up a few rooms, Dad would fix this and that, hang these and those, and they would leave my house a little more beautiful than when they had arrived.

If you think I'm being dramatic it really is just part of my personality. My Kangaroo Court punishment back in the 90's (a camp thing) was that everything reminded me of something else. This is preschool soup! I smell rain coming in 30 minutes! Definitely the same hairspray as Mom's AquaNet! 

Everywhere I look signs of spring remind me of Mom. I hear the birds outside singing and the Rufous Towhee says "Drink your Teaaaa". My mama taught me that. My parents used to fix cocktails and have me walk around their garden with them quizzing me on all the flowers beginning to bloom. Crocus were always first and usually met their demise from a late snowfall. Then the daffodills, tulips, dogwood, iris, I could go on and on. So many nights we would run outside with sheets and heavy rocks to save our plants from a Dogwood Winter. Now I have her iris in my garden. I have a gigantic Sweet Olive that when it blooms smells exactly like walks in the Garden District I took with my parents during our few visits back to their hometown. 

I'm an empath, and a pisces, and someone so in love with routines and traditions and memories. I should busy my mind and throw myself into exercising or reading or organizing but the weight of what we went through just a year ago is heavy and I am tired. I miss her. I feel like the John Pavlovitz article in that everyone has moved on and I have not. You don't get over a death, you just learn to live with the pain. 

       "But if there’s anything I would tell you, as someone who’s walked through the Grief Valley, is that the time your presence is most needed and most powerful, is in those days and weeks and months and years after the funeral; when most people have withdrawn and the road is most isolating. It is in the countless ordinary moments that follow, when grief sucker punches you and you again feel it all fully."

I miss my Mother. Even the bed-stricken, mumbling, agitated, docile, almost unrecognizable version she became. I miss holding her hand, brushing her hair out of her face, and the tiny flash of recognition I could see in her eyes when I would come into her room. Nobody loves you like your mother. Not because they can't, but because they didn't carry you in their womb for almost ten months. Because they didn't have your heart beating inside their body. Because that love is once in a lifetime and unique to her.

Our Parents are Dying

I have wanted to write this post so many times and I stopped because I was afraid of what people would think of the title. Which is ridiculous because what I write is mostly for me, and also for the people that are going through the same heartbreak.

I remember when my first friend got married. And then the 2nd, and then 3rd, 4th, 5th...etc. Wedding season was the absolute best. Sure we complained about the costs but we were invited to open bar dance parties for entire weekends. It was pure bliss. 

Then the babies came. I loved baby showers mainly because I had no idea about gear, clothing...etc. Then came baby sprinkles (2nd showers) and now come 40th birthday parties.

But for some of us amidst all the celebratory milestones of our 30's, comes the worst phase of them all. 

Our parents are dying. 

Maybe not for some of you, but for some of us we are knee deep in it. I entered this phase in 2011 when Mom's diagnosis was official and still haven't quite left. I don't think you ever graduate this stage until you become orphans. 

In 2016 my Aunt died from sudden cardiac arrest. She was the Aunt I saw the most, and the one I inherited so many traits from. She was a Rockbrook girl, an OCD planner, a Queen of Oberon, and a damn good time. 

Dad and his indescribable sister Aunt Kathleen Cowart

In 2017 my dear friend lost her father. And then my crazy Nashville cousins lost their father. In 2018 I lost my mother. And in 2018 two other friends lost their mothers to Alzheimer's. Before the end of 2018 two other friends lost their fathers. 

Over the past seven days a friend has lost his father, another friend has lost his father, and this weekend my friend lost her father to Alzheimer's. 

I didn't imagine it would be like this. I still think I'm in my early 30's. (Spoiler Alert: I'm not.) Grandparents are supposed to be trekking to Disney with us. They should be telling inappropriate jokes to our children, micromanaging our holiday menus, and lecturing us on thank you notes. I still haven't been duck hunting or fly fishing with my Dad and am worried we are running out of time. (Dad is fine, I think Mom's death has me on high alert)

My Grandparents Kay and Bob Boylan with their dear friends Big T and Betty Ann Myer

My parents were both orphans by the time they were 35. All my grandparents died young and while I was only 3 at the time I never understood the importance of grandparents in kids lives, much less in their own children's lives. How did my parents deal with losing all of their parents so young?  They picked up and moved from their beloved New Orleans to Arden, NC and I'm sure the change of scenery must have helped. I don't remember ever seeing Mom upset but I was also so young. I remember growing up hearing stories of the infamous Bob Boylan. I remember Mom sometimes getting teary eyed saying she wished her parents could have known me. My brother is 13 years older than me so he got to at least know this older generation a little more than I did.

My Mother with her mother, Dorothy Duffy Brown

But since I never had grandparents I didn't know what I was missing. Mom, how did you cope with the death of your mother? What were those early years in Asheville like? Were you jealous of your friends who had two healthy parents? Did it strengthen your relationship with your children? I feel like my mother's death has made me be more intentional with my time and love with my kids. Amelie's bedtime routine takes forever but sometimes I tell my brain to shut up and just lay there and play with her hair until she falls asleep.

I don't like this phase. But it is one we will all inevitably go through, I just never thought it would be now. I figured they would all live to at least 80? Mom never saw 70.

I want you to know that if you have a friend in this phase that reaching out, maybe even monthly, or weekly, is the best thing you can do. It is lonely and sad and isolating. I have a separate post I will write about the best things you can do when a friend has lost a parent, but if you have a friend going through the early stages here are a few things you can do.

Send a card. 

Send a text/DM/facebook message.

Drop off something to their house.

Ask with interest how their parent is doing. 

It hurts more than I thought and I get a new message from a friend what feels like once a week now with Hospice questions. I want those friends to know that I will answer any question with love and am here for anything you need.

Lastly, cherish your parents. Think about your own parenting and look back at all the amazing things they did for you. What I hear from other grandparents is they just want time, pictures and love from their kids/grandkids. Make sure you are sending it to them!!!

Marie Kondo + Tidying + Grief

I have had the Marie Kondo book on my bedside table for years. YEARS. I have a LOT of books on my bedside table I would like to read. I just never get to read. I think I read 1 book a year at the beach. I'm a heavy sleeper (or I was) and by the time my head hits the pillow I'm out. (Thank you Melatonin gummies)

Anyways, unless you have been living under a rock you know all about Kondo's new show on Netflix, tidying up.

I have OCD but no time. My house seems tidy but don't open any doors or drawers or look in any corners. The hard truth is we don't have a playroom and our formal living room is my office, so we are out of creative space for kid stuff. That's an entirely separate post. I have been using Marie's method to slowly get out some of the stuff we have accumulated over the 12 years we have been in this house. I do like her idea of thanking something before giving it away. I saw the Brave Little Toaster too young and I sometimes think my "stuff" has feelings. Yes I'm crazy. Yes I sleep with a baby blanket. Yes I'm a total SAP.

I leave Netflix on in the background while I work and the episode about the widow started. I cried most of the way through. And when she began her work on his pile of clothes? Sobbing. And can I just say her kids are total assholes for not helping her through this process???

When Mom moved into the nursing home we got rid of a large amount of her clothes. Things she couldn't fit in anymore, things that were too complicated to get on, and things she had bought in the more advanced years of Alzheimer's while she still had a check card. For example: Team Edward shirts and the stuff at Chico's that even Michael Phelp's mom wouldn't wear. Yep, Mom was die hard team Edward.

My brother, father and I took about 10 huge garbage bags to our Church in Asheville for their crisis assistance ministry of all BB's purses, shoes, extra clothes. It was cathartic as we laughed at things she had bought, cried at some of her favorites, and kept the most special items. Mom was a giver and I know she would love the idea of other women enjoying her beautiful things.

When Mom died last year I took home those most special items. But I should reclarify that and say mostly special items. To this day I am still having a hard time of getting rid of her things. I think I know in my heart I should save maybe 10 items? But what about all the other cute cord jackets and long tunic tops she was so famous for? And looked so chic and adorable in? She had a tinier build than I do so lots of it I can't wear. I have her first pair of Kate Spade's. That was a big purchase for her and I.....she wore them to my rehearsal dinner. And her first Tory Burch Reva's are waiting for Amelie. 

I just don't want her to go. I know she is gone but once all her clothes are gone her scent is gone. I think it is the time of year we are entering. We were literally on BB watch at this time last year. She was in Hospice at this time but not yet at the Hospice house. 

As we approach the year mark I feel the pressure to move on. To begin my life without always bringing my mother up. But here's the deal: I can't yet. I watched her die for seven years. We went through a heartbreaking and agonizing process of watching my mother's mind die. Alzheimer's is brain death. And since there is still no cure I'm not going to stop talking about her. Not until we find a cure. For those friends of mine that have been through this, how did you reduce the amount of "things" you held onto? 

I want to leave you with this amazing company that I have been cyberstalking for years. I think I have finally picked two pieces to send but it has been hard to choose. 

Little Grey Line is in Raleigh and she creates the most beautiful works of art with clothing. Here are just a few samples. I think Amelie will have a new beach dress for this summer and Ford/Kody/Wilder will have new bow ties. *If* I can narrow down my choices!

Six Months

My beautiful mother died six months ago. I wish I could say it has gotten easier, but if anything, life has gotten so much harder. 

The moment she died... and every second leading up to her funeral.... was planning. And in some crazy way it was enthusiastic planning about a celebration we knew was coming. The Jambalaya was on the stove, the friends on the road, her monogrammed napkins ordered. We were able to see so many people that she loved and in return felt their love for her. We reminisced, toasted, cried, laughed. It was absolutely perfect.

And then I came home.

And then the days and months that followed became quiet, and lonely, and I became angry. I don't have any new BB stories, videos, pictures. The amount I have is finite. I can't hold her hand, stroke her hair, see that almost distant twinkle in her eye. Read a text, or an email, or hear a voicemail. I only have one recording of her voice singing "Show me the Way to go Home". I can't hear her mutter I love you one last time. Amelie will point at her picture and say, "your Mommy is in heaven." 

This disease manifested itself in my mother's brain and slowly, over the course of seven years, ripped every shred of her being away. 

It began with little things, missing words, getting lost, paranoia seeping in. 

Then major paranoia, inability to do simple things, anger, lots of anger at loved ones. Mostly loved ones. 

Then it took away her freedoms. To drive, to work, to type, to read. To garden, to dance, to play solitaire.

Then it took away her basic necessities. To speak, to hug, to walk, to talk. To recognize us.

Alzheimer's doesn't hold back. It will dissolve every single molecule that built the person you loved. It will make you watch as they can no longer use the bathroom, as they entertain crazy fears in their brains. As they blame you for the most ridiculous things. As they forget who they are, who you are, what anything is for. They will drink hand sanitizer, they will wash their hands in the toilet, they will blame things broken in the house on bears. BEARS.

I watched this disease do this to my Mom. I watched even before her official diagnosis in 2011. I watched after diagnosis as her test numbers went down, as her dependencies went up, as we lost her day by day and second by second.

She was taken from us not by a Tsunami but a slow eroding merciless tide and we were helpless. 

I miss her every single day. I miss her so much now with the holidays coming. I can't go into a HomeGoods without sobbing at the seasonal decor. I need her in this rough exhausting phase of motherhood/wifehood/livelihood. How did she do it all? How did she do it all with a smile on her face and fresh flowers in the house? How did she always look beautiful and smell like Chanel? What was her secret? What did she not get to tell me about how hard and wonderful her late 30's/early 40's were? 

It is unfair what this disease did to her. And to us. And to the entire community of people that loved her. She should be here, letting Gumbo up on her bed. Dancing with my father on their deck, helping me decorate for the holidays or just hugging me. Holding my hand. Stroking my hair. She should be at Jazzercise with her friends, at Thanksgiving at Chipmunk Hill. I miss her touch. The soothing touch of a mother to let you know it will all be okay.

She should be here. And Alzheimer's took her from us. 

There is still no cure. And still no prevention. This is why I walk and why I obnoxiously ask for money every single year. I won't stop until there is a cure. 

My Walk donation Link:

http://act.alz.org/site/TR/Walk2018/NC-WesternCarolina?px=6247682&pg=personal&fr_id=11364

#CLT for Charlotte

Our Mom community here in Charlotte is a strong one. One of my friends I have met through this community and through blogging is going through the unimaginable. April Robson writes for Smidge of This and has always reached out to me during my fundraising for Alzheimer's and just in general as Mom's health continued to decline. She makes hair bows for little girls and created one just for Krewe BB and donated her proceeds to our walk. 

Earlier this week April's daughter Charlotte was diagnosed with Leukodystrophy, a rare, incurable and terminal disease. As you can imagine her family is heartbroken with this diagnosis and they are going to spend their next moments loving and caring for their baby girl. 

Currently the family has asked for us to let them have their privacy but if you want to help you can do the three following things immediately:

1. Prayer. This disease can be genetic so we are asking for prayers for the health of her two other children. Also prayer for Charlotte to be wrapped in love and comfort as there is no treatment plan for her at this time.

2. A Go Fund Me account has been set up for the Robson family. Both April and her husband are self employed and the most of these visits are uncovered. This will also help with meals, care for the other two children, etc.

3. There is an Amazon wish list to make things a little easier for them.

April we are all praying for you and your beautiful family and are ready with open arms for anything you could possibly need.