5.

This. This is how she'd love you to remember her. Cheers to a life well lived, loved and full of laughter.

5 Birthdays.
5 Christmases.
2 Grandchildren.
Somehow, though, we knew you were there - and there we were, looking for your signs. We have held onto your "life is for the living," and we hold onto each other tight. Just like you held on to each one of us. Love you, Ma. More. 

...

Today marks the 5th anniversary of my Ma "crossing the rainbow bridge," the lovely metaphor she used for breaking the news of a loved ones death to me so many times over the course of our almost 35 years together. Somehow, though, when talking about your own Mom, it's not as picturesque or breezy.

It's true that anniversaries are tough - milestone ones, tougher. But to be perfectly honest, I have to tell you that from June 11-24th of every year since 2012, I have relived each day as if it were happening for the first time. Taking her into the hospital, calling Dad to get there, listening to the doctors each day, missing a morning with her to check the baby's heartbeat at my own appointment, witnessing her saying goodbyes and thank yous to loved ones, overhearing private conversations between my parents "You can date, you just can't remarry," telling Aunty Cookie and Uncle Don to get on a plane now... all of it. I feel like it's just happening for the first time. Even to today, the fifth anniversary of when I asked her Peruvian doctor in front of her, "¿Ella está muriendo hoy, sí?" to which he tearfully responded while looking away, "Sí. Lo siento mucho..." It's all very real, very current, and I don't foresee it going away any June soon. And I used to like the month of June.

I do have regrets. I wish I didn't honor all of her wishes and had friends and family come to see her. I would have happily applied her lipstick each time. I mean, Auntie Sharon had seen her through her teenage years, so what was the difference now? But to her, it mattered. It mattered more at that moment than anything. And honestly? I knew the time we had was so short I didn't want to feel any more cheated than I already did, so I obliged. So to those who didn't get the time that I did, I am deeply, deeply sorry.

...

The New Normal sucks. Sucks the wind out of your sails, sucks the breath from your chest, just sucks sucks sucks. I'm sorry for all of the times I've used that phrase to my friends who have lost a parent in the years since Ma... it's just protocol in helping others along through the passing of who made you who you are. A lifelong friend of mine, Bobby, told me he divides his life into the timeline: "Before Ma, After Ma"... I can see that...that may be a better way to phrase it since this life without her is anything but normal. "BM, AM" from now on. Although calling life with her the "BM" would really have pissed her off.

...

There are still some days that I honestly don't know how I get up and function in this world without her. But then there are my two little ones who are up with the early morning sunshine, excited about what each day brings: asking for a hug and some more chocolate milk, or telling me that they "love me more," and I get it together. One of the greatest responsibilities I have as a parent is making sure my children know the ones who have lived and gone before them. Judging by the excitement in their eyes when we call Papa's house on speaker and they hear her voice still on the machine, by the joy in their eyes when they see a rainbow, and by the thrill of finding that red cardinal bird nearby, I think I'm doing a darn good job. And if I'm not, just tell me I am anyway.

...

A close friend of mine lost her last remaining parent, her father, just recently after a brief illness. It was so important for me to quietly be there for her, as she has supported me, advised me, and guided me over the years, knowing herself what life is like after losing a Mom. It's a crappy club that someday we will all be a part of and until it's your time to join, you cannot even fathom what it's like to be in. I will never forget that while giving my Ma's eulogy, I looked up into a sea of faces and she was the only one I saw, standing along the back wall. With a nod, she gave me the confidence to continue when I didn't think I could.

In the days since her father's crossing of the rainbow bridge, she has said more than once to me that she "didn't know how I could get through that" reading - and the truth is it was because of her:  the nod of her head, and the knowledge I always had a friend to lean on if I needed it. So to that friend: you know who you are, thank you for always being there, understanding and nodding when I needed you to the most.

So with that, in the spirit of keeping my Ma's memory alive, I thought it was important to share again the words I spoke at her memorial service. So here goes...

Very glad to see that you are wearing one of Ma’s favorite colors: Black.
Whether you called her: Margie, Marge, Midge, Midgie, Bridge, Bridget, Large Marge (her personal favorite), Lanny, Lumpy, Margeeee, Gee Gee, Godzilla, Auntie Margie, Uncle Margie, Margie go beep beep, Mick or Big Momma, to me, she was one syllable: Ma.

Amazing, isn’t it, that such a short syllable embodies such a character, but it’s her great influence, strength, kindness and thoughtfulness that gathers us here today. By the way, she would be a little upset about all of this fanfare for her. If you’ve wondered why you can’t give her a face-to-face sendoff: it’s because absolutely NO ONE would have been able to have ratted and puffed up her hair to the proper specifications! We all know that is true.

We know family and friends have come great distances to be here. So if you are family, know Ma lived for you. If you are a friend, know she cared for you. Regardless of which, know she always thought about you. If she made you Monster Cookies, took you to a New Kids Concert, or sent you pictures or greetings, she spoiled you. She even gave Kennedy the dog only bottled water – nobody could make you feel more special than my Ma did. – She did these things in her way, where half the time someone would say, “Got your Mom’s card,” and I had no idea what they were talking about. Always loving each and every one of you, behind the scenes.

For those of you who have followed the Carepages site that detailed what the last two weeks have been like, you know that this came out of no where. Nothing could have been done to have changed the course of the outcome, so we are relieved to know she didn’t have to go through this for a long duration. Ma deserved to go out in style: with the strength and grace she has always shown. But it’s funny when you spend days in the hospital – things start to run together, time doesn’t make sense. Every day we were there once the pain meds kicked in, Ma thought it was Sunday. I’d tell her, “No, Ma, it’s Wednesday,” and she would look at me like I had three heads. Anyway, Ma loved Sundays – the day family was together, the day her parents would come over years ago – a day to relax, and this last Sunday, well, it was no different.

Although it is shocking and heartbreaking, we got to spend some special moments with her the last few weeks – a friend pointed out to me that we never had to worry about making up for lost time, because we never had any. We were always close. Through this all, she didn’t shed a tear, and if she did, she never let us know it. I asked her if she was scared, and she said no. She told me she was ready to go home – and by home, I’m sure now she was talking about Heaven, and she would be sending us a rainbow here and there as a “sign”.

Words can never quite describe how holding your Ma’s hand as she is fading away, while at the same time feeling a little boy kick inside of you; we are finding comfort that Ma’s legacy will live on through baby James. She told me last week that I was going to be a great Mom and I told her that if I was half the mom she was, I’d be doing more than just okay. It was a special moment between us last week when I recorded the baby’s heartbeat at my own appointment and brought it to her to listen to. We somehow both knew she wouldn’t be there in person, but she will always be there in spirit. I told her she was the best Ma a girl could have, and she told me I was her Miracle baby, and the best kid she could have had. Ma always talked about the “Circle of Life” – and I guess she really knew what she was talking about.

She was quiet, dignified and peaceful in passing- the same way she lived her life.
Ma wouldn’t want me up here talking about her “walking the rainbow bridge” as she would call it – She would want me to talk about her life. A Short, but very full life. While I’ve always been one to know that life doesn’t end with departing from earth, I’d be willing to bet she is up there, perfecting her dance moves with Patrick Swayze as we speak.

Ma and I have joked through the years that she should just put some of “Margie’s Life’s Rules” on tape, because she liked to tell you the same things time and time again – not because she forgot she had told you something, but because, she wasn’t quite sure you had heard her the first time. Or, you kept making the same stupid mistakes after she told you the first time. So, throughout the years, she would start some of these thoughts with … “tape number…” And I thought I’d share some today.

Tape Number 20- crying makes you tired. Crying does nothing but make your face puffy and tired and then you’re all cried out and you’re thirsty. Stop crying.

Tape number 45 – my car only takes 93 gas. From the Mobil. Not that you have to fill it up or anything, but in case you do, it has to be 93 gas. From the Mobil.

Tape number 74. Quentin Road is a speed trap. When leaving the house, make sure you don’t speed, especially on Quentin Road. Cops sit there all the time. To write tickets…If, you’re speeding.

Tape number 88 – when going to the mall (at 10 am because that’s the time you need to run errands, not at 5 o’clock- are you crazy?) always park in the same section so you know where your car will be when you come out.

Tape number 126- beep beep beep. Tommy Skilling says, when a weather watch is issued, it means “watch out” and when a warning is issued, it means, “danger danger”. In both cases, put your gym shoes on (over your pantyhose,) grab your camera (in case you see any shapes that look like people in the clouds,) and then go in the bathtub or the basement. But first, turn off your computer because if you have a power surge, you want to make sure it’s okay. Don’t trust those surge protectors.

Tape number 207- don’t color your hair. I know what your natural color is, you’re not fooling anybody. (Easy for a natural blonde to say).

Tape Number 300- Don’t bother me when I’m on the phone. Unless you’re hurt or bleeding.

Tape number 320-don’t call me between 7-9pm Wednesday nights. Idol is on. –

Tape number 459 – Just stand in front of the mirror for this one picture, it’s so cool!

Tape number 466- when looking at paint colors, grab 500 paint chips and stare at them. Don’t just go and pick a paint color willy-nilly. Make sure you sample it on each wall, in the moonlight, sunlight and artificial light.

Tape number 555- Everything goes in circles. I should have saved the platform shoes from 1960s, the bellbottoms from the 70’s and the leggings from the 80’s.

Tape number 634 – Just relax. Don’t burn the candle at both ends because you’re going to get sick!

Tape number 699- Do NOT go up and down the wooden stairs with just socks on. You’re asking for trouble.

Tape number 702- don’t stick your hands into my bag of M&Ms. Dish ‘em out

Tape number 797 – No, I don’t want to travel, but be safe, have fun and bring me back a spoon.

Tape number 884 – Washing your hair in the sink prevents you from getting water in your ears.

Tape number 902 – When you find something you like, don’t just buy one of it. Buy in multiples.

Tape Number 941- eat slow and chew it good.

Tape number 983 – don’t use words like “it’s not fair,” because I don’t like the word “fair” It’s called “life.”

Years ago, my friend told me that, and I quote, “You and your Mom look nothing alike, but I swear, you are the same entity,” – at 22, I wasn’t sure I was in agreement or even liked this observation, but I find comfort in it now, because there is no better person to be like than her. But it’s funny, I have seen myself doing things over recent years that I am not sure have always been there, or if I’m just taking note now, but are just so “Ma”… and I don’t mind it a bit.

My sister would always tell Mom that she was “stupidly right”… and she was. My Dad the other night told me that I’ll carry out her legacy, and I will. So, stop your crying, because you’ll be sorry when your face is puffy, you’re tired and your makeup is outta whack.

And to you, my sweet Ma, I love you… “More.”

And today, when we visit the flower park and send our balloon flying up high to Heaven, think of us and give us a nod... it's going to be anything but normal, but it's going to be okay. And as long as we have each other we can keep her spirit, her strength, and her memory amongst us.