1 year 5 months.

It's been awhile. That is in part to never having time to sit at the computer, and not having anything new to say. But, I thought I would give a little update anyway. So, here is where I am at:

I still miss them. Everyday, all day. There is the hole in my heart, in my life where they should be. I find that as tine goes on I am use to them being gone in some ways, I no longer check my phone constantly to make sure my mom didn't call, I stopped picking up the phone to call them. I don't look to see if it is them in every silver Ford Focus I see. But in other ways the pain is getting worse, the hole is getting bigger. As my daughters get older, as they learn new things, my heart breaks, I want to share it with my mom and dad. I want Izabella to sing to them. I want my dad to swing with Carlee and my mom to sing in her ear. I want them to be a part of their lives, here on earth, with me. I know that is selfish, but it is what it is. I will never stop wanting them here with me. I may be 26 years old, a wife and a mother, but I am still just a girl who wants her Mommy and Daddy. Every part of me screams for them to be here with me.

One thing that has changed, or improved, I am not mad anymore. I've never talked about that here, because it "taboo" or just not something people like to admit to, but I was FURIOUS with God for a very long time. I tried really hard not to be, I tried to accept that it was HIS plan HIS will. I tried to accept that it was not for me to know why things happened the way they did. But I couldn't. I was mad. I was angry. I screamed. Then one day I woke up and didn't feel as mad as the day before, until I got here. I am not mad, I am not angry. I accept that it is HIS plan. It taught me to let go, to not dwell on the things that I cannot change. And it taught me to live. We are only given one life. And none of us know just how long that life will be. So, live it. Now, there is no pause button, no later. There is only now. It's taught me to not take anyone for granted. I am so blessed with amazing people in my life, people who have literally saved me and I hope I show them just how much I appreciate them.

And lastly, I can finally talk about them without breaking down. So, I talk about them a lot with the girls. I show pictures and try my best to explain to my 2 year old who they are and how much they loved her. And when we talk about Maw Maw Julia and Paw Paw Carl she smiles and says "my angels."

She is only 2 and her Sissy is only 7 months, but they have been my saving grace for the last year and 5 months. In the days and weeks following my mom's death, I got out of bed everyday to take care of Izabella, I took care of myself to take care of Carlee. They saved me.

The Miranda Lambert song, "Over You" sums up how I feel pretty perfectly, I will never get over them.

Before they left.

Sometimes I am reminded of how loved I am. How cared for I am. How much my parents loved me and how much they cared for me. I am reminded of this by the people they filled my life with. My parents worked very hard to not only be good role models but to fill my and my brothers' lives with good role models. People who love and care for us, people who want to still share in our lives. 

When I am at my loneliest and most vulnerable it's almost like I can hear them whisper to me, "we're still here." Now before you think I am crazy, let me give you a few examples...

The first day I was suppose to be alone with both my girls, my best friend's mom, we call her Neicy, came to stay with us. Knowing how completely overwhelmed I was, knowing that I was suffering from "baby blues," she sent me to relax with the girls while she straightened up my house. This was not the first nor the last time she did this. Let's just say that woman is truly an angel on earth. They could not be here with me, but made sure one of their angels was.

On the anniversary of my mom's death we received a message from one of my mom's friends from school telling us that she was thinking of us. That she looks at a picture of my mom that is in the lounge daily, that she loves and misses her, that she will always be their tiger. My mom could not check on me that day, but she made sure one of her oldest and dearest friends did.

And at the end of my daughters second birthday, around the time I was realizing that this was the second time I celebrated my baby's birthday without my parents, I received this from my mom's best friend, and her daughter, the friend I have had since I was 4:

It is a Christmas bear. I have gotten one every single Christmas since I was born. This Christmas was the first year I did not have one waiting for me, or so I thought. My mom's best friend, a woman whom I have called "Momma Mardel" since before I could even remember, said that for a week it was like my mom was trying to tell her something, when she saw my post on facebook about not getting one, she knew that is what it was. She knew my mom wanted her to get her baby girl a Christmas teddy since she no longer could. She will never quite understand just how much that meant to me. 


It's those little things and sometimes big things, that remind me that even though being without them sometimes makes me feel lonely, I am never truly alone. It's my best friend/sister, Megi, who knows that sometimes I just need someone to sit with and talk about anything and everything that does not involve my broken heart. It's Niecy dropping everything to babysit Carlee while I take Bella to Urgent Care, it's my Godfather calling at least once a month to just "chit chat" even though I know he is checking on me. It's my Aunt Ellen making cupcakes for Bella's birthday party, even though I never asked. It's my best friend Natalie bringing me gumbo, already strained, because she knows I have no idea how to cook gumbo, that my mom always did that for me. 


It's those little things, those big things. It's those emails, phone calls and gumbo. Its that teddy bear, that reminds me that even though I can no longer hear them say "I love you," I can feel it. I feel their love around me every single day. And just when I start to feel my heart breaking again, they send me a sign, telling me they are still here. 


They made sure that my life would still be filled with love, by filling it with incredible people before they left.

one year later, it still hurts.

It's been 1 year since my brothers and I made the hardest decision we ever had to and I pray we ever will have to when we told our Mother's doctors that we didnt want her to suffer any longer. It's been 12 months since I whispered in her ear that I wish she would stay but that it was okay if she wanted to be with Daddy. It's been 365 days since I watched my mom take her last breath. And I quite honestly don't feel any better than I did that day. My heart still hurts, I still find myself begging God to send her back. Some days it feels like my chest is so heavy it will cave in. I cry, I scream, I beg, I get angry, I get sad, and I try so hard to find some sort of peace. But I am not there yet, at a place where I have found peace in my parents' deaths. I don't even think I am close to there. 


I have learned though, losing them has taught me so much. I've learned to say what I need to say when I need to say it. I say "I love you" 100 times more, because you can never hear it enough. I appreciate everything I have in my life and have learned to let go of the things I dont have or can't have. I have learned that taking a few hours a week to do things I love to do, read, get my hair done or my nails, watch a movie, is not selfish but it is good for the soul. 

I havent figured anything out about the grieving process, except for that there is no wrong way to do it. The truth is, I am not really in the writing mood today, I have nothing original to say, I really just want to get back to cleaning my bathrooms, because cleaning makes me feeling better. 

So here is what I said the day we laid my mom to rest:


Good Morning... My brothers and I are once again overwhelmed by the love and support we have been shown not only over the last 3 weeks but for the last 3 months. So many people, some we know and a lot we don't, have reached out to us and shared stories and their memories of our Mother with us. We never realized how many lives she has touched until now.

Julia Anne Ockman was born on March 26, 1955 the oldest of 4 children born to Wilson "WaWa" and Margaret Ockman. On August 17, 1974 she married Carl Trosclair Jr, that same year she started her journey as a teacher. She was a mother to 3 sons, Shane, Steven and Carl III, and one daughter, Emilee. A Grandmother to 8 little angels, Camden, Seth, Brody, Caitlyn, Cole, Drew, Izabella and Amanda.

My mother was the one known for standing behind a podium in our family. She was a teacher to her core. She never believed their was a child that could not be taught, a child that she could not teach. We estimate that over her 37 year teaching career that she taught nearly 4000 students, including summer school and tutoring. I can only hope to touch a fraction of the number of lives my mom has. She was an inspiration not only to the students she taught but also to the teachers she taught with. many of whom have shared with us over the last few weeks just how much she meant to them, she was their shoulder to lean on, their mentor.
Over the last few years when walking more than a few feet became impossible, she still got out of bed in the morning, went to the school that had become a second home to her and taught students she had grown to love. if you are wondering where my brothers and I have gotten strength over the last few weeks, it's from her, because she raised us and she was the strongest woman I have ever known.

She wasn't only an incredible teacher, she was a daughter, sister, aunt, nanny, friend, and she was amazing at all of them.
To her 4 children the most important roles she held in life were those of, wife, mother and grandmother...
my mom and dad's love story was an epic one. I never knew what heartbreak looked like until I saw my mom lose my dad. I can only pray that after 36 years my husband and I love and adore each other the way in which my parents loved and adored one another.
Our mother was our cheerleader and biggest fan in life. She always encouraged us to dream big, set goals for ourselves and go after them. She sacrificed her nails and hair color for us. You could either find her pacing nervously at a baseball game or at a pageant. She loved them both because it's what made us happy. She supported us without pushing us, so when I decided I no longer wanted to dance and Steven only made it through one peewee football practice she made sure we knew that was ok, she was still proud of us.
She taught us that family would always be the most important and precious gift we have in life. A lesson I am grateful to have learned because I realize that it is with each other our family will begin to heal during the hardest time in our life.
She instilled in us so many of her traits and values that we will pass along to our children, her favorite people in the world, her 8 grand babies.
My mom loved being a maw maw. She was so proud to tell everyone about each one of them, and even more proud to pull out her brag books. My heart hurts knowing the baby I am carrying, will never get to meet her, but it's comforting to know that  our children have 2 amazing angels who will have the best seats watching them grow up.
I can only hope to be half the mother to my children that my mom was to me. That when my daughter has a broken heart, I find the words to help her heal. When she is happy I can share in her joy. When she is sad she comes to me for comfort. that I make sure my children always know that I am proud to be their Mother. And that when they need advice because they are unsure of how to be a parent, they come to me and I find a way to reassure them, the way my mom has done for me over the last year.

I'd like to imagine that if my mom were able to speak to all of us today she would tell us not to be sad for her, because she is in a better place. A place where she is in no pain and can walk, run, or dance with her husband, a place where there is a marching band for her to lead, an endless library of books to read, a baseball game for her to watch, a never-ending mardi GRAS parade with beads to catch and a classroom of students who need to be taught.... I'd imagine she'd simply say to us, "class dismissed."

Homework.

January 2nd is quickly approaching. January 2nd is not the last day I spoke to my mother, that day was January 24th, the day I said goodbye, the 2nd was the last day she was able to speak back. On January 3rd she slipped into a coma. On January 3rd I realized just how much more I needed to say, just how much more I needed her to tell me. You don't realize how many questions you have for a person until they are no longer able to answer them.

So here is my little assignment for you. That question you've been meaning to ask but never got around to, ASK. That dish you want to learn to cook, that top secret ingredient, LEARN IT, GET IT. The advice you need but have been to embarrassed to talk about or too proud, ASK. LEARN. REMEMBER.

Don't put it off til tomorrow. We just aren't promised a tomorrow. Pick up the phone, get in your car and go visit. Just do it today.

Here are a few of the things I want to know but never will:

I wish I knew their whole love story. I know some things, how they met, a few of their funny date stories, but I don't know enough. I don't know how they got engaged. I don't know when they knew they were in love. I know some little things and some big things, but now I wish I knew everything.

I want to know things about me (I don't have a baby book) things like, did I take a noonie? When did I take my first steps, was I a happy baby? What age was I potty trained? How the heck do you potty train your child??

My mom use to make this chili that was supposedly really good, I would not know, I do not eat chili. But no one knows her recipe, it was her secret. And even though I don't eat it, I wish I had it, so when I cooked it for my family it would be from her.

My dad made me awesome biscuits, pretty much every day. Pioneer biscuit mix, sugar, and milk. I know the ingredients, but no matter how many times I make them they never taste as good as his. I wish I could stand on the side of him and watch, instead of sit in the living room and wait.

I wish I knew my mom's favorite book, my dad's favorite brand of bacon. I wish I knew them better. I'll never get to know more from them than I do now because I never asked.

So, do it today, ask your questions, learn, remember. Today! You may not get a tomorrow.

Selfish.

How selfish of me to want you here. To want you to live in pain physically and emotionally so that I would not have to had suffer the loss of you. So that I would not have to know the pain of your death.

I find myself thinking "I want my mom" more than thinking "I want my dad." It is not because I loved my mom more, or miss her mom. I loved my parents equally, I miss them just the same. But, I have had more time to cope with my dad's death than with my mom, and not just the 2 months 3 weeks in between.

I had feared my dad's death for a very very long time. When I was 10 he had his 1st heart attack, 16 for his 2nd, his 3rd was 3 weeks before his 4th, the one that took him from us. No one expected him to live til 80, but we certainly hoped it would be a lot longer than 59. I use to watch him breathe. He would fall asleep on the couch and I would literally stand over him and watch him breathe in and out. If he was taking a nap in his room, and I was about to leave, I would wake him up just to tell him "bye," I am certain he loved that. But I was always so scared. Except after his 3rd. After that one, I thought, "ok, he's patched up" we will have more time. I never imagined that "more time" would only be 3 weeks. But living in fear of my dad's death left me with less time to even contemplate my mom's. Of course, she wasn't the healthiest either. But diabetes is not a disease that takes your life quickly, and I thought I had years to prepare. But I didn't, and now she is gone.

I guess what I am saying is that while I miss them both the same, it's been easier for me to accept and process my dad's death. While I still find myself having a hard time convincing myself that my mom is really not here.

When I think about how hard it is for me without him, how much I still ache for him, I cannot imagine how she would feel. If she were here today, one year without the love of her life I cannot imagine what her life would be like. How selfish of me to wish that kind of pain on her.

November.

Another November has come and gone, and to be quite honest, it could not have left fast enough. For a little breakdown of how the month went, not only did I have to deal with the anniversary of my father's death, but my fur baby, Lucky, our black lab got really sick and we had to put him down. My husband was offshore for that. Thanksgiving came next, our first without Mom. Then it ended with both my babies sick, he was offshore for that too. But, I put my cape on, sucked it up and dealt with it all, thankful that I only had to deal with coughs and ear aches, I know some moms out there have it far worse than I do.

A little about Lucky, we got Lucky in May of 2008, 4 months after we got married, my husband thought that it was time that I lived at our house when he was offshore instead of going to my parents because I was too afraid to be by myself. Lucky, was a good dog, and a VERY spoiled dog. Which made losing him even harder. We felt like we did everything right, only to lose him before he was even 4 years old. Lucky was not only our dog, he was our baby, and for 2 years he was our only baby. There was a period of time when we weren't getting pregnant that I was convinced he would be our only baby for a long time. Now that he is gone it is like a piece of our family is  missing. My heart is broken for him, and I miss him so much. I know though, that "all dogs go to heaven" and I know without a doubt that my dad had a tennis ball waiting for him when he got there. 

People tell me that anniversaries, birthdays and holidays are the hardest. But, to be quite honest I haven't found them to be any different from a regular day. Maybe that is because I haven't gotten "there" yet, to the place where it feels easier. See, in my world everyday is hard, every day hurts. I can't say that I don't feel sad every day, I do. I feel happy every day too, but that has everything to do with my girls, my husband and the people I surround myself with. It has nothing to do with it being easier. Some days are still harder than others, but every day is hard. Every day there is something that reminds me of them not being here. I want so badly for them to be here, sharing my life with me. I want to see the look in there eyes when Carlee smiles at them, when Izabella says "Maw Maw" or "Paw Paw." I want them.

The anniversary of my daddy's death felt just like it did the day before and the day after. It hurt. It was hard to believe that it had been a year. My heart has kept beating for one whole year since his stopped. I dont understand how one year can go by so quickly. 

Then there was Thanksgiving. I had to convince one brother to go to my Grandma's, and I really do understand why it was hard for him to go, there was this huge hole where they should have been. But he went and I was so proud of him. So, for the first time since my mom's funeral, all 4 of us were in the same place. It was nice, and hard at the same time. I could see in my mind the chair my mom would have been in holding Carlee, trying to convince Bella & Amanda to sit on her, my dad playing with the older kids outside. Then I would blink and just like that they were gone. And I know without a doubt that no matter how hard it was for the 4 of us, there were two people who had an even harder day. My grandmothers. 

My mom's mom: There are moments when we are all together and I will look at her and just know that she is thinking of the daughter that she had to say goodbye to. And I pray that I never have to know that pain. She is a lot like my mom though, she keeps it bottled up. Always wanting to make sure everyone else is ok. I think I get that from them. I try to be strong for everyone around me, when in reality it feels like I have to wrap my arms around myself to keep from falling apart.

My dad's mom: She cries 90% of the time she sees me, which makes me cry in return. It's hard to know what she is thinking. She is a woman who has been through a lot in her life. Which made her strong. She is my weakness. She is the person who makes me breakdown, makes everything I feel come to the surface. 

So, it's been a year 1 month and 6 days since he left me, and my heart is still so crushed. Which only makes me wonder how hard it would be for her if she were still here...


P.S. I fully intend on staying in bed all of November 2012.

Guilt.

“Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death.” CoCo Chanel

Sadness, anger, guilt. I feel these 3 things on a daily basis. Some days I feel more sad than angry, some days more angry than sad. All days I feel the same level of guilt.

I feel guilty because sometimes I laugh and smile and feel completely happy. Sometimes I think, "wow, my life is perfect." Then I immediately feel guilty because how can I feel those things when they aren't here. How can I be happy without them?

After my dad passed away, I would have given anything to see my mom smile, to hear her laugh, for her to be happy again. And now, here I am without the both of them and I feel guilty for smiling, for laughing, for being happy.

I feel guilty because I can't remember the last time I said "I love you" to my dad. I always said it when I left him, but I don't remember it.

I feel guilty because I couldn't save them. Trust me, I know that I am not a doctor, not even close. What I mean by that is that my parents have never been the most healthy people. My dad had his first of 4 heart attacks when he was only 45. My mom was an insulin dependent diabetic. I feel guilty because I should have tried harder to get them to take better care of themselves. I was the only daughter, I lived with them the longest of their children. I should have tried harder. I should have been able to make a difference.

Most of my guilt lies with my mother. I have never said this out loud, I have never written it down, but I have thought it nearly every day since January 24, 2011. I feel guilty because I feel as though gave up on her. I mind knows that the decision we made that day was the right one for her, the logical one. My heart screams at me, screams that maybe with more time, she would have woken up. Science sides with my mind. Now, I have always been a girl who believes "Que Sera Sera," "whatever will be, will be" and in my heart that day I hoped and prayed that she would just wake up. I begged her to. I begged her not to make me say goodbye. I prayed that the doctors were wrong. I feel like I gave up on her, and for that I feel guilty.

Since that day I have worried that her family, her sisters and brother, her mom, her friends, blame us. I have been afraid that they think we made the wrong choice. I pray that they don't. But that fear is there.

The nightmares don't help. I did my mom's hair and makeup for the funeral. I didn't really want to, but I felt like I had to, for me, and for her. It wasn't the first time I had done this, I also did my great grandmother's hair for her funeral and I cut my daddy's hair for his. But doing my mom's was the hardest one. I wanted to get it right, make it perfect. I have never had nightmares about my maw or dad, but I do about my mom. It's usually the same, her waking up and yelling at me because her lipstick is the wrong color, those times I usually wake up smiling, because my mom rarely wore makeup, but loved her lipstick. Other times I wake up in tears, because she opens her eyes and asks me "why?"

Now, the logical me, the part of me who can reason, knows that we did the right thing, knows that my mom was no longer there. And all of me knows without a doubt that my mom is where she wants to be. I know that she would not have wanted to be in a coma, kept alive by machines when she could be with her love in a more beautiful place than we see on earth.

But the guilt is still there. And the thing about guilt is that it eats away at you, breaks you down. I do not know how to get passed it. People say that the sadness, the hurt gets easier. But will the guilt? Will it go away?