I only have glass. No warm body to hug. No sweet New York accent to discuss things with. No help with questions about how to deal with the boys and their issues and problems, no calling her to help her make me feel better when I am sick, when I land safely at a destination or when I am worried or just need to vent.

I only have a glass frame to kiss.

I can’t change anything about this. My mother is gone. She is passed away and there is nothing I can do to change that. I am working hard to forgive myself for not coming home to be there when she passed. I missed it by about fifteen minutes. I know that she didn’t want us to come home from our vacation to California, she didn’t want the boys to see her the way that she looked. Even her oncologist told me not to come home a day early, but that he would meet me at the hospital that day after I got home and we would figure out the plan for putting her back into remission – since obviously even the “easiest” chemo was clearly too much for her. But, the chemo was working. Her numbers were down.

Unfortunately, since it was an infection that ultimately took her life (peacefully, thank God), there was nothing the oncology department could do. Their treatment was working. It was up to the infectious disease doctors to work on her issues. Again, unfortunately, they just couldn’t get her vitals back to normal and her infection under control. There was a tear somewhere from being so sick that week from the chemo (who knows – it might have been the stomach, the intestines, etc.). In any case, since she was so uncomfortable, they decided to sedate her to do the scan to find out where the tear was. Before she went under, she was giving my sister, Chrissy, instructions on what to do on her desk at work. Luckily for her, she never woke up from that surgery.

You see, mommy wasn’t afraid to die. She believed that she would be would God, and Jesus, and her parents and all of the others that she had lost. What she was worried about was dying from a long, drawn out cancer death. One of the last words she heard was from her oncologist telling her that her tumor marker numbers were going down (that’s a good thing). She gave him a thumbs up from her hospital bed. She went under happy that the chemo was working and she never woke up. She was blessed by God (perhaps because she was such a wonderful person who helped so many with her story of survival – remember, Mommy had cancer three times). I am so, so happy for my mom that she passed the way she did.

But, again, I have a lot of guilt. I was with her for every single doctor visit, every scan, all of her blood work. I was even her health care proxy so that I was the one that the doctor called with all of her results so that I could tell her in a way that would keep her calm and positive. And, I wasn’t there when she died. I have nightmares about my mother where she is mad at me; it could be for something as small as spilling a drink (which was SO unlike my mother) to really bad ones where she was begging me to help her and I was unable to even lift her.

I also have guilt that I put her through MY cancer. Now, obviously, that is irrational. Still, I hate that I made her worry and have stress that may have made her cancer worse – it’s a fact that real stress can lower your immune system and have whatever disease it is come creeping back. I’m working on that, too but, it’s a work in progress.

Then again, I’m Italian. I guess guilt comes with the territory.

But, I had a wonderful conversation with my friend Inez yesterday. This wonderful woman took a big chunk of her day to come up to my office to talk to me about what she had been through and how it related to certain things that she had experienced in her life. She came under the guise of talking about work. LOL. I got teary a few times but, it was something I needed. I appreciate all of the support I get on social media and from my friends and family but, only those who have been through similar situations can really understand what such profound loss feels like. Inez gets it.

One of the things I got out of our talk yesterday is that I need to try, as hard as I can, to start compartmentalizing that grief. I have responsibilities; to my husband, to my sons, to my company, to my friends. It’s a lot of responsibility but, I’m glad to have them because it also goes to show that I have so much in my life that is so important to me. So many people who love me, who depend on me and who want me to ask them for help when I need it. Inez didn’t need to be told, she could just tell; from my facebook posts, from my blogs posts, etc.

You see, I not only lost my mother, I lost my biggest cheerleader, my best friend, my confidante, my mentor and my love. It is a loss too large to be able to put into words that work sufficiently to describe it. But, I have to take my mom’s own advice and get up every morning and instead of focusing on what I lost, I need to look around and “count my blessings”.

I hope that this post helps all of my friends, and the people I don’t even know, to realize that you are not alone. I still pick up the phone to call her and realize that she’s not there. I will stare at a picture of her and take in every millimeter of her face, lest I forget exactly what she looked like. I even thought that moving into our new building would help, because I never worked there with her but, ironically, I have a harder time there because she never worked there. It’s just another part of my life that has changed dramatically.

I have good days, and I have bad days. The worst, as I pointed out in my last blog, are when I am not feeling well. I feel like a five year old but, if I could say it out loud it would be “I want my mommy!” as I stamp my feet on the floor.

I am so very grateful and happy for my friends who still have their moms. I look at pictures of their birthday cakes; some are turning 70, some 75, some 80 and some even 86 or 87. I want to give you some advice. I know that you love your moms, and that you are grateful for them but, a minute can change everything. My mom taught me that. To not be jealous of what your friends and family have, but to rejoice in their happiness and accomplishments.

To all of you out there that are blessed enough to still celebrate birthdays with your parents – kiss them, hug them, call them every day. I did. If you haven’t so far, that’s okay (and probably normal). Most people go through life not worrying about losing a parent. But, it’s not too late to start. I am eternally grateful that I did those things, however, and the reason I did was because my mom had been battling cancer my entire life so, I didn’t take one second with her for granted. That was a gift from God.

I am strong. I have more love in my life than I ever thought possible. I have been blessed with so many things, along with the bad times, since the time I was very young. I seem to get along with people well and, so, have lots of friends, I have my beautiful boys and never had to go through any fertility problems, I have my supportive and understanding husband, who is by my side every step of the way. I think I am a generous and giving person, both materially and emotionally, and it just comes naturally to me to want to help others. I know in my heart that my mother is proud of me. This is so important and one of the reasons that I will be okay.

But, the most important thing I took from my talk with Inez yesterday is that my mother is all around me, she sees what I am doing and she is supporting me from wherever it is she is now.

So, yes, it’s true. Now all I have is glass. I kiss one of her pictures every day and all I get in return in the cold, smooth feel of the glass. I can’t smell her, I can’t feel her, I can’t do anything but, kiss that glass. The difference is, now I do it with my eyes closed. I can smell her perfume, I can hear her laugh, I can feel her there, kissing me back. She is with me, always. I just have to remember that.

Thank you, Inez, for being there for me. And thank you, my faithful readers, for giving me an outlet for all of my feelings; whether they be heartache or joy. You have all touched my life in ways you can’t imagine, and I love you for it.

Peace and Love to you always.

~Nicole