{this post originally appeared on larrysorelegs.blogspot.com}
Part I— Why I’m riding to raise money for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society
Mom and Dan on the camp porch
Even though the dimensions of my heartfelt pain have lessened over the years, the impact of the loss of my mother remains infinite. That pain will forever remain deep whenever thoughts wander her way.
Mom, Dad, and Cathy
Looking back these 35 plus years later (gasp for both time that has passed and my age now), the event seemed inconsequential. It shouldn’t have registered in such a prominent place in my memory. Yet it does.
Fifty-three years of age is young.
Mom (circa 1952)
There are so many memories of spending summers at camp. I remember watching many sunsets from our favorite spot of all, the porch swing. Often times, it was after my back had sunburned (don’t judge it was a time when baby oil was considered suntan lotion). She would patiently peel off the blistering skin, a tender moment in my childhood which seems like a lifetime ago. I remember being shewed out the door to play in the yard as she watched her Soaps. To this day whenever I hear the theme from the ‘Young & Restless’, I’m brought back to the sand-pile just outside and the matchbox cars I played with there. I cherish the memories of Sunday mornings spent at the tiny church near camp, and not just because we got to go for ice cream after every mass. I remember the pennies from heaven, which would liter the floor for my sister, my cousins, and my friends to find after the adults played a night of poker. I remember hating thunderstorms as they raced across the lake towards us; but loving, after the storm had passed, that she then encouraged us to go outside, to run and slide in the puddles, and then to jump in the lake to clean off.
I remember being in bed and rocking back and forth muttering under my breath that I hate you, I hate you, I hate you; whenever she “sinned” by putting me down for a nap. I remember the hideous plaid pants she made me wear to Merrill Hill School in the first and second grade; yet I really love plaid today. I remember her (& my father) torturing me by bringing me to the Auburn Fire Department's Minot Avenue Station when I was little because they thought it would help me overcome my incredible fear of fire trucks, especially the sirens. It didn't. I remember her slipping down the back stairs to the backyard, in order to fulfill my request to have my wagon there. I remember waking on Sunday mornings, my sister and I running into our parent’s room; we would wrestle and tickle them awake.
Zoanne, Mom, and Carol
I remember mom covering for me when I used an SOS pad to clean the family car. I just wanted to get it cleaner and didn’t realize it would also scratch the paint. I also remember her covering for me when I would swipe quarters to go play Asteroid at the Big S with John T. I remember what she told me when I asked, ‘where do babies come from?’ I remember the sunny afternoon she said that she was pregnant with what would be my baby brother, the one I had prayed for such a long time. It was many years ago, but I remember……….
Me, Mom, Dan, and Cathy
Fifty-three years of age is young. I remember…
I remember the time she announced that she had cancer.
I remember the chemotherapy treatments.
I remember the loss of her hair, the nausea and this sickness she endured.
I remember being at home the last few days of her life.
I remember her wasting away and watching the mother I love become so frail.
I remember joking with her about that time she came home to let us know she was joining Weight Watchers, and my refusal to allow her to change. Damn you weight watchers.
Mom holding Aimee
I remember her wish of wanting to survive till my brother graduated high school; she never did.
I remember her request that I look out for him and my dad after she was gone.
I remember the exact time she was last conscious enough to communicate.
Tante Nancy had just arrived for a visit. Before leaving to go check on my sister’s cat and leaving her and Nancy alone to visit, I bent down to kiss her and give her a big hug. I remember the tears in her eyes. It was a Wednesday evening; she passed early Saturday.
Fifty-three years of age is way too young to die. I remember….
That was my mother’s age when she finally succumbed to the effects of chemotherapy for the treatment of Multiple Myeloma.
Mom, Dad, and Elvis
She departed this world, this realm, in May of 1994, just a few weeks before I graduated from college. My younger brother was a sophomore in high school while my older sister had yet to be blessed with her awesome daughter, what would have been my mother’s first grandchild, who carries her name Samantha Claire. My father was not yet retired and still working at Bath Iron Works. The porch at camp still had screens, not the fancy windows of today, nor the concrete foundation. She did however get to meet Trevor. I did get the opportunity to ‘come out’ to her, although one of her first questions at the time was, did Trevor turn you gay,’ and my response was, no mom he didn’t. She never had the pleasure of meeting my Sister-in-law, and will never get to meet my brother’s baby L’Italien, who will soon join us. I can go on and on and on. There is so much she has missed; and there is so much we have missed.
I ride for her.
I ride for those who are suffering and will suffer from cancer.
I ride for a cure.
I ride for all those who will someday face the need to remember.
I ride for you.
I ride for me.
I ride for you.
I ride for me.
I ride…I ask for your support
{http://pages.teamintraining.org/sf/touralps11/llitalien}
{http://pages.teamintraining.org/sf/touralps11/llitalien}
