This past Friday, my Lily graduated with her Masters in Social Work! Thanks to the Coronavirus, we had to cancel our family trip to be there with her which the most disappointing, heartbreaking part of this experience thus far. We all so wanted to watch her walk across the stage, receive that hard-earned diploma, cheer and weep with  pride. Take her to lunch after, raise a glass of sparkling cider in her honor. Instead, we had to do that through a virtual commencement and a Zoom meeting. 

It certainly wasn't the same, and not nearly good enough for her, for us, but we made the best of it and look forward to a real celebration once we're together again. (soon, goddess willing). 

Today is Mother's Day, and I'm filled with mixed emotions. Excited to drive to be with Kali &  Bambi & babies, but am missing Lily so much, nothing feels complete without her. I'm also missing my own mom, and am thinking how proud she would be of Lily, and how happy she was on her own graduation day. It was "only" an Associates Degree, but she was the first in her family to have any type of formal education, and she was very proud of that fact, as well she should be. I vaguely remember her own graduation day, but can't recall the date. I'm guessing 1986 or early 1987..

Congratulations, Mom. Your namesake accomplished something amazing! I wish you were here to see her. 

Rapunzel~

Planning My Thanksgiving Hearth: Day Six

Today I'm going to share with you a rather unconventional Thanksgiving recipe, but one that's been on my holiday table almost every year of my life. I'm not sure if this is a midwestern thing, or just something my Mom did, but she was really big on cold fruity salads for holidays.  We always had a Waldorf Salad and her beloved "Sour Cream Salad," otherwise known as Ambrosia.  It provides a nice sweet, but not too sweet, element to the otherwise heavy protein and carb-laden menu items.  When Lily was small she would fill half her plate with this, leaving little room for anything else! This is why, in Mom's absence, it will be she who prepares this for us.

Grandma & Lily - 1991

Grandma's Sour Cream Fruit Salad

(Thanksgiving Dinner)

1 8-ounce container sour cream

2 cans mandarin oranges

1 small can crushed pineapple

1 can pears

1 package coconut

1 package small marshmallows

Drain oranges, pineapple and pears; cut pears into small pieces.  Mix sour cream, oranges, pineapple and pears.  Add coconut and marshmallows (as many as you want, just make sure it blends nicely). 

Enjoy!

Rapunzel~

Countdown to the 4th

Today's recipe is not quite as low-calorie as the previous I've posted but I can't imagine a cook-out without my mother's potato salad! Since I haven't been able to dig up her exact recipe, I did a Google search in hopes of finding something similar. This one from Betty Crocker looks just about right.





Favorite Potato Salad

A must for picnics! This classic potato salad takes only 10 minutes of hands-on prep time.

Prep Time
10 Minutes

Total Time 4:50 Hrs:Mins

Makes 10 servings

6 medium boiling potatoes (2 pounds)
1 1/2 cups mayonnaise or salad dressing
1 tablespoon white or cider vinegar
1 tablespoon yellow mustard
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
2 medium celery stalks, chopped (1 cup)
1 medium onion, chopped (1/2 cup)
4 hard cooked eggs, chopped

Scrub potatoes. Leaves skins on if desired, or peel thinly and remove eyes.
Heat 1 inch water (salted if desired) to boiling; add potatoes. Cover and heat to boiling; reduce heat. Cook 30 to 35 minutes or until potatoes are tender; drain. Cool slightly; cut into cubes (about 6 cups).
Mix mayonnaise, vinegar, mustard, salt and pepper in 4-quart glass or plastic bowl. Add potatoes, celery and onion; toss. Stir in eggs. Cover and refrigerate at least 4 hours.

Makes 10 servings (about 3/4 cup each)

To keep this and other mayonnaise-based salads cold while at a picnic, place the serving container in a bowl filled with ice.

Time Saver:
You can buy hard-cooked eggs in the deli section or next to the meat case of most grocery stores.

Nutrition Information:

Calories 340
(Calories from Fat 260 ),
Total Fat 29 g
(Saturated Fat 5 g,
Cholesterol 105 mg;
Sodium 480 mg;
Total Carbohydrate 17 g
(Dietary Fiber 2 g,
Protein 4 g;

Enjoy!

Rapunzel~

Happy Mothers Day

We miss you, Mom...Much Love,

Your Girls

30 Days of Photos, Day 7

30 Days of Photos, Day 7: A picture of most treasured item

You can barely see it in this picture, but my most treasured item is a name plate necklace that my Mom gave to me when I was 19 years old. She took pieces of her old gold to a jeweler who custom made the necklace for me. When each of my girls reached a certain age, she did the same for them. We all wore our necklaces to her funeral.

Happy Birthday, MomWe Miss You

"Sam"
September 23, 1940 - February 3, 2009

Haunted

I had a nightmare last night, one which was all too real because it had actually happened. My Mother died. In the dream she was in the hospital, recuperating from surgery. She knew she was very ill but was in good spirits, even when the doctors broke the news to her that she wasn't going to make it, that she needed to make a decision about how to proceed from here. My beautiful, strong mother chose to let go. She climbed into bed, said goodbye to all of us, chastised us not to cry, that she was done with her life and ready to move on. Then she smiled and passed away. Peacefully.

As sad as the dream was, the reality was so much worse. Yes, she was in the hospital recuperating from surgery, very weak. We thought she was going to come through ok, had been taken off the ventilator and was talking to us, joking about the fact that Beren was visiting her even though he abhors hospitals and will never step foot in one. Then something went wrong. Her heart started racing, the medical team stepped in, working to get her heart rate down and stabilized. She was panicked, begging for help. Realizing that our presence was exciting her more, we left her room, under the care of the professionals, my father at her side, promising to return once she was feeling better. The last words she said to me were, "Don't forget to come back." I never saw my mother awake again.

They put her back on a ventilator, heavily sedated, in a coma-like state. We gathered around her, still hopeful that just needed some more time to rest, that she would wake up and be strong enough to continue to fight the cancer that was ravaging her body. That illusion was shattered by the doctor who pulled us aside and told us it was time to let go. That in addition to everything else her poor body had been through, she had also suffered a heart attack. Her lungs were not able to breathe without the ventilator, that their only option was to do a tracheotomy and did we really want to put her through that? The cancer was spreading, unbeknownst to us, had now been found in her spine. We met with her oncologist who confirmed what the ER doctor had reported. We then met with a "end of life" specialist who strongly encouraged us to let her go.

At this point our whole family was there - all of my children, Beren and even my ex-husband who was there to support his daughters. We asked for time, we needed to discuss this. We trudged down to the chapel where we sat in the pews and listened to my father, tears in his eyes, tell us what he thought, and ask for our opinions. One by one we gave him the ok. Yes, we should let her go. No, it wasn't an easy decision by any means but at the time we felt it was the right thing to do.

They took her off the ventilator assured us they would keep her comfortable, that without the machine breathing for her she would not last much longer, maybe 8 to 12 hours. Beren and I ran home, gathered pillows and blankets, take-out food for all of us, and then we waited. My whole family camped on the cold hospital room floor, catching moments of sleep, taking turns holding my mother's hand, talking to her, comforting each other, believing that her fight would be over in a few hours. Yet it wasn't.

My mother lasted for 3 and a half more days. Long enough to transfer her to a Hospice room, long enough for my aunt and cousin to fly down from Ohio. Long enough for all of her close friends to visit, for us to gather all of the photo albums we owned and create a slideshow of her life so that everyone who entered the room could see her as she was, a vibrant, beautiful woman, so full of life and love. She stayed with us long enough for us to wonder...did we do the right thing? Maybe she'll come out of this, maybe we should reduce the pain meds and see if she wakes up, starts breathing on her own. After all, the medical staff was incredulous, couldn't believe she was still hanging on. "She's a very strong woman," they repeated time and time again. So, we wondered: without our intervention, would she have been strong enough to survive this? Was she alive because she wasn't ready to go? Were we preventing her from coming back?

The doubts, the uncertainties continued yet none of us had the nerve to voice them to each other. Maybe we knew in our minds that it was impossible to do anything different, that even if she came through this crisis she would never be the same. The cancer was going to take her one way or another, her days ahead would only be filled with more pain and suffering. We knew this intellectually, and yet...

To this day I am haunted by the possibility that maybe we didn't do the right thing. Tormented by the fact that my mother didn't get to make this decision for herself. Sickened by the thought that maybe she would have chosen differently, that maybe she was, is angry with me for "taking her life." I wonder sometimes if it was a selfish, not selfless, act that I did. Was it that I didn't want her to suffer any longer or was it about me? Was it that I couldn't take the pain anymore? Did I hurry along the inevitable because it was just too hard for me?

These are the thoughts that go through my mind, a year after her death. These are the things I pray about, in my own way, the conversations I have with her at the grave, asking for her understanding, begging for a sign from her that we did the right thing, that she is at peace, that she loves me and will see me again soon. That she forgives me for what I did to her. I never get that sign..or do I?

Is is possible that she is speaking to me through the dream I had last night? That she is happy, that we did the right thing and she is admonishing me to "stop with the guilt" as she used to say to me. I can only hope and believe that the haunting will eventually fade away, that someday I will come to terms with all of it and find my own peace of mind and heart.

Day of the Dead

For some time now my daughter Kali has encouraged us to celebrate Dia de Los Muertos, Day of the Dead. Being a multi-cultural family who heartedly embraces other beliefs & customs, we figured, why not? With such a devastating loss this year, it seemed the perfect time to do so.

We always make an altar for Samhain honoring those who have moved on....





This afternoon each of us will visit Mom's grave, decorating it with flowers and pumpkins, lighting a candle and visiting with her.

Then tonight we will set an extra place at the table, inviting the spirits to join us in a feast. I'll be making Pan de Muerto alongside Mom's Vegetable-Beef Stew, not really a recipe per se but if anyone wants it I'll be happy to share.



Pan de Muerto (Bread of the Dead)

Ingredients
• 1/4 cup milk
• 1/4 cup (half a stick) margarine or butter, cut into 8 pieces
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 package active dry yeast
• 1/4 cup very warm water
• 2 eggs
• 3 cups all-purpose flour, unsifted
• 1/2 teaspoon anise seed
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 2 teaspoons sugar

Instructions: Bring milk to boil and remove from heat. Stir in margarine or butter, 1/4 cup sugar and salt.

In large bowl, mix yeast with warm water until dissolved and let stand 5 minutes. Add the milk mixture.

Separate the yolk and white of one egg. Add the yolk to the yeast mixture, but save the white for later. Now add flour to the yeast and egg. Blend well until dough ball is formed.

Flour a pastry board or work surface very well and place the dough in center. Knead until smooth. Return to large bowl and cover with dish towel. Let rise in warm place for 90 minutes. Meanwhile, grease a baking sheet and preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Knead dough again on floured surface. Now divide the dough into fourths and set one fourth aside. Roll the remaining 3 pieces into "ropes."

On greased baking sheet, pinch 3 rope ends together and braid. Finish by pinching ends together on opposite side. Divide the remaining dough in half and form 2 "bones." Cross and lay them atop braided loaf.

Cover bread with dish towel and let rise for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, in a bowl, mix anise seed, cinnamon and 2 teaspoons sugar together. In another bowl, beat egg white lightly.

When 30 minutes are up, brush top of bread with egg white and sprinkle with sugar mixture, except on cross bones. Bake at 350 degrees for 35 minutes.

Makes 8 to 10 servings.

A New Day

After the funeral, when all of the guests had left Dad's house, when the dishes were done, leftovers put away, flowers arranged, kids settled in at home..I packed an overnight bag and climbed into Beren's car. I pulled a blanket around me and fell fast asleep for about an hour, waking up just before arriving at our destination. We checked into a gorgeous hotel, ate a quiet dinner, toasted Mom with her favorite drink and then climbed into bed. I was asleep by 9:30, totally worn out from the past days & weeks of impossible decisions, constant fear & worry and, eventually, overwhelming sadness.

I awoke this morning to the sound of the waves crashing on the sand, breeze whipping through the palm trees, fresh coffee and leftover Italian cookies for breakfast. My friend Jersey told me to awaken slowly today, that it was likely to be a rough morning, so I followed her advice. I kissed Beren goodbye as he headed off to his meeting, grabbed my phone and proceeded to do what I've done every single morning for as long as I can remember: Call My Mother. Of course she didn't answer, of course Dad picked up the phone and we shared a stilted brief conversation about his plans for the day, and mine. No gossip, no chit chat, no girlfriend-like giggles, no Mom. So I called my daughters. And Jersey called me. And I emailed several friends, logged onto Facebook, took a nap, puttered. Made the best of the alone time, allowed myself to cry without worrying about what others would think. Looked at her pictures. Missed Her. Talked to Her. Poured a glass of wine despite the fact that it's barely noon. Let the sadness wash over me some more.



And now, I'm going to put on my brightest pink dress, make-up and the best smile I can muster. Go downstairs, treat myself to a fabulous lunch, a walk on the beach and a fresh new magazine. In a few hours Beren will pick me up and we'll head home at which point I'll need to figure out what to do from here, how to live my life without my mother. Nothing will ever again be the same, my life is forever changed, but no matter what happens the sun keeps shining, the tides keep moving, we wake up each morning, Goddess willing, to greet a New Day. I intend to make the most of it, each and every one. After all, it's what she would have wanted.

Rest in Peace, My Beautiful Mother

Phyllis "Sam"
September 23, 1940 - February 4, 2009