Angels I have heard on high~

The Holidays.....my mother loved the holidays.  It was a time to decorate, cook, sing, get stressed and prepare for dysfunctional family gatherings.  However, the holidays, no matter which way you cut it, it is a time of reflection. To reflect on the old, the new, the forgotten, the mistakes, and the angels that God places in your life.

When I look back to when my mother had her first cancer, I was oblivious to the responsibilities of parenthood. Having two children of my own, I now know that my mother, on top of her cancer, was more concerned about providing a holiday season for us than battling her inconvenience.  My mother was one that liked to go all out for the holidays.  Thanksgiving was a feast fit for an army.  Down to the homemade gravy, to the plates, napkins, all was dressed in a spectacular display of how she envisioned the rich to celebrate.  Christmas.  Wow is all I can say.  I believe this was my mothers favorite holiday.  The inside of our house would be transformed into a winter wonderland and over the years it exploded into a kids dream of wonder.  Only I was already older by the time it hit this, but I know my children would have relished in it.

I remember this was the first time that our family was sponsored by a family that could afford to provide for us as well as their own family.  These are some of the angels I was talking about.  I remember my mother was very weak from her radiation treatments.  I remember coming home from school and she was on the couch and looked upset.  I remember her telling me that she tried to go shopping with this husband and wife and she just could not do it.  She got a few things in the cart and had to leave or pass out.  So this family shopped for her.   They took time out of their lives for us.  To spend money on us.   A woman that they did not know, with cancer, with three children who they had no clue what we liked.  For them I will always be grateful and it is because of them that I believe in doing the same.  To give to those in need.

But the Angel that came to us that winter was not only this family, but a family that I would always be in debt to.  My stepfather and his family.  Although he was not my stepfather til years later, he stayed.  He began to date my mother not too long before her diagnosis.  He was a man, with no children of his own.  Dating a woman with three!!! children and a woman who was just diagnosed with stage 4 ovarian and uterine cancer.  Not only did he start to date her, but he stayed with her.  And he stayed with us!  I was not raised with grandparents due to my mother was an immigrant from England over here on a work visa.  But I never knew I  could be loved so much by strangers. They took my mother everyday to her radiation treatments for six weeks, 5 days a week.  They gave to us as if we were there own.   I remember this Christmas clearly.  For it was filled with family, not by blood, but by love.  It was filled with strangers who gave to our family.  To make sure my mother did not have to worry, to make sure we had presents, to make sure we had joy.  For God knows what He is doing when He places people in your life.  He may not give you the answers or the test results you want, or the possessions you want.  But He gives to you in unspoken ways that will always permeate through you.  For He gives you angels on this earth.  I am thankful for these angels and I will never forget, and I will always give back in the spirit that was given to me!

My mothers signature

There are times in your life when it feels like you are in a movie and telling yourself "nah...what ever, just move out of the way before the train smacks you" because you have seen it before and know what is about to happen.   But you just stand there. Waiting to prove the ending wrong.  Looking down the tracks, you see the light.  A pin size, then a pencil size, a plate size light and before you know it, it is right in front of you.  Just wishing you would have moved. Hoping you are on the right side of the tracks, only to catch the breeze and feel the energy radiating from off the ground.  To tell yourself...see I knew I would not be hit.  But dammit, if only that was true.

I remember the day I returned back to school after my mother had her first surgery.  I was in 9th grade at Buckeye High School.  I was out for a week.  Out due to my mother had no one else to help take care of her.  I remember.  I was called into the principles office.  I remember sitting in the hallway.  Nervous.  I was a quiet person.  Never demanded attention, nor did I really want it.  To fly under the radar to not get caught up in others drama.  But I sat there.  Finally, I was called in.  Okay...........breathe.

I remember the diatribe of the policy of attendance. How important it is to be in school.  How important an education is...blah blah blah.  I remember thinking I would have rather been in school than at the hospital, at home, changing bandages, helping my mother throw up.  I would have loved to have been in a classroom, sitting in boring lectures.  Getting caught up in drama in the hallway.  But no, I was not.

I remember the principal asking why my mother did not come to this meeting.  I simply looked at him and said "Sir.  To no disrespect to you, but I have had other things to worry about than having my mother call and explain why I was not in school.  My mother has cancer.  My mother is a single mother, with 3 children.  We do not have the luxury of having help.  We are on welfare. We do not have friendly neighbors to come help us.We live in government housing where people would rather be doing crack.  So, if it is alright with you, I will gladly write you an essay of what I have learned and been educated on that is not taught in school.  But I promise you I studied hard.  I will have my mother write a letter of excuse and attach her hospital discharge papers if you need.  But I will be in school when the doors are open, because I would rather be no where else, if only to get a break.

I still have the essay I wrote. With my mothers signature. What I would do to have her here to sign this.

Normal???? I despise that word~

You know the sound that a record player needle makes when it scratches across the record, trying to grasp the melody that it lost, but just can not seem to catch it.  Well that is the sound that I heard when we were in the doctors office as he told my mother she had stage 3 cervical and ovarian cancer.  She had let it go and go due to being a single mom, working, taking care of 3 kids on the brink of the emotional, self centered teen years, trying to rebuild after our house burnt down the year before and trying to have a normal life herself.....what ever that may be for a single mom with no time for herself.

But that noise.  You want so badly for it to catch the song, the melody and if it worked out right, it would catch it at the beginning of your favorite line to sing along with.  But it did not. 

"Ms. Mackie, you have cancer".  I remember my mother sitting there very stoic.  Emotionless.  Stunned and trying to remain composed.  Statue like.  I knew what cancer was at that time, seeing many other family members have had it.  But I still did not comprehend the path it takes.  Maybe like the flu.  You would feel bad for a bit, but then after awhile, you would begin to return back to normal.  Normal?????? I despise that word~

There is nothing normal with a person after they have been diagnosed with cancer.  I can only speak vicariously through what my mother went through, but nothing in my life was ever normal.  Especially after that day.  I remember the doctor going through treatment options.  First there would be an operation.  Second that, if they did not get it all, radiation.  Radiation is a whole different ball game to say the least.  That would entail another operation to place a "seed" in the area close to were the cancer is.  Then six weeks of going to the hospital monday through friday to be exposed to a solid stream of radiation to try to kill the cancer.  If that did not work, then chemotherapy.  Not to mention.....my mother was a single mom with three children embarking on teenage waste land.

You see normal is lost to a cancer patient.  Their day comes to a screetching halt like the noise a needle makes trying to grasp a melody.  The melody that day ended.  The band broke up. The instruments began to collect dust.  The record player could not be fixed.  What awaited us was a life that was everything but normal.