Happy Birthday Mom

Hi All,
Today is my mom's birthday. She would have been 61 years old but she was snatched from us by the same disease I am battling today when she was only 53. My mom was a big worrier. And she was worried about me most, at least it felt that way. Probably because I was diagnosed with Lupus when I was 18 years old and ever since, whenever we spoke, it almost always seemed to be about whether I was taking my medication, my vitamins, whether I was exercising and getting enough sleep, eating enough vegetables, remembering to go to my appointments, staying out of the sun and on and on. Just wanting to be a normal young adult, I have to admit, I tended to avoid her phone calls. I regret that now, but how was I to know? Because of my mom's worrying, I am almost relieved she isn't here to see me go through this. I don't like when people worry about me. But also because she would have felt guilty. Guilty that she passed the BRCA1 gene on to me. She died without knowing she carried it. My aunt managed to get a vial of her blood to a lab and we found out later. When my mom was very sick, she sought out a second opinion from Hope, my oncologist. Hope urged her to get the genetic test, but claims my mom wasn't interested. She thinks it was because she didn't want to know whether she had passed it on to one of her daughters. I know how she feels. I am horrified just thinking that Sadie is carrying this same mutation in her little genetic makeup right now.
Up late the other night worrying (I am like my mother in more ways than just cancer), I googled her name and came across some pictures of her taken one month before she died. The pictures were taken as part of a project on cancer survivor practices, like Gi-Gong meditation and acupuncture. At first the pictures were shocking. I forgot how thin my mom was. And to see her out there, on the web like that, I felt she was exposed and vulnerable. I was mad. I emailed the photographer and asked that he prove she knew she would be part of a website in such a way. He wrote right back and assured me she knew and that she very much wanted to be a part of it. She wanted to show herself as a strong survivor of breast cancer. And I remembered that until the very the end, she was fighting. Three days before she died, my sisters took her to the Pine Street Clinic in San Anselmo for an appointment with her Chinese Doctor. Two days before, she was at Kaiser, meeting with her oncologist and getting a new pill form of chemotherapy. She never let us talk to her about whether she was going to die or not. When we cried, she told us to turn our tears in to prayers. Sometimes I am angry about this. Angry we didn't get to ask her all the things we wanted to ask and tell her all the things we wanted to say. I guess I saw it as denial when in fact it was what she needed to do to survive those last days of her life. Hannah was here the other day and we started talking about it. About death and our mom. I told her that I think that people do die, but it's the loved ones left behind that go through death. Death is so much worse than dying. If that makes sense. I have never been afraid of dying because of this. It's only when I think about Sadie or Greg, my family and all my friends that I am scared and sad. For me, I get to go to wherever it is we go--which is life's greatest mystery.
Just now I was out in our backyard watering and I discovered that one of the trees in our backyard is a dogwood tree. I had no idea this tree was a dogwood tree because it hasn't bloomed in the three years we have lived here. It chose today to expose its nature. I love dogwood trees. I don't know why--there's something about the blossoms with their little red tips. The flowers were part of our wedding invitation design my friend Amber did (you can see them here). I almost bought one at the nursery a week ago because I have always wanted one. It blooming today, on my mom's birthday, feels like this was a gift from my mom (yes, I am getting a little mushy here) and it got me thinking about perceptions and the way we look at things. One minute this tree was just some tree in our backyard, one of thousands surrounding our home in the Knolls. And the next, it was infinitely special and now my favorite part of our garden. And my mom, always calling me, worrying, was at the time, nagging to my young mind and now I know it was love.
Anyway, I debated whether to post these photos because again, at the time, I saw them as tragic and so sad. This woman fighting not knowing she was going to die four weeks later. But now, I see it another way. Yes, she was dying, but didn't let that stop her from fighting. From living. From hoping. I am proud of her for fighting until the end and so happy she did it her way. I chose to share the one that shows her beautiful head and her elegant loving hands. I love you mom. Happy birthday.
Love,
Rosalie