9 Years.

It’s been 9 years. 

Every year I try to put my grief in to words. Every year I write and write and write, and then delete. I think it’s so important to share my feelings and the impact of losing my mom because I never want anyone to forget who she was and what she stood for. 

My mom was a true gift from the universe to anyone she crossed paths with. She was a bright light on the darkest of days, and cared so deeply about others that she often forgot to celebrate herself. 

So, every single day, I choose to celebrate her. I very rarely make a decision, big or small, without considering what she would have done. As I face the good, bad, and ugly that life throws my way, I am extremely thankful for the influence my mom had on me in the 22 years that I got to spend with her. Navigating life, I can’t help but wonder how my relationship with her would be at each new stage. I see her in the sunsets and the ocean, and I feel her in the music she loved. 

Nancy was about fun, honesty, and creativity – in that order. She never, ever, wanted our lives to be monotonous and did everything she could to keep our family moving in the right direction. Her Halloween costumes were out of this world – one year she handmade a Christmas tree costume and plugged herself into an outlet in the corner of a party so that the lights would work. Live entertainment was her favorite thing, whether a band at a beach bar, a Broadway show, or my dance recitals and competitions that she never missed. 

She took my friends and I to our first concerts. Showed us the best museums in the city. Planned vacations to gather our extended family. She usually was happiest with a glass of Pinot Grigio, some crab cakes, and Dad, Peter, & I at the table with her while The Beatles, Zeppelin, or Santana were playing in the background. 

She was hard on herself, although she didn’t need to be. She worried about what others thought of her, but may not have known that there’s not one single person that has a negative thing to say. Over 400 people came to her memorial service. 

My mom was a nurse, an artist, a confidant, the life of the party, and an outstanding example for my brother, cousins, and I. Most importantly, though, she was a fighter. 

She fractured her spine in a terrible car accident, won against Hodgkin’s lymphoma, dealt with major losses and obstacles in life and survived them all. Then on February 12, 2013, she called to tell me she had breast cancer. “I’ll be fine, honey!”  I can still hear it. I trusted her, because she trusted herself. 

Cancer is nasty, tricky, and a truly daunting challenge to face and she did so with grace. I went to each chemo session with her until we realized the chemo was causing more harm than good. Driving behind an ambulance from the outpatient center to the hospital because her oxygen levels had plummeted was a moment I will never forget. We switched to pills, then maintenance chemo. She had a double mastectomy and after treatment hit a pause, we thought we may have won. 

I remember the day I realized the cancer had spread. On the rooftop deck of a house in LBI in Summer 2014, my mom was aggressive and confused. Two things she never had been before. The confident, glowing, light hearted being that I knew and loved was already slipping away. We found out on September 7 of that year that the cancer was in her brain. 

Seeing someone who was your source of strength lose themselves is something I never would wish on my worst enemy. It’s unsettling, scary, and makes you question what forces are guiding our fate. 

Nancy passed away in my childhood home on January 14, 2015 as we surrounded her and told her it was ok to go. We couldn’t see her in pain any longer. The second we lost her, I lost a huge part of myself that I’m still trying to find. The grief is physically painful some days. 

Mom, you would be so proud of all of us. We have a new blended family, and Dad is so happy. You wanted him to find someone else that would care for, support, and laugh with him. He did and she is amazing. I finally have a sister now too! Peter and I are still finding our direction and purpose. He’s pretty darn close, and I’d like to think I am too. Matt and Michele are incredible partners to us, and I know you would be their best friends as you were to us. 

The hole in my heart will never get smaller, but the love I have for life is getting bigger around it. Going through major milestones without her makes me appreciate them even more. I can only hope that I find the courage to be as authentically myself as she always was. 

So, if you are still reading this, no matter who you are, just know that life does not always treat us fairly. Acknowledge that anything can change faster than the blink of an eye. Love deeply, dance freely, and always have dessert. 

I am always loving you, Nancy. Everything I do is for you.