Day 62 (the first Mother's Day)

I'm not a mother. I'm a step-mom, and since we only get to see my husband's son two or three (if we're lucky) times a year I don't consider this day for me. This weekend's been crazy cold after a lovely last week or so of sun and heat. So you know, typical Mother's Day weather for Western New York.

Dad sent me a text yesterday saying that he was taking Mom to Manhattan Bagel's for breakfast after Mass, because that's where Mary used to take them every year (except for last year but I'll save that for later). Rob and I had breakfast at home (Day Two of the "Great Belgian Waffle Experiment") but we went for coffee and the company. Dan and Levi and Haley came to breakfast too. The boys still have their breast cancer ribbons on their suit jackets. And Levi brought the framed certificate from his Science Olympiad team's present to him at their banquet. The teachers and team all chipped in and had a star named for Mary. What was formerly Taurus RA 4h 59m 31.45s D 25c 31' 8.80" is now named "Sunshine". She really is a See-STAR now.

The "official" certificate naming Mary's star.

For any astronomers out there, this is the location of "Sunshine" Star.

The yellow lines mark the Taurus constellation. The circled spot above the top left line of Taurus is where Sunshine Star is.

We had a good time at breakfast. More love and laughter and the sorrow was pushed down as we cope. We talked about the Komen Race for the Cure which is on June 8th this year. Mary was a part of this every year, and so we will continue on the tradition she started. Not that any of us ever "raced", I would say we "strolled" or "meandered" and I don't know that we ever did the full 5k. But that isn't why we went. Mary went to celebrate her survival. This year we will celebrate her life. Another first I get to look forward to, every step will be a dagger in my heart I'm sure. But I know she wouldn't want us to sit on our asses.

Later on I started thinking about last Mother's Day. Mary had just been diagnosed with her lung cancer. I don't remember the exact day of her diagnosis but I remember Mom and Dad asking their priest, Father Richard, if he would say a special prayer over Mary after Mass. He did, and I swallowed my criticism that faith is fine, but science is what has the power to help her. We all cried as he prayed, knowing the severity of this diagnosis. After Mass (which my father was wise enough not to suggest I attend this year) Mary and Dawn and I took my parents to Panera Bread. We had a good time, although the details over breakfast are foggy. I'm sure we talked about Mary's cancer and questions she should ask her oncologist. I'm pretty sure I pushed her to get a second opinion from the Thoracic Oncology Department at Roswell Park Cancer Institute. Mary had an aversion to Roswell though - she didn't want to be pushed to be part of a clinical trial, or be a "guinea pig" as she said. Plus one her closest and best friends was treated at Roswell Park for skin cancer that metastasized to her brain, which was the eventual cause of her death. Too many negative memories were associated with Roswell Park for Mary - and I understand why she didn't want to be seen there.

One of the few things we can do for others is respect their decisions. Especially for people who are sick, with very little options and/or time left on this earth. My Aunt Rita just passed away, less than a month ago. My mother was worried that her family would criticize her for not visiting her before she passed. Aunt Rita had been diagnosed with Stage IV pancreatic cancer a week or two before Mary passed away. She was given 3-6 months, and from what everyone I spoke to said Aunt Rita didn't want to see anyone, as sick and frail and tired as she was. I told my mom, who had chosen to text her sister instead, that she was respecting her dying sister's last wishes, and at the end of the day, that is all we can give a person that is dying. Our respect of their wishes and beliefs in their final days is the best way to honor a person. But that's just my opinion.

So, at 11:16pm on the first Mother's Day without her I can only think, "I got through it". And truth be told I took about a 4 hour nap in the middle of the day, so I guess I used sleep as my coping mechanism. My sister was more than a sister to me. 15 years older than me, she was like another mother - but, you know, the cool kind - that when you're mad at your real mom will talk to you in her bedroom and give you your first cigarette. A Marlboro Menthol. Or at your high school graduation party will run out to the store and get a bunch of wine coolers and beer for you and all your friends (even though we'd all been sneaking white zin from a box most of the day - and for all you naysayers, my mom made sure that everyone who drank at my party spent the night in sleeping bags in our living room - about 10 or 12 teen co-eds). She understood me in ways that no one else in my life ever will.

**If anyone is wondering about the links peppered here (and probably elsewhere as I keep writing) I just want to share information about certain topics. And I believe in using "vetted" sources, like the National Cancer Institute, when I can. I am all about promoting knowledge as power, and firmly believe that knowing more about cancer and prevention and self-advocating for you and your family is almost as important as treatment for the disease.**