Tag: Natural selections

Rainy Day Happiness

It’s what most would describe as a dreary, drizzly, cold northwest day. I say praise and glory to God for such days. It soothes my soul like nothing else to see the bay blanketed in low-lying sky that makes the world monochrome shades of silver and gray.

To get off work early, drive along the waterfront, find a parking spot and run into the art market for a quick inventory check is happiness. To hear someone was just there asking to see me was pure joy. To sit in my favorite new cafe where everything on the menu is tasty AND healthy is blessed.

Planning to spend this dreary afternoon immersed in creating my next design, wearing my baggy shirt and glue pants – picking the next flower petal to place in just the right spot.. ah what blissfulness. To plan a weekend of reorganizing my space and installing new storage bins– oh my what a glorious time of year!

©Belindabotzong2018

Eating Out Memorial

I saw an ad for a new pizza place today and my immediate, fleeting thought was that we would go try it out. Only we can’t.

Most Saturdays for the past few years involved going out to lunch somewhere with my mom. When we first started the routine of course we didn’t know it would be our routine. It was sporadic st first. She wasn’t one for anything fancy to eat. Often it was a cafe she’d worked at eons ago or something simple like Red Robin. She wasn’t adventurous in eating and of course no food was as good as her own.

She’d get on kicks and we’d repeat the same place or same meal for weeks in a row before we moved on to the next great thing. For awhile it was artichoke dip. Always prawns or shrimp. Sometimes the roast beef open face plate. Then pizza. Then Thai. Then you never knew. She’d love it or despise it. She told us about a commercial for coconut lobster at a certain restaurant and we took her. They denied such a thing existed on their menu and she insisted — she saw the commercial a thousand times and coconut lobster was her destiny. We were at a loss and the waitress was so rude it added to the dismay of no coconut lobster! Much later we found it was at a different restaurant that we don’t have here. So funny!

When she was right there was no arguing the point!

A few months ago we took her out to a nice restaurant and she was so mad. She wanted to go to the other one down the street. She complained the whole time. She was rude. She was disgruntled. Halibut with crab Hollandaise. Too fancy. Not enough crab. Oh my gosh! I said it’s the last time we all go out together. It was.

When we were little we were quite poor. Going out to eat was unusual for us. The very few times we did were so exciting. There was a place called the Princess. My parents had gotten their disabled veterans benefits instated and suddenly a splurge.. we ate at the Princess. I was very young so not sure what we had but it was so exciting it didn’t matter.

Once we had to travel to a wedding. We got to have breakfast at a restaurant- hot chocolate! Sticks in my mind as a novelty at the time.

As we got older of course ordering pizza became a thing. Going to McDonald’s after church became a routine. Or driving to Bellingham to Dickinson’s family buffet was our most favorite adventure in eating out.

And now it’s a common everyday thing. We travel around the world eating all kinds of things my mom would hate and going out to dinner or lunch is an everyday occurrence. And now she is gone. Two months. And the two months before that we couldn’t go out but I brought her whatever she wanted. Fish and Chips from Bobs. Ribs. Pizza. Corn Dogs from Hal’s. Egg Rolls from Asian1. And finally Fresh rolls from Little Thailand. And she died. And I miss her.

©Belindabotzong2018

The Estate Sale

It’s funny the things that run through your mind during times of high stress.

Yesterday was hard. It was hard getting the sale posted correctly to social media. Frustrating.

It was hard driving down in the early morning light and feeling so much mixed up in my head. My heart. It’s just hard.

It’s hard when the people flock in an hour early even though it specifically stated in my ad NO early birds. Please respect my family privacy. Sale starts at 9. And there they were at 8am asking if we were open yet. So rude.

It’s hard to watch people plunder even tho they were invited to plunder. It’s hard to see all the “stuff” she loved now with little red price tags. It’s hard to watch it get passed over! Isn’t that weird? This is her stuff. She loved Collections, Etc., catalogs. She loved thematic decor and it’s funny how she liked the goofy and silly more than the refined or expensive. Yet that’s what others like too. I chose the least ornate most special ones for me– and they are the ones she liked the least. Lenox. Made in Italy. They are exquisite glass. She preferred the ones that clucked and crowed and had silly expressions.

It’s hard when people come and go.

What made it easier were the people who stopped in who knew her. My best friend, Sharon, spent all day with us. She was amazing. She stayed busy all day arranging and rearranging and making suggestions and just being here. She’s also the one who showed up weeks ago with a cleaning bucket and rubber gloves and cleaned bathrooms and the kitchen and was just here and part of it all. It made me glad to have a long-time best friend of 34 years who has the gift of doing such things!

My other best friend lives far away but her dad, who will soon be 80 and who grew up next door to my mom stopped by and gave me a hug, said this really stinks, and he was so sweet. My mom used to paint his fingernails as a kid – at least that’s what she always said! Funny thing. I still vaguely remember when HIS mom, Mabel, died. She was my grandmas neighbor.

So we sold a lot of little things. A few big things and today we are back for the half price sale .. and I was thinking on the drive down about a few things.

The past few years my mom and I lived intertwined with her dependence on me being heavier and heavier. When you’re going through that it’s hard to remember some days that it’s only for a limited time. It’s like raising children – the days are long but the years are short. Some days it feels heavy and suffocating. Some days are hilarious and full of joy. About two months ago I surprised my mom by just showing up. The majority of visits the past year were scheduled with doctors appointments, errands, needs. I was feeling like I just wanted to be her kid and her to be my mom and not be needed, just wanted. So I showed up on a weekday afternoon and she was so surprised. And we didn’t go anywhere or do anything. We just sat and visited and watched something on tv and it was so refreshing I thought I might try that again someday. But then she fell again. And so that never happened again. A few months before I did a sleepover with her. She was so excited she made all my favorites. Fried chicken wings and mashed potatoes and corn.

All her stuff is being sold or donated today. People are getting deals. Making offers. Half price. It’s becoming more final. The green fuzzy monkey just sold! The curtains she just bought sold. The little pot, the mirrored tray, the picture frame. Sold.

It will all get donated to a place that cares for animals. This will be good for their auction– all the chickens and roosters and furniture.

I cry less each day but today is hard. I’m thankful for friends, cousins, and especially my sisters and my niece. And the Lord Jesus because he’s holding me together.

Moving Forward

I made it two days in a row with no tears. I even told my story twice with no tears. I think that’s moving forward. Five weeks have passed since I sat by her bed at the hospital holding her hand.

Today was a different day. Another day off work to handle the estate, as we are now calling it. Official. Judges orders. I’m the manager– what the heck is my deal with managing everything except those dang tears.

I drove down to meet the amazing team from Irongate Estates. They helped organize an entire garage full of her stuff which includes a minimum of a thousand chicken-themed items. Coasters. Figurines. Magnets. Hats. Figurines. More figurines. Chickens in every size and shape and outfit imaginable. Some not imaginable. Crazy chickens. Anyway, I would say that these are the nicest people in the world. RB, Carol, and Luke. I’m so impressed.

After a couple hours working with them I abandoned them with a promise of pizza as I headed to Mt Vernon to the lawyers office to pick up judges orders.

I got back to Sedro Woolley via the back way my mom and I always preferred – through the Nookachamps- where there were surprisingly only a small flock of snow geese or trumpeters. But still one of my favorite drives. The barns. The farms. The beauty of the Skagit Valley. And that’s when I lost a tear.

I stopped at the bank. I know most people are down on Wells Fargo as a corporation. But the ladies at this branch are so dang sweet. And Good at their jobs. And my mom adored them which I always thought was weird. Anyway.. couldn’t do the account without the official death certificate. Which I thought was in the pile from the lawyer but as part of my educational process I learned that the court keeps the original. And the only other original I have. At home. 35 miles north. Grrr. This wouldn’t be so annoying but guess what? Last week when I took everything to the lawyer to file I didn’t leave her the original will. I had made this double trip already due to all these requirements so today I was a little mad at myself.. and I still had to get pizza for the crew back at the house — so I placed an order online with Dominos and called in fresh rolls for me –and I had to pee so bad my eyes were floating. So I managed to make it across from the bank to pee, stopped to take a few pictures because I am always looking for another creation, then picked up the pizza. I must say here that the guy at Dominos in Sedro is the happiest guy. Last time I was there was to get pizza for my mom on a stressful day and he was so nice and cheerful both times. I told him he needs a raise. Good job!! (See that’s what I like– great customer service). Had to wait for Thai. But it’s worth the wait. It was what I got for my mom the last time I saw her. Fresh rolls with shrimp. While I was waiting one of my uncles friends finished lunch and was walking past me on his phone. I waved and he nodded. Then turned and handed me his phone. I said hello and it was my uncle. Haha. Small world. Small town.

Dropped off food and that lovely crew was flying through their well-rehearsed arranging and pricing …and had moved the biggest furniture without breaking a sweat. Such absolutely great people. I think I might have to change the title to Great Customer Service in times of grief.

Made it back to Bellingham, ate my fresh roll, even shared one with my son, then hit the road south — back to the bank where all went well.

I’m telling you all the details because it’s been so long since I blogged this grief experience. I had considered the past few days not sharing any more of this but for those of you who haven’t gone through it, you will. And maybe it’ll help you. Maybe it helps me.

At the end of the banking visit I had to walk to the post office down the alley behind Main Street and I did a photo shoot of all the amazing brick walls. I had to mail the letter to the lawyer agreeing to follow the rules and do my best to carry out the will of my mom.

Then I got a text from my sister just as I was heading home. Dinner! Yes!! Mexican food. At the last place my mom and I ever went out to eat. And one of my best friends mom came in with a group of ladies. The same group of ladies who were eating there that day with my mom! The Lord is good to let me hug my friends mom who was also my moms friend. Small town. Everybody knows everybody.

I came back home and organized all the estate paperwork into my fancy new binder the lawyer gave me to keep all the paperwork in.

I worked on my latest creations and now I’m going to pass out on my pillow. For some reason I’m a bit weary. But I feel blessed. Everyone I dealt with today was kind and the weather was perfection. I am thankful to be a little closer to moving forward.

©Belindabotzong2018

The Original

One of a kind

Larger than life

Hilarious

Recurring descriptions on sympathy cards covered in flowery words

Kindnesses and thoughts from those left behind

She was an original

She wasn’t allowed to drive due to seizures

But she bought a tiny yellow Smart Car 🚗 for me to drive her around in and named it Buttercup

Her numerous doctors appointments were filled with her bragging about her Buttercup. She would get doctors and techs to come outside to see her Buttercup. The eyelashes my uncle put on drew all manner of attention. She, who otherwise was a more solitary being, loved and delighted in the attention Buttercup drew. People waved, stared, smiled and honked. People waved us over to ask about Buttercup. At the gas station, without fail, everyone wanted to know gas mileage and factoids.

She loved Buttercup and was always praising her for her looks and charm while I was cursing the horrible engineering that jarred my kidneys over every small bump. Not to mention the railroad tracks, bridge transitions, and potholes. French people should stick to making wine and cheese I would tell her. She would defend that Buttercup like a mother cub and hated my insults. Last month she made me get a license plate that said “BTTRKUP”- I had just installed it on our last scenic.

Her hair was a huge disappointment to her. As it thinned from over-processing and with age she was in constant distress over her “bald spot”. Every outing started with coaxing those remaining strands of hair into an illusion of lusciousness. Only my sister, a hairdresser, could pull off that magic trick. Then I would have to spray VO5 until I was gasping for air. It is the smell of my childhood – hairspray and Coty Wild Musk.

She loved loved loved bling and coordinated outfits. The collection of earrings we gathered from around the world was astounding. Funky. Dangling. Shiny. Butterflies. Ladybugs. Feathers. Tacky. Holiday themes. Nothing was too snazzy for her.

She had shoes in every color to match her outfits and loved to put little tiny clippies all over in her perfectly coiffed hairdo.

Rhinestones and ripped jeans. V-neck T-shirt’s in every color – Plus tie dye.

No one was their own name. We were all interchangeable in our real names but nicknames were all our own. Melissa. Pete. Oodie. Bunny. Gina. Booboo.

Shopaholic in those catalogs in the mail. Collections. Oriental trading. Piles and piles of amazing things that everyone needs and apparently didn’t even know you wanted– the possibility of owning a gun shaped toilet plunger should delight any redneck in the family. And if she knew you liked a certain thing it became her mission to purchase any possible item in that category. I like strawberries and have had that theme in mind for my kitchen since I was 12. She bought fairy strawberries. Twice. She bought a knife holder strawberry. Salt and pepper strawberries. Everything strawberries. She collected chickens. 25 years ago she worked in a hatchery and thus began the quest to own any item with a chicken motif. Years and years friend and relations poured their hearts into chickens. My aunt has a horse. My mom was set on the idea that this translates to wanting anything with a horse design. My aunt would disagree and this befuddled my mom’s way of thinking. She bought Superman socks for one of my coworkers because he was so sweet and he kinda looked like Superman. And Batman socks with capes on them for another who runs marathons because she thought that would inspire him to run better. Not.

She was humiliating – telling all her doctors that I was so smart and then arguing if I tried to interpret her rants and round about stories filled with all her nonsense words for them. She called out to strangers thinking they were someone she knew. So many times. It was embarrassing. She loved sayings that were inappropriate or off the wall. “Colder than a witches hoohoo” – bring just the tip of an iceberg. Saying words incorrectly on purpose brought her great joy. Brefkast. Really?

She could peel a ten pound bag of potatoes in minutes and was in a constant search for the ultimate spud peeling knife. Absolutely refused a vegetable peeler. And she diced those spuds into perfect cubes and fried them up for everyone.

Potato salad and baked beans. Pasta salad and macaroni and cheese. The staples of every bbq or feast. Cookies cakes and pies. Yum!

She got into certain “kicks” with food. I was in charge of groceries and she would go for weeks at a time wanting specific cereal or bread or whatever. The most recent was Raisin Bran with bananas. Before that it was frosted mini wheats tiny bites Only!! Groceries were a subject of contention with us. I celebrate instacart and click list as if they were nobel prize material. She despised that she couldn’t go pick out her own groceries. Constantly complaining about the size -flavor -color -quality -brand of everything.

She suffered with pain, seizures, arthritis, uncontrolled hypertension and poor nutrition choices. She fought the doctors and nurses. She adored the receptionist at the nephrologist. She could be rude or take them in like family. No matter what she was in charge.

One of a kind original. Gooie. My mom.

©Belindabotzong2018

And then what happened?

Normal returns

A solid week of grieving

Clinging to ideal memories

Visualizing complete and perfect healing

Sharing words of comfort, wisdom, hopes, and fears

Laughing and crying til there are no more tears

A shiny pink casket

A brilliant sunny day highlighted in gold, red, and orange Autumn leaves

A song, a speech, a memory poured out between sobs. Exhortation to believe in Jesus and heaven and forgiveness.

Staring then cleaning. Phone calls and emails. Conversations filled with her voice as we reminisce and remember

Together and apart so much to do

Then Monday comes. The house is empty. The trash cans full to overflowing. The shredding and burning complete. The photos sorted and memories shared. The echoes of a life hard fought.

And our “new normal” begins with an empty spot where there are no more phone calls missed. No more voice mails that start out “Hey…”. No more doctors appointments, lunches, scenics.

She’s on her final journey to somewhere even more beautiful than her beloved Sedro-Woolley where she was born, where she raised five children, and where she died in what she thought was heaven on earth.

Now she sees clearly His face, their faces, and she sees the spectacular home He and they have prepared for her. A mansion. No tears. No pain. Just love and joy and peace. Pure love and pure joy and pure peace.

Off to work we go. Loving you and others. The Lord. My mom.

©Belindabotzong2018

90-day Supply

The way my mind works this could be a disturbing art piece.

I am at the police station where you can drop off prescription drugs and over the counter medications and supplements.

They gave me a little paper bag to open all the containers and dump. That full, I went to ask for another and yet another. Then I thought of all the colors and dumped them all out again so I could take a photo because they are so beautiful.

They were to keep my mom going. Blood pressure. Kidney protection. Seizures. Arthritis. Pain. Digestion. Allergies. A 90-day-supply to keep her ticking.

They represent so many things. Years of battling against chronic disease. Years of research and development. Thousands of dollars spent to treat, prevent, or slow down the progression of illnesses.

But there is no magic pill to combat the years and choices and genetics and the design. We are made to deteriorate over time because we live in a fallen world.

The only way to end suffering is to finally die. We can work out and eat right and take supplements and never need to seek medical treatment. But in the end it all leads to the same outcome. Death.

The question becomes where do you spend eternity. It lasts a lot longer than the minutes we spend in this body.

Jesus.

©Belindabotzong2018

First Best Friends

My daughter left today

My very best friend

Moving forward

Life’s journey

My mom is in the hospital

My first best friend

Moving forward

Life’s journey

I cleaned out my daughters room

Childhood memories and piles of artwork mixed with more piles of seventeen years of school assignments

Some I tossed without a care. Others I kept with a tear. Everything from journals to teeth to her final pacifier. Coins from around the world. Paint brushes to hair brushes. Invitations, celebrations. Report cards and note cards. Whispers of a treasured childhood and exclamations if struggles and victories.

She packed her car and drove away with multiple hugs lingering in my arms and sweet kisses on my face. I see her in my rear view mirror as that precious toddler who cried at my leaving for work. Now I lose a tear at watching her drive away a newlywed with big dreams and plans.

I am her biggest fan and her first best friend. My daughter.

—

My mom is medically unstable and poorly responding to treatment, preparing for her journey home to Jesus. Sooner or later.

I imagine soon I will be going through her things and clearing out decades of memories and accumulated items that are profoundly important and those clearly meaningless in the scope of things.

Old bills, photos from a century past, documents and piles of memories and catalogs galore filled with trash and treasures for earthly pleasures.

And I see her in my rear view mirror holding my toddler in her arms and waving goodbye as I headed off to work and she stayed behind to help her grow up.

I will watch her go ahead of me as it should be and she will cheer me on from above as she always has. My biggest fan. My first best friend. My mom.

©Belindabotzong2018

Glorious Sunset Moonrise

The shoreline is quickly crowded with viewers rushing toward a dazzling sunset

Cameras snapping over and over as others sit quietly basking in the glow of red, orange, and yellow streaks across the sky

There is a holiness to the hush as the sun dips into the sea and as if on a pulley, the full harvest moon arises in sync with the sunset.

Without realizing, the crowd is being awed by the creator of all things —

light, darkness, seasons, change,

even the ability to appreciate the gift of nature’s art

All created by a living, loving, masterful artist.

He is the Lord God who has lifted the same moon over centuries.

He has pressed the same sun into the same ocean of millennia.

He has painted the same sky over and over for time infinitum.

He has turned the pages of the seasons repeatedly over generations.

And still his most beloved creation, you, me, the homeless, the wealthy, the weakest, the strongest, the worn down and the high and mighty, all stop to acknowledge the stunning beauty and majesty of a sunset. A moonrise.

Who ever said, “how boring” as the sun blazed brilliant colors across the sky?

Who ever didn’t gasp at the enormity of a harvest moon in all its glory?

Who says it’s all just a monotonous routine, the rising, the setting, the brilliance, the tides, the change of seasons, the ebb and flow of life?

The stunning beauty of it all should ignite a spirit of praise within us that leads to complete devotion to the most high God, to the most magnificent artist, to the creator of heaven and earth.

©Belindabotzong2018