Friday, July 20, 2012

A Lump in My Throat

Well, it's been anything but normal around the Cole Cabana lately. Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up. (Gotta love The Princess Bride!)

1. On April 18, our son Wilson was born. I had a hard time coming to terms with my impending motherhood.  While I wanted to become a mom in theory, actually being a mom freaked me out.  I mean, I'm not willing to teach violin lessons because it's too much responsibility--what if I screwed my students up, rather than helped them?  It's an exponentially greater risk when you're talking about being a mom!  Thankfully, I have a wonderful support system, and Wilson's birth mother was able to see through my freaked-out-ed-ness to my heart.  And now, when my heart beats, it says "Wilson".

2. When Wilson was three weeks old, my mom came to live with us for a while.  She had open heart surgery in March, was in the hospital for the entire month of March, and still needed quite a bit of help.  I stayed with her at her house at the beginning of April until her brother was able to come and stay with her for a while.  Then, when he had to go back home to Idaho (a few days after Wilson was born), she went to stay with my older brother for a while.  After about three weeks, my older brother had to travel extensively for work, so that's when my mom came to live with us.  She lived with us for close to a month, and I'm so glad because:


3. My mom passed away on June 6 after two heart attacks.  This part is so hard for me to write.  She was only 65, but she'd been a widow for 10 years.  She hated having to be dependent upon her kids.  Between all of her diagnoses and syndromes and open heart surgery, she was constantly tired and in pain.  I hated seeing her like that, and she hated living like that.  Her only spot of joy was when she got to see her grandkids.  Based on all that (and the fact that I know without a doubt that she's in heaven), it's extremely selfish of me to wish her back here with me.  But I do.  I miss my buddy.

These things all combine to create a constant lump in my throat.  I was listening to a Brandi Carlile song the other day, and I discovered I was not able to sing through said lump.  Which breaks my heart yet again because singing and music gets me through heartache.   Incidentally, I was listening to the song Pride and Joy, which strikes a chord in me right now.  The chorus goes:

Where are you now?
Do you let me down?
Do you make me grieve for you?
Do I make you proud?
Do you get me now?
Am I your pride and joy?



Here's another song for you.  We played this at my mom's funeral.  This video is priceless to me--I'm so glad I got it!