Normay: My Other Mother

Hi Y'all,

I'm not sure about you, but every once in a while I have one of "those" days.

Usually, I'm pretty much an optimist. I mostly wake up on the right side of the bed, ready to face the world.   I see the glass half full.  Look for the silver lining.  Dig until I see the "Up Side" to any given situation -- even the difficult or seemingly tragic ones.

But this week, well, I had one of THOSE days.  I woke up and wished I could just color the sky dark, go back to sleep, and not have to walk in my own shoes or my own skin.

Granted, I had a "bug" that was wearing me down.  One of those cold-turned-into-chills, running-a-temp kind of days.  I'm sure that had something to do with it.  Other than that, the world was still on it's axis, my relationships were relating, and I still had all the normal blessings that I had in my life same as the day previous.  I just felt like crying.   I wanted to feel sorry for myself.  I wanted to take a vacation from being upbeat and positive.  I even felt like questioning God....and suggested to him that perhaps he wasn't playing fair.  

Usually, when I encounter one of these rare days, I suck it up.  I look at my daily calendar and start ticking off my list.  By the time I reach the second or third item on that list, I am usually back in the saddle and the cloud has lifted.  But not this day.  This day I just couldn't seem to get a leg up.  I forced myself to get up, showered, dressed.  Loved on my Critters.  Called a couple of friends to ask how THEY were doing.  (Focussing on others is usually the best medicine for one of those moods).

Yet, by the end of the day, I still felt hollow.  Like my soul, itself, was sad.  As I tried to sleep that night I tossed and turned.  I ached inside.  And then it dawned on me...the day before had been my late mother's birthday.  She's been gone 11 years now.  I had talked with my sister and we had reminisced about some of my mother's finer points.  It's something we do together every year....call each other on our parent's birthdays.  Both are gone.  They died 18 days apart.  We remembered her long lost recipes, which neither of us had written down, and are now gone forever.  It had been a good conversation.  Yet, this time, I guess it just left me missing her.   It reminded me of all the things I wished I had said to her when I still could.  Brought to mind all the regrets I had from being a selfish person in my young life...especially in my twenties.   I longed to hug her.  Tell her she was a good mother.  That I was sorry for the times I wasn't very loving.

Finally, just before dozing off, I realized -- even though I could not go back and do those things....I could pay it forward.

Let me explain.

Several years before my mother (parents) died, a very special woman entered my life.  Her name was (is) Normay.  We met at church.  She was in her late 70's at the time, and even though 35 years apart in age,  we hit it off right from our first encounter.  Our friendship flourished.  We spent many hours talking, laughing, and sharing life stories.  Little did I know then, that the relationship would become very much like a mother/daughter.  Or that just a few years after our meeting,  my biological mother would die, going into a coma before I could get to her side and say goodbye.

Normay loved me through that time.  She shared stories from her life.  Good and bad.  And she spoke truth to me.  When I was being a brat, she told me so.  And when I was on the right track, she was my best cheerleader.

As I lay in bed thinking about my mother, I thanked God that he in some ways, had given me a chance to have a "do over."  I asked God to help me.  To allow me to let my regrets go, and help me to pass on love to this second mother figure instead.  I needed to see Normay.  I wanted to touch her hand.  Tell her how much she means to me. 

But here's the problem.  I am currently on crutches and can't drive due to spontaneous fracturing in my right foot and am temporarily dependent on others to provide transportation for me.  I didn't want to put anyone out with an "extra" ride request, since my friends are already helping me out a lot with other transportation "needs."

The amazing thing:  The next day a mutual friend asked me about Normay.  Since I've not only been Normay's friend and "adopted" daughter" for many years now, but have also been her Health Care Power of Attorney for some time, I get regular updates on how she is doing, even if I currently don't get a chance to visit her much.  I was able to share with this person that the last report was discouraging because Normay was feeling very depressed and had expressed thoughts about giving up.  This person could tell just how much I really wanted to see Normay.  And bless her heart,  she offered to take me for a visit.  

So today, we spent a nice chunk of the afternoon visiting Normay.   We brought a special visitor along as well.

You see, when Normay had to give up her independence and move to a nursing home, she couldn't bring her cats with her.  She is an animal lover like me...and having to give up her fur babies was really difficult for her.  (One of her sons, Matt, took them in).  I wasn't able to bring her own cats to visit her.  But I was able to bring our adolescent kitten, Finnegan.   She had met Finney once before, right after we adopted him.  And then my foot fell to pieces, literally.   She wasn't expecting to see me.  And indeed, it was clear when I saw her that she was going through a rough spell.  

I took pictures of the transformation that a little orange kitty can have on a tired and depressed old woman.  I'd like to share my visit with you.

I also wanted y'all to know:  you may not always be able to have what you want.  But if you dig deep enough to figure out what is going on inside, and you decide to pay it forward to someone else when you are feeling blue yourself, you just might find a hidden blessing in having one of "those" days.

Normay, I love you.  I'm glad I could cheer you up, even just a little.   Your presence in my life has nourished my soul.  You'll always be:  my other mother.