With broken heart.

This blog has been coming for a while.  As in......about 2 1/2 weeks.

I've not been able to bring myself to write it, even though I know it's something that needs to be done.

See, my wonderful mom......the one that I have talked about so much on here......the one that I loved to pieces.....my best friend.....the one that I was so sure was getting better.........she passed away on August 30th. I can't begin to describe how much I miss her.

At a time like this, I've heard it's really easy to get mad at God. I've heard it, but I'm not mad at God. Confused? Yes. Sad? Extremely. Do I feel like I'm in a bad dream? Absolutely. But can I change it? No.
Therefore, I could never be mad at God. He has blessed me beyond compare, and on top of everything, He gave mom to us longer than He could have. If we think about it, He could have taken her way back in 2007 when she lost her arm. We were fortunate enough to have her for 4 1/2 more years.

I don't want to ask why, but I can't seem to stop. We know God sent us the herbal tea she was on, and we truly thought it was working. She had every single sign and signal that the tea was working to break up her cancer. But it didn't. I can't say that it didn't help her at all, because I saw that it did with my own eyes. She was strong right up to the very end. She was alert, her memory was amazing, she had an appetite........just so many things that were a true blessing to her. But it just wasn't enough to completely heal her.......here. I think it did make it easier for her to slip out of this world and go home to Heaven, though. And there, she is completely healed. Whole once again.
I really try not to question, but sometimes I can't help it. I feel like we prayed and prayed and prayed to keep her here, and yet she's gone. There are times that I feel like it's my fault. Like I could have done something more to keep her, or that I didn't take good enough care of her, but then when I think about it, I'm still left at a complete blank, because I don't know what I could have done that would have changed anything. I know dad blames himself, too, and so does Russ. I think it's just normal when you love someone like we loved her.......like we still love her.

I have many, many good and wonderful memories of mommy in my lifetime, but her last days are etched in my memory and I can't seem to stop thinking about them. The look on her face as she was at home and gasping for breath, the way she turned blue before the paramedics got there, the way that I saw the color come back to her face once they put the oxygen on, how limp her body was when they put her on the stretcher, and most of all, the sadness that engulfed me when the doctor at the hospital told us that mom could never breathe on her own again, and the best thing to do would be to let her go in peace. Her lungs were so full of the cancer, she would never be able to get rid of it all. There was nothing that could be done.
We were in the room with her as she took "her last step of faith" as our preacher said at the funeral. We were crying, making sure we all said that we loved her, hugging her, kissing her, and just being there. She would have wanted it that way. I know she heard us, and knew we were there. At that time......she was ready to go.

That's the comfort I get. Knowing that she was ready to meet God. And not only that she was ready, but that she had prepared for that moment over 45 years ago when she was saved. I know that she's in Heaven right now, and that is my comfort. Knowing that I'll see her again one day......that's even more comfort.
In all reality and honesty, I wouldn't bring mom back to this world to be sick like she was for anything. No matter how much I miss her. See, I'm grieving now, but I'm not really grieving for mom. Mom doesn't need me to be sad for her. She's extremely happy! She doesn't even know that I exist. There are all kinds of people that say "Well, she's looking down on you now." But she's not. I accept this fact, because I know how Heaven is. If my mom looked down and saw me sitting here crying the way I do every day, she wouldn't be happy. She'd be so sad, and she would miss me, and she would want to come back and try to comfort me. Then she would cry. And there are no tears in Heaven.

Most days, I'm OK. I go to work and I try to occupy my mind with other things, and most of the time I can get through the day. But then.......it will get to be about 2 in the afternoon, and I'll think "I think I'll text mom and see what she's up to." And then I just stop. I just stop whatever I'm doing and realize that she's not there. Then I have to try and talk myself out of thinking the whole thing has been some awful dream. It's all I can do to keep from slapping myself to try and wake up.
I would give anything to talk to her again. Just to ask her things. Maybe silly things......or recipes that she's told me a hundred times that I never bothered to remember, just because I always thought I'd be able to ask again. Now I can't.

I have wonderful support. First of all, God is there and I pray all the time for help. I know He comforts me and will continue to do so. And Dan is the best husband I could ever ask for. He's been there with me through everything and I couldn't ask for him to do more. Dad and Russ are great as far as being there for me, and I try to be there for them too. It seems we all have bad days at different times. Another blessing from God. If we were all down at the same time, it would be completely miserable. But this way, we're able to remind each other that mom is so much better now, and that we shouldn't begrudge her that just because we're selfish.

Dad started back to work this week, and I began my new day to day. Before, when mom was well, I was always at her house by 8, and that was our time to visit before work. Now, 8 rolls around and I feel as though I need to be doing something.......but there's nothing. So, I'm throwing myself into my housework, sorting through things that we never use to send to auction, doing some baking, and just trying to establish a new normal. It won't be easy, by any means, but I have no other choice.

I have a strong feeling that I will never get over wanting to talk to her, or see her, or spend time with her, even though she's gone. I'll never stop having that feeling of needing to call her in the middle of the afternoon just to see how she's doing. I'll never get over the feeling of an empty space at church on Sunday or the lunch thereafter. I'll never stop thinking about asking her to ride along with me every time I go somewhere. And every time I go to cook something, I'll second guess myself and turn to ask her if I'm doing it right.
That's what a big influence she was in my life. And I never want her to leave me completely. I'm thankful and blessed to have had her for the 25 years that I have, and she will forever live on in my heart.

I love you mommy. See you soon. 

Why, yes. I am one of "those home-schoolers".

Alright. So maybe that's not a big secret.
Pretty much every single person that lives in this small little town that I was born and raised in knows that. Not mention countless others that I have met in my lifetime, and now even those that I haven't met.
It's not something that I am ashamed of. I'm pretty proud of it, really.
"So what's to be proud of?" You might ask.
Allow me to tell you my story.

I was enrolled in a public school for the very first year of school, commonly known as kindergarten. My mom dropped me off every morning and picked me up after lunch every afternoon. The occasional odd job or late errand caused one of my grandmothers to pick me up.
In the true spirit of "cause and effect", the sight of one of them picking me up instead of my mom caused the contents of my stomach to affect me in ways that I didn't care for. Neither did the janitor on duty. But I couldn't help it. I was terrified.
As a young child, I was somehow convinced that my mom would walk out of the school one morning and decide she didn't want me anymore, so she just wouldn't come back. Or what's worse, she would be rushing back to pick me up, have an accident and die. Thus would be the reason my grandma was there to get me.
(I never seemed to take in to account that my grandma looked so happy to see me. I guess you don't think about things like that when you're 5.) 


Thankfully, none of the above ever happened outside the deep corners of my mind, where these thoughts ran wild from the ages of about 4 to 12. Just for the record, no. That isn't why I was pulled out of school.
(I'm getting there. Don't get your panties in a wad.)


To this day I can still remember some things about that class; My teachers name, some of my friends faces, field trips, a Valentine's Day party, and the very first boy I had a crush on holding my hand in the hall. I remember losing my first baby tooth there, but I don't remember actually "learning" anything there. We played games, looked at books, colored and took naps. Basically, it was daycare.
Even at the young age of 5, I was more of an outcast than a social butterfly. Shy, backwards, didn't express myself well.......all the ingredients of a nerd. I had one girl that I felt close enough to talk to, so I deemed her the honor of being my best friend. (She was so lucky.) For this next part of my story, she'll need a name. So, we'll refer to her as "Little Miss S".

STRIKE 1:
Little Miss S, being my best friend as she was, entitled her to my full attention. I sat next to her at lunch, we played together at recess.....you know. The full package. Another part of the package, is my full protection. In other words, if you picked on her, you picked on me. Plain and simple. I just felt it was my sworn duty to defend her honor to the death......or the principals office, which was worse. I really can't tell you what made me feel that way, because I was really, really shy. I guess I've always been one to love deeply, and I don't like people hurting those I love.
One day at recess, the richest girl in my class (or possibly the school) decided to start picking on Little Miss S by forcing her to turn over her candy. The rich girl threatened Little Miss S by saying there would be no more friendship between them if the candy wasn't handed over immediately. So, Little Miss S handed the mean rich girl her candy and then proceeded to sit down on the sidewalk and cry like a baby. As I stood there watching, I grew madder and madder. The next thing I knew, I was walking towards that rich bully with the intent of smashing her nose in! In the end, though, my nerves won out, so instead of actually hitting her, I just stood there threatening her, just as I had seen her threaten Little Miss S not 5 minutes before. To this day I don't know where the teacher was when the rich girl was threatening my friend, but I know where she was when I was threatening the rich girl. Right behind me.
My little adventure cost me a time out with the teacher for the rest of recess, a trip to the office, and a call to my mother for "fighting on the playground". I think this was one of the first times my parents realized how school was changing me. Don't get me wrong, my parents didn't have a problem with me finishing a fight, but trying to start one was another story. After that episode, I returned to my normal personality of shyness, and basically tried to stay out of everybody's way

STRIKE 2:
I don't know how they do things now, but at that time they grouped 5 to 6 kids all together at one little table so we could socialize and keep each other company. I never seemed to be able to get along with the kids at my table. Just when I would start to get used to some of them, the teacher would move me around. When we would go to another classroom for music, to the library, or at lunch was the only time I would see Little Miss S, and so I hardly thought that was fair. But I dealt with it. The thing that I never understood was why I was always seated at a table with 2 or 3 boys who would all take turns sitting under the table for half of class. Maybe I should take this opportunity to explain that, my mother, wanting a daughter for the many years that she had, always wanted me to look girlish, so I wore a dress to school every day. I was told some years later why the boys were always sitting under the table, and why I was constantly being moved. So much for being shy.

STRIKE 3:
While I was being shuffled from table to table, as told in the story above, I learned some interesting things.
I learned about a little girl who could cry and get whatever she wanted, a little boy who "fibbed" to his mom about breaking a glass, and I learned a lot of new words that I had never heard before. But I thought "Hey, if these other kids are doing this, I can too." 
So I was at home one day, playing, and I asked my mom to play a board game with me. She said she would in "just a minute". After about 5 of these minutes, I was getting impatient. Here she was, doing laundry of all things, when she should be sitting on the floor playing with me! After she walked passed me for what seemed like the hundredth time, I was just plain angry. And then it happened. I said something my classmates had told me to say in a situation like this;

 "Where the he** do you think you're going?"


One phrase. One.....teeny.....tiny question. That laundry basket dropped out of my mom's hand like it was on fire. She spun around and gave me "the mom look". (If you've never received this look, I don't know whether to feel sorry for you or tell you how lucky you are.)
Once I saw that expression on her face, I was sure I'd get one dickens of a spanking. Instead, she came toward me, got down on her knees, and asked me where I had heard that phrase. When I told her I had heard it at school, she kind of relaxed. Then she explained to me some of the things that were NOT OK to say, and why. I'm pretty sure that's the day that it happened. That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

I'm sure there were other incidents that made my parents decide to pull me out of public school, but these are the main 3 that have stuck out in my mind. But let's face it, they're reason enough.
Homeschooling isn't the weird, cult-like situation that you may think it is. In fact, I would just about guarantee that you've met several people that were/are home-schooled, and if they didn't tell you, you would never know. Grant it, there are other kinds of people that can give homeschooling a bad name, and those are the "stereotypes". Don't judge all home-schoolers by these people. We are not all created equal.
Every year after I was pulled out, my parents would sit down with me before they paid my tuition and ask me if I wanted to return to public school. The very young years that I mentioned earlier, I probably stayed home for the wrong reasons. I was scared of being left, so I decided to stay home. Once I got in to my early teens, I'll admit, it was hard to let go of all those old fears that I had clung to for so long, but I did it eventually. I don't think it helped me to have people constantly nagging me to be someone I wasn't, either. But it happened on almost a daily basis. There weren't too many people homeschooling in my area when I was doing it, so I was really one of the outcasts. To a certain degree, I'm still there. But there's one difference between now and 15 years ago;
Now I like being an outcast.

I hope you all enjoyed hearing my story, because I certainly loved telling it. If you feel like it, leave me a comment. I would love to know what you think.

Until next time,
Nikki

Just a bit.....

.....of miscellaneous info. This way you can get to know me, if you don't already.

I'm Nikki O'Callaghan and I have a hard time describing myself. Believe it or not, I'm not that good with words, and am a terrible speller. So much so, in fact, that I'm still reveling in the wonder of how I spelled "miscellaneous" all the way through the first time with no mistakes! Gold star for me!

OK, so now we know I'm an awful speller, most of the time I'm grammatically incorrect, and I have a hard time making sentences.........so why am I writing a blog?
I'm not really sure what it is. I guess the strong desire to vent the ideas that are constantly roaming around in my head. As for myself, I love reading blogs and finding out cool stuff about people that I didn't know, or a recipe that sounds good, or reading about their travels to other places.........so, I feel like if one person can get some enjoyment out of MY craziness, I'm good.

I was homeschooled for all 12 grades and loved every minute of it! I am a strong homeschool advocate, and have no problems promoting homeschooling to friends, family and even complete strangers. I am thankful to God every day that my parents had the foresight to pull me out of public school.  I don't feel as though I missed a thing. I had a prom, a graduation ceremony, and a class ring. I was in plays, music concerts, choir concerts. We had field trips......everything a public school kid has, and a whole lot more. I won't get in to a whole lot of details right now, but I do plan on doing a post about homeschooling in the near future.

I've been married now for almost 4 years to my best friend. Dan and I met in 2004, we started dating in 2005, got engaged in 2007, and married in 2008. Our story is a very interesting one, and someday, I will most likely tell you the tail. It includes mistaken identity, music, heartbreak, reconciliation (Woo! Another gold star!), and talk of far away travels. I know you won't want to miss that.

My wonderful parents, brother and sister-in-law, nieces and nephew and grandmothers keep my life pretty busy, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I love helping my family! Sometimes do so much for them, my husband tells me I'm putting myself on the back burner, but I can't help it. I've always been that way.
I was born 17.5 years after my brother, and we are the only two children. It's been different, but we know God had a plan by sending me so much later than my brother. It has become obvious in the past few years, when mom was diagnosed with Chondrosarcoma cancer and had to have her right arm removed.  She does so great on so many things, but there are still times when she needs assistance. So, enter me. Dan and I live right across the street from mom and dad, and whilst some people tell me they can't understand how I can live so close, I have no problems. You will be gradually introduced to some of these crazy and wonderfully lovable characters in the near future as well.

That's pretty much all I'll get in to right now, because after all, this is just an introduction, and I don't want to overstay my welcome. I hope that in the future we will be good friends, as I welcome you into my life, and hope that you find it as amusing and lovable as I do.

Until next time,

Nikki