October 29, 2009, I stood in front of the crowd gathering at Tammie’s wake and I realized that out of the dozens of people who showed up to celebrate her life, I had known her the shortest length of time. Her family, friends, colleagues, and associates filtered through the door sharing their most cherished memories. I realize that not having her in my life longer than I did was truly my loss.
My first meeting with Tammie was on April 20, 2008. It was Sean’s 25th birthday. My meeting with her was unplanned. It was the first time I had met Sean in person, too.
As you may or may not know, we met on the Internet. Facebook to be exact.
So I met Tam in April and I didn’t see her again until August. I spent that summer in Virginia. Upon my return, Sean and I began dating. We didn’t think much about how little time he was spending with his mom until she added a picture to MySpace captioned, “The reason I never see Sean anymore.” It was a picture of us.
I knew something had to change.
Sometime last fall we began visiting her at her apartment in Watervliet one night every couple of weeks. We’d have pizza and watch movies. These nights continued for about three or four months. We tried to visit as often as possible, but sometimes unfortunate Albany weather stood in our way. It was obvious that both Sean and his mom were disappointed when plans fell through. You see, from the first time I saw them interact I knew they had a very loving relationship. He made it known that she was his number one woman. He was her best friend. And I was OK with that.
Unfortunately circumstances began to unfold in early 2009. You might be aware of the situations, but if you’re not, all I’ll say is she was living back in Ravena by the time spring rolled around. So she was my next door neighbor now. I had moved away from my family in 2007 when I came to college. Our relationship was, and is, still strong, but my mom wasn’t physically present in my life like a mom generally is by no fault of her own. But Tam still filled that void in my life.
I remember giving Tammie flowers on her birthday and on Mother’s Day. They are only a couple weeks apart, but I had no one else I could give flowers to. Sean is great, but I don’t think he’s the flower type. I remembering cooking dinner for us and her helping me with the directions. I’ve never been much of a chef.
I remember weekends we’d just hang around the house and talk and gossip. We’re both girls after all! And I remember a week straight of helping her move out of her apartment. She had to be out by 12 AM on June 1. May 31 at 11:40 we shoved the last piece of furniture in her car and hit the road.
In mid-July I attended the most celebrated tradition in Tam’s family -- The Wellsville Balloon Rally -- a celebration they’ve been going to for years and years. Although situations arose that were less than ideal, I’m grateful that I was able to experience this with her and family.
The time after we returned from Wellsville was rocky. Tammie’s health was declining, though none of us knew what was wrong. Through it all, Sean proved dedicated to his mom. He brought her food and sometimes even hand-fed it to her. In early September he told me that he didn’t know how much longer he could deal with the situation. No one knew it was as bad as it really was. The day after Labor Day -- the 8th -- she was to attend a doctor’s appointment. From what I understand she was then instructed to go to the emergency room. She was admitted that night. No one knew she’d never be coming back home.
In the coming weeks she was diagnosed with cancer and was admitted to the hospice in Albany. Me, Sean, and Mike began visiting her in her room every day. We brought her whatever food or drink she wanted. It was painful watching her lie in her bed and ask to come home. What do you say to someone in a situation like that?
The weeks dragged and flew by at the same time. Her health was, what appeared to be, a roller coaster. Some days she sat up and carried on a conversation with everyone in the room and others she did little more than mumble “chocolate milk” -- something that didn’t change with her health.
September passed and October arrived. We had to renew our parking permit for the hospital garage. That was a good sign. Then we got to the heart of October. It was clear she was going downhill. The majority of conversation stopped and by the 20th or so was almost completely gone. And then the 25th came. It was just like any other day. I went to work in the afternoon. Sean went at night. And then she went. I wasn’t there, but I imagine it was peaceful and she looked beautiful the whole time. That was two weeks ago, today, and we’re all trying to get ourselves back on track.
To all her friends and family: I know it’ll never be the same. And to Tammie (Mom #2): I got your best friend now -- I’ll never let anything happen to him. I’ll keep him in my arms forever. Don’t worry.
So I met Tam in April and I didn’t see her again until August. I spent that summer in Virginia. Upon my return, Sean and I began dating. We didn’t think much about how little time he was spending with his mom until she added a picture to MySpace captioned, “The reason I never see Sean anymore.” It was a picture of us.
I knew something had to change.
Sometime last fall we began visiting her at her apartment in Watervliet one night every couple of weeks. We’d have pizza and watch movies. These nights continued for about three or four months. We tried to visit as often as possible, but sometimes unfortunate Albany weather stood in our way. It was obvious that both Sean and his mom were disappointed when plans fell through. You see, from the first time I saw them interact I knew they had a very loving relationship. He made it known that she was his number one woman. He was her best friend. And I was OK with that.
Unfortunately circumstances began to unfold in early 2009. You might be aware of the situations, but if you’re not, all I’ll say is she was living back in Ravena by the time spring rolled around. So she was my next door neighbor now. I had moved away from my family in 2007 when I came to college. Our relationship was, and is, still strong, but my mom wasn’t physically present in my life like a mom generally is by no fault of her own. But Tam still filled that void in my life.
For Easter I went with her and Sean to visit her parents in Syracuse.Their house was so warm and welcoming -- I felt like family from the start. I’ve began to love Ma and Da as if they’re my own grandparents. And Ma, don’t worry about the sheets. And Da, I’ll send you updates on Sean -- don’t worry.
I remember giving Tammie flowers on her birthday and on Mother’s Day. They are only a couple weeks apart, but I had no one else I could give flowers to. Sean is great, but I don’t think he’s the flower type. I remembering cooking dinner for us and her helping me with the directions. I’ve never been much of a chef.
I remember weekends we’d just hang around the house and talk and gossip. We’re both girls after all! And I remember a week straight of helping her move out of her apartment. She had to be out by 12 AM on June 1. May 31 at 11:40 we shoved the last piece of furniture in her car and hit the road.
In mid-July I attended the most celebrated tradition in Tam’s family -- The Wellsville Balloon Rally -- a celebration they’ve been going to for years and years. Although situations arose that were less than ideal, I’m grateful that I was able to experience this with her and family.
The time after we returned from Wellsville was rocky. Tammie’s health was declining, though none of us knew what was wrong. Through it all, Sean proved dedicated to his mom. He brought her food and sometimes even hand-fed it to her. In early September he told me that he didn’t know how much longer he could deal with the situation. No one knew it was as bad as it really was. The day after Labor Day -- the 8th -- she was to attend a doctor’s appointment. From what I understand she was then instructed to go to the emergency room. She was admitted that night. No one knew she’d never be coming back home.
In the coming weeks she was diagnosed with cancer and was admitted to the hospice in Albany. Me, Sean, and Mike began visiting her in her room every day. We brought her whatever food or drink she wanted. It was painful watching her lie in her bed and ask to come home. What do you say to someone in a situation like that?
The weeks dragged and flew by at the same time. Her health was, what appeared to be, a roller coaster. Some days she sat up and carried on a conversation with everyone in the room and others she did little more than mumble “chocolate milk” -- something that didn’t change with her health.
September passed and October arrived. We had to renew our parking permit for the hospital garage. That was a good sign. Then we got to the heart of October. It was clear she was going downhill. The majority of conversation stopped and by the 20th or so was almost completely gone. And then the 25th came. It was just like any other day. I went to work in the afternoon. Sean went at night. And then she went. I wasn’t there, but I imagine it was peaceful and she looked beautiful the whole time. That was two weeks ago, today, and we’re all trying to get ourselves back on track.
To all her friends and family: I know it’ll never be the same. And to Tammie (Mom #2): I got your best friend now -- I’ll never let anything happen to him. I’ll keep him in my arms forever. Don’t worry.
Lindsay, I read this to my Mom and Dad and they had the same reaction that I did. They said it was beautiful!
ReplyDelete--Bill