Why I Won't Play Tetris

if you can't watch the sun rise,
i'll watch it for you.
if you can't get on your feet,
i'll stand up tall.
if you want to feel the ocean,
i'll run through it.
you gave me life, the greatest gift of all.
if you can't say you love me,
i'll just know it.
if you can't take a breath,
i'll drink mine in.
if you can't fight the fight,
i'll find the will, mom.
i'll savor life, your greatest gift of all.

I wrote that for my mom two days before she died. I felt so strong -  yet so helpless - then. I was willing to do and to be whatever it took to help her carry on in this world (because she so wanted to live) and I was struggling to let her go to be free of pain. She was in so much pain. I had to look back in my timeline and find this poem to read it again...mostly to remember what I promised.

One of the hardest things to do so far is the "I'll just know it." I do know it, innately, that she loves/loved me. And it's heartbreaking that I can't hear her tell me.

I love my mom and I miss her so deeply my heart hurts. 

What's nice to notice is that I am savoring life. I recognize the importance of taking care of myself and modeling that for my own daughter because of the insurmountable obstacles that eventually cost my mother her life.

I liken the end of my mom's life, and maybe my own life, to that game called Tetris because for a while she was able to navigate easily despite a barrage of difficult decisions and laborious tasks, right? Especially in her last five years on earth. She'd avoid pile ups and think really quickly and find last-second fits to the constant puzzle that rained. She would hurry to the next uncommon thing to come down toward her and pray and pray and pray and try and try and try to make the right adjustments to get all the pieces where they needed to be.

But life was too fast. Her burdens were too many. Her health was too out of shape. And she died.

I don't want my end game to be a scramble for survival. I want to come to a successful end I can be content with and glad about. I want to grin at my final score and know I rocked life.

I promised to fight that fight up there in that poem, but I can't play my mother's game and win. I have to play something more rewarding....more slowly, methodically, strategically in all fairness to myself and everybody else.  I wish she could do this with me.

Follow-through: A sign of progress...

I have stocked the fridge with "go-to" foods so there is no reason to cruise out of here any morning for at least a week without bringing something breakfast-like along. I think my favorite so far is the butternut squash and pumpkin casserole I had a little of for lunch today. It is so good!

And so, already I've found that I want to zoom ahead and get stuff done, like be a size 8 by tomorrow; however, I know that kind of mentality isn't going to help me. That gung-ho woman at the start of this blog? She's not good for real results over a long period of time. I'm slowing down. I'm being more conscious. I'm making room for things I must.

It never ceases to amaze me that the world works in your favor when you choose a healthy option for your life. For instance, I decided this slow and steady approach to weight loss (pick a habit, make it my bitch, pick a new habit and so on) and along comes Suzanne, who I have followed for quite a while on twitter, and with a tweet that introduces me to Christine Hohlbaum, whose book is about finding ways to make change more like a permanent thing. So, yes, I am buying her book and yes, I am going to get in touch with her.

I am so going to take this introduction as proof of my readiness to employ this approach. I hope I don't bore you with my slug-like movement.