What DO you say?

Dear Mom, 

A post from our dear Mrs. Thul sparked inspiration for this post. Some things that I am about to mention I have already ranted about before, but I figured I would put it all together in one little educational schpeel. 

When people go through a tragedy or loss, most of the time, the people around them are at a loss of what to say. They are in their best interest, and all they want is for their hurting friend to feel better. Still, sometimes the wrong words come out. Some people have straight up said to me "I'm sorry your mom died," without even trying to pretty up the words in the slightest. Although that's not as bad as when people don't know, and ask "Hey, how's your Mom doing." That hasn't happened in awhile, thankfully. Sheesh, I don't know what I would do if that happened now. 
Anyway, I wanted to make a post to shed a light on what it is like to be that person who is going through great loss, and give a list of do's and don't's when interacting with that person. 


1. First and foremost. DO NOT say "stay strong." First off all, who says that I'm strong? Would I really be strong after going through the hardest time in my life? The answer is no. Second of all, who are you to tell me how I should and should not grieve? This is MY time. I will grieve however I need to. I do not need to be strong; I am allowed to break down, cry, or put a smile on my face. Whatever I need to do in that very moment, is my choice. Maybe not a choice per-say, but it's more of my choice than it is your's.  

2. It's okay to talk about the person. Tell stories. Remind us of the good things. Sometimes we get stuck on a few memories and thoughts that we forget other memories about them. We want to remember, so please help us do that. 

3. Random acts of kindness mean the world. A call, text, a hug. Checking in and showing that you love and care about them will remind us that we are not alone. 

4. Let us vent. I know for me, it was hard for me to open up about my grieving. So I was very appreciative of anyone who was willing to listen at the few times I was ready to share how I was feeling. Sometimes it's hard for me to remember that people still care. Sometimes I feel that my grief is irrelevant. So please remind us that you are a friend who will listen. 

5. Although we appreciate being reached out to, there's a time and a place. When I'm at Target trying to pick up a few things, the last thing I need is a sympathy speech that's 5 minutes long in the most public place in Hollister. The first couple months after Mom died, I avoided going to the store at all costs. If I was out in public, it was like I had "the girl who's mom died" written across our forehead. So please, help us feel normal. We really don't know what normal is, but please help us get there. 

6. Think before you speak. This isn't some sort of contest of who's grief is worse. When you bring up my Mom passing away, don't bring up your cat dying in the same conversation.  I mean, come on. 

7. Be sensitive to your audience. Although bible verses may help many people through grief, they may be a slap in the face to someone else. Do not assume that I agree with your religious views. I have the right to my own personal opinion. When I'm grieving over my only parent, your attempts to convert me are just aggravating. "She's in a better place now" is hard for someone to understand when her mother was taken away so suddenly. Maybe if she had been sick for months and months these would be easier words to hear, but in my situation, they were nearly hurtful. 



Above all, show us love. Show us that life goes on, and that our lives matter. That although things will be different from now on, that there are other things to look forward to. Remind us that your door is open if we need to talk, but remember that you may need to reach out to us personally regardless. It's really hard to ask for help when your life turns upside down. Your feelings constantly feel like a burden. So remind us that we are not a burden. That we are worth being cared for.






This post is 5 years overdue but I hope it reaches people who need it; whether is helps you today or in the future.
I love you Mom. Forever and ever.



               Love your babydoll, 
               Tessy Loo Loo

What is Relay?

Dear Mom,

I can't believe it's already July. Where did the first half of my summer go? Time has flown by, and it's hard to believe that Relay for Life is just around the corner. 

I realize, though, that every year that I post about Relay for Life, that not everyone may know what it is. So I decided to dedicate a post to explaining what the heck it is that Team Janet raises money for every year. 

4 million people. 600 events. 20 countries. Relay for Life is an international event with one common goal: to raise money to fight cancer, and to unite people with hope. Hope to find a cure against this terrible disease. 

Relay for Life is a 24 hour community walking event where teams camp out on a track, enjoy live entertainment, do on-site fundraising, and unite together for our common cause. Teams can fundraise year-round to raise even more money for the American Cancer Society. Each team makes a booth that goes with the overall theme, and does onsite fundraising and educational display for a specific type of cancer. One member of each team must be on the track at all times, so that for 24 hours each team is "Relaying for Life." It's an event that people look forward to every year. 

During the Relay event, there are different ceremonies that make the event extra special. At the end of opening ceremonies is the survivor lap, where people have fought or are currently fighting their battle of cancer do the first lap around the track. It is an emotional reminder of why we are all here; to make sure less people are affected by this disease. It also serves as a victory lap for the strong individuals who have kicked cancer's butt!

After dark is the luminaria ceremony, where we honor those who are fighting their battles, and remember those loved ones we have lost. Around the track are paper bags with lit candles, personalized with all of the individuals we are honoring. Hollister's Relay does a fantastic job of putting together an emotional performance before the entire relay comes together and walks around the track. 

Lastly, there is the fight back ceremony, aka closing ceremonies. This ceremony's purpose is to inspire people to take action, and fight back back against this terrible disease. We remind ourselves why we are here, and that we each made a commitment to continue to fight against cancer. This fight is continuing, all year around. I had the honor and pleasure of speaking at last year's fight back ceremony in Hollister, and again in Seaside. You can watch or read my speech here: 

http://loveyourbabydoll.blogspot.com/2013/08/so-magical.html

There are so many things that make Relay so magical. But most of all, it just really brings the community together. Even though it is so devastating what cancer has done to so many of our lives, we can all fight back by coming together in remembrance, hope, and strength. Our little town Hollister has one of the best Relay events that I have had the pleasure of attending. It is one of my favorite times of the year, and it will always be a part of me. 

Since 2009, my friends and family have put together a team in memory of my mom. Last year, Team Janet had the pleasure of receiving the Bob Johnson Memorial award, because of the part we have taken in the fight against cancer. It always brings me great joy to see my team come together in honor of the woman we all love and miss. 

That's Relay for Life, in a nutshell. If you're reading this and want to participate in this event, just let me know! We always welcome new team members. If you would like to donate to our team or dedicate a luminaria bag, just go to my relay profile online: http://main.acsevents.org/goto/tessykelly

Love you mom. Miss you every day. 

                Love your baby doll, 

                Tessy Loo Loo 

Five.

Dear Mom,

5 minutes before. 
 I'm holding your hand, ever so gently. Wanting this moment to last forever, yet wanting you to be rid of this pain. Thinking of good memories while trying to look past your sickly appearance. Knowing well that you deserve to be free, that this is not where you should be. Rubbing your hand, wiping your face. Telling you that I will be okay.

5 minutes after
 Tears keep coming. Everything's spinning. Nothing is real. Surrounded by many, yet feeling alone. Shaking.What will I do? It's always been me and her. Her and me. Where will I go? How do I live without her? Sobbing, sobbing. I want to go back. I wish I had been nicer this week. I want to hug her. Feel her. Have her with me and tell me she's not really going. Why did she have to go? Did I do something wrong? This is a dream. This happened to fast, it can't be real. I never thought this could happen. Can't imagine filling the hole that is lost. Please let me wake up from this nightmare.

5 hours later
 Finally in bed, drifting to sleep. Laying next to my Laura, who has been a trouper for me. Not knowing what's going to happen next, but knowing that at least, right now, I am safe.

5 days later
 Not enough seats in the funeral home, standing room only. Slideshow of memories. Empty urn, our little secret about the ashes not getting there in time. Plenty of tears, and smiles to go around. Friends singing. Really feeling in my heart that you say it best when you say nothing at all. So many people sharing a part of themselves, the part they shared with you. People stare, watching me go up. Shaking. I speak, hardly looking at my notes, because it's hard to narrow down exactly what to say about you. You weren't just the master of sewing, or pedro. You were more than just the permanent stage mom, or parent club member. And believe it or not, you were more than just George Strait's biggest fan. You were you. You were my mom. Words can't describe our relationship, no matter how hard I try. People knew we were each other's everything. Looking around, I see how many people you touched. And it let's me know that they are there for me.

5 weeks later
Wishing you were here for my first prom. Wanting you here to help me get ready. Imagining you sitting on the couch crying, seeing your little girl. I push through it. Spend an entire day leaving behind my world of despair. For a moment, I am happy.

5 months later
Mr. Peters tells us to write an eyewitness story. Something you've experienced that you feel you can share. Looking at me, he says that this doesn't have to get too personal. Challenge accepted. Barely stayed within the 5 page maximum. Writing about that night was nothing less than therapeutic. Turning it in, I feel accomplished. Here is a keepsake of what happened. My last moments with her.

5 years later. 
Less than 4 hours until the exact moment I dread every year. Many tears came with writing this post, because it's so baffling how much time has passed. Every year, it's like saying goodbye all over again. 1, 2, 3, 4, now 5. Look how much has changed in 5 years. What would you do if you were here with me now? Would it be the same? It's funny thinking about back then, about every fight we had in the car because we could never hear each other on our deaf sides. How you stole the Freak Friday punishment by not letting me close my door one time when I was bad. Things that seemed so important and aggravating at the time, and now they just seem stupid. And funny.
Not sure how tomorrow will go, or tonight when I check the time in the middle of the night. But I do know, that no matter what day it is, you are always here, watching over me. Loving me, laughing with me, being here. I wish you could share my life with me, meet all my new friends, and be with me as I continue to struggle through college. It's not the same without you, and it's frightening.

But one day, we will reunite, in that Big Musical in the sky. And it will be the best welcoming imaginable. We'll be dancing along the night of day, and head on down to the milky way.




                 Love your babydoll,
                 Tessy Loo Loo