So I went on my annual vacation to Rehoboth Beach this year and it was a roller coaster of emotion.  Many things have changed in my life since my visit in August of last year.  The biggest of those being the loss of my Mom.  I debated on going or staying home.  What would people think of me out having a good time so soon?  But then I thought...Mom knew how much I loved the beach and how I always looked forward to my vacation every year, so I went.

On my birthday, I walked out onto the beach at dawn and watched the sunrise for the very first time since I started going to Rehoboth.  It was breathtaking and I could feel my Mom right there with me...it was indescribable.  I spent my days walking around town and laying on the beach just soaking it all in.  I didn't go to Poodle Beach this year as in all of the years past, instead I headed up to the less crowded, less "A List" North Shores...a welcome change from being surrounded by speedos and wannabe Ken dolls.

During one of my walks along the beach, I noticed a Mother with her young son.  She was taking him out to the water's edge and every time a wave crashed onto the shore, he'd run back into his Mother's arms screaming and crying...in fear of the angry ocean.  She would hug him and assure him that it was okay, and he would toddle back towards the water until the next wave came in.  Again, he would run and scream.  This happened a few times and each time I watched her calm her son and with her looking on, he'd sheepishly walk out and hurry back.  Then, I overheard something that literally brought me to tears.  The Mother took her son by the hand and walked with him to the water and told him..."Your Nana used to bring me here all the time.  She loved the ocean so much.  There's nothing to be afraid of...each time the waves gather at your feet, that's Nana coming in to say hello and she's giving you a kiss."  And with that, the little boy walked out to the water and finally dipped his toes in.  This time he didn't run away and cry.  He stood there and giggled...he waved out into the ocean and said "Hi Nana!"  It hit me so hard that it took my breath away.

So, I too walked out to the water and stood there letting the waves gather around me.  Each time, I felt my Mom and I whispered "Hi Mom."

I miss her so much that there are times it physically hurts.  There are times that it doesn't seem real to me, that she can't really be gone.  I miss both of my parents.  They were my safety, my home...but I know they will always be with me...and each time I visit the ocean, I will take time to walk out into the water, say hello and feel them both at my side.

Alan Guthridge 10/14/1945 - 10/22/2012
Cindy Guthridge 11/1/1953 - 7/19/2015

I'm a little behind on my writing.  I find it frustrating at times...trying to get all of my racing thoughts organized enough to put into words.  I sat here several times and just stared at the screen.  Nothing.  But some things have started from nothing and mine starts now.

A few weeks ago, I lost my Mom and it was very sudden...I was just talking with her that morning.  It was our usual back and forth about our night, the dogs, nothing important really, just talking.  By that afternoon she was gone.

My whole world changed that day.  I always said that losing my Mother would be the one thing that would do me in.  I really felt losing her would mean I'd need to be locked away for awhile, that I would just fall into a big pile of nothing.  I feared it...and two weeks ago my fear became reality.  But that reality wasn't what I thought it would be.  I didn't get hauled off to a padded room.  I didn't fall into a big pile of nothing.  I'm not really sure what I felt at the time...I don't remember too much.  I remember being in the pool and then getting the call.  I don't remember the drive to the hospital, but I remember running to the emergency room doors and seeing Don...and there was a lady with him.  She took me by the arm and lead me down a hallway...away from everyone.  I knew.  I knew something was terribly wrong.  She wanted me to go into a room, a "comfort room" they call it...a room where doctors deliver bad news.  I wouldn't go in.  I knew going into that room would mean I would have to hear what I refusing to believe.  I kept asking to see her.  I kept asking where she was.  Finally, the lady, who was the  hospital Chaplin, went to get the doctor.  The news was swift..."your Mother suffered a massive heart attack.  We did everything we could...".  That's all I remember.
The next thing I know, I was in a room alone with my Mom.  I sat by her side, held her hand, talked to her for awhile, the nurse handed me her rings, I kissed her forehead, told her I loved her...and I left.
The next few days were a blur.  I wasn't sure which way to turn, what was up or down, but what I was sure of was the fact that I refused to fall apart.  I asked so many people so many times "What am I going to do now?"  Nobody had that answer.  They would just hug me and tell me that I was going to be okay, things will get better in time.  All the usual stuff people say when someone dies and they don't know what else to say.

For the most part I am okay.  I miss my Mom terribly and there are times I find myself reaching for my phone to text her a picture of the dogs doing something cute or to ask her how she's feeling.  Then it hits me and those are the times I'm not okay.  Those are the times I completely break down...the times I sit and ask why.  I'm still working through the loss of my Dad which will be three years this October.  I fell into a very deep depression after his passing, but I refuse to go back.  I miss him everyday, but in my final words to him in the hospital, I promised him that I would take care of Mom, that we would be fine and that it was okay to go.  I never got that chance with Mom.  I didn't get to hold her hand and say goodbye.  I didn't get to tell her that it was okay.  She always worried about me and how I was handling Dad's passing and I often find myself wondering...was she scared?  Was she worried about what would happen to me?  Where was I?  Why wasn't I there?  Did she even know what was happening to her?

I wasn't there because I wasn't supposed to be.  I honestly think if I had been, I wouldn't have made it.  Somehow I feel as if I was being protected.  Maybe it was her still looking after me.  Maybe it was Dad trying to shield me from the hurt.  Maybe it was God who knows my struggles and knows just how much I can handle.

I'm making good on my promise to Dad.  I took care of Mom as best I could...I'm taking care of what needs taken care of and handling things as best as I know how. I'm holding it together...for now.  That's all I can really do, all any of us can do is focus on now.  Today.  This minute.  This second.  Right now.  Spending time in the past doesn't do any good because we can't change it.  Worrying about the future is pointless because we can't predict it.  The best thing we can do is stay in the present...at least that's the best thing I can do for me and that's the best advice I can give anyone going through something like this.  One day at time, one foot in front of the other.  Now.