"Hormones" is a Four Letter Word

When Pam was pregnant with Stephanie (I think?) my mom and I used to visit her during the day over at their apartment in Jefferson Valley. All of the apartments in this complex had orange doors, and Pam had decided that theirs needed a paint job. So one day when we pulled in for a visit, there she was, big belly, bathrobe and slippers, orange paint, and a big mess. There was paint on the carpet (the door opened inward), and bugs stuck in the wet paint on the door. Pam was crying. Okay, so I was just an obnoxious teenager....it was all I could do not to laugh. It was just so TRAGIC, but really it was not that big of a deal.

For years I kept that picture in my head, not really understanding what it was all about...until I got pregnant. I was just 8 or 9 weeks along with Emma when Pam and the family came out to Michigan for a summer visit. We were going at it full speed, driving all over, making the most of the week. I was having fun, but it was dampened quite a bit by nausea, fatigue, and general grumpiness. One day when we were shopping for lunch supplies, I was wandering up and down the aisles, not able to find anything I thought I could stomach. On the verge of tears, I came around the corner and bumped into Pam. She looked at me and said, "You know, mornings are not your best time." Now, at the moment, I didn't make the connection...if I had, I might not have said, "Thank you for that information!" and walked away in a snit. I really hurt her feelings.

Later on, I apologized and blamed it on the hormones. We laughed about how surreal it is to be pregnant, and how everything seems so out of proportion with reality. Over the course of the next few months, she got nearly daily phone calls from me, as I walked a mile in her orange-paint-stained slippers.

Found it.

While looking for old camp pictures, I came across the poem my sister wrote for me. Here's a piece of advice...if you want someone to REALLY KNOW that you love them, write them a poem.

Knotty Love

One of Pam's great life obsessions was hair...her own and everyone else's. One of my earliest memories of her is when she would wash my hair in the bathroom sink. I had to stand on a little step-stool, so I was probably around 4 years old. We had a whole system where I would turn my head to the left (I could see the shower curtain) and the right (I could see the fake plants on the counter)...then at the end she would rinse my hair with cold water, because she said it would make it shiny. She also taught me to pull a few strands through my fingers to see if it squeaked...if it did, the soap was all out.

She was always trying to brush my hair, too. She once told me that when I was a baby, I had to have this lotion rubbed into my hair to treat a scalp condition. It was oily and it ruined the way my hair looked...she said it made her so upset that she cried. That was Pam. Anything that got in the way of a good hair day was a tragedy.

One of the only fights I can remember having with her was when she insisted on brushing out some knots, and I didn't want her to do it. I was about 8. She kept brushing even through my protests, and pulled the brush so hard that it actually hurt. I ran to my room crying and screaming at her. She followed me, of course, and made up for it in a matter of minutes. She put on a record and we made up a dance routine in the living room. At least I knew that my sister would always love me, even if my hair wasn't perfect.

I bumped into St. Francis of Assisi.

St. Francis of Assisi was on the front of my mother's prayer card. St. Franny was the Patron Saint of Animals, and mommy was pretty much his understudy. Walking to Madison Square Garden, on a random side street, I passed this church.

Random. Sweet. Fitting. All Are Welcome.

Time with Pam

A very close friend of mine, Carol, is very ill in North Carolina. I wish that I could be there to help with her children and to sit with her at this very difficult time. When Pam was diagnosed with Stage 4 ovarian cancer, I knew the time was going to be short. So I decided that I would spend as much time with her as I could. I tried to get up there once a week. I would go up mid morning and stay till dinner. Pam sometimes (in the beginning) said that I must have better things to do than to sit with her all day. I said that spending time with her was very relaxing and peaceful for me and I enjoyed her company. I also knoew that if I wasn't seeing Pam, I would be running around doing stuff that, in the end, doesn't really matter. My time with Pam was (given the circumstances) very enjoyable. One day we watched a show about buying wedding dresses, which led us into talking about getting ours. Then Pam disappeared out of the bedroom and came back in with her wedding dress, to show me how beautiful it was. She said "Do you think Steph would ever wear it?" Being the totally honest person that I am, I said with a little updating, it would be great. That made her very happy. Pam's favorite show was "Jon and Kate + 8". We watched and marveled at how Kate could handle 8 children and still seem so organized. Pam would talk about how much work it was to raise 3 children. Pam seemed to like shows about real people in real situations, she always was sympathetic to people with problems. I think it took her mind off her own issues. Pam also always made sure that there was a good dessert to have in mid-afternoon. We had ice cream, brownies, chocolate cake.. delicious!
As time went on, the conversations got more serious and teary, but still good. I am blessed to have spent the days I did with Pammie. I have learned how important it is to be there when things are good and when things are not.