September 29, 2010

My Guilty Pleasure

Dear Mom,

Over the past few years I have developed quite the list of guilty pleasures- like eating fresh strawberries complete with a mound of store-bought chocolate frosting twice their size, watching hours of DVR'd episodes of reality television (except Jersey Shore. I know they--whoever they are-- preach to 'never say never', but seriously: I. will. NEVER. watch that show.), and, of course, the Twilight Saga. Ohh Twilight. Unfortunately, you have missed this recent vampire phenomenon. I've even got Gisele hooked on it. Seriously, she read all 4 books (that are, keep in mind, like 700+ pages each) in about a week AND watched the two movies that were released. Quite impressive, I know. Anyway, I became seriously obsessed with the books, the movies, the characters, etc. I don't know how much you would like the whole vampire glistening in the sunshine/feeding on poor, innocent forest critters and humans thing, but the fact that Gisele has converted into a fanatic gives me some hope.

My other guilty pleasure, that I continue to mention, is Diary of a Dying Mom. It is what truly sparked my blogging adventure and gave me the drive to start writing again, so I feel forever indebted to Michelle.

It is a guilty pleasure for two reasons. One being that some people I have mentioned her blog to find it completely morbid that I enjoy reading about someone else's death (which I think it is hard to blame them for because these same people have not lost a parent and cannot possibly understand what I'm gaining from reading it). The other reason being that Michelle's blog literally provides me with a feeling of guilt and pleasure.

I feel this weird sense of guilt and sadness while I read it because I already know the outcome regardless of her hopeful posts and positive outlook. My heart breaks each time she writes that she is feeling better because I know the end is near, but she doesn't. Yet, I also find a sense of peace and pleasure from her every word. Whether it's a post about her children, death, or friendships, I find comfort in her thoughts. She is so candid and open when discussing her eventual death, but still, at the end of the day, looks for the positives. I feel like that is how you handled yourself (although more privately and not in blog-form). She is loving, motherly, funny, and sometimes admiringly inappropriate, and she continues to remind me of you in those ways and several others with each and every post.

As much as I love the blog, it poses one problem: like everything else, it ends. I just finished up reading the month of August, and I'm having a smidge of anxiety while I try to come to terms with the fact that her posts will stop in about a month and a half (which is approximately another week or two of reading material for me). I know it sounds silly because, outside the blogosphere, Michelle passed away several years ago, but in my tiny little bubble where Michelle speaks to me daily, I worry that it will feel like another death has occurred in my life. I'm eager to continue reading, however, a part of me wants to slow down to allow us, in a way, to have more time together. But I'm just dying to know (poor choice of words, perhaps, I guess I don't want to know that bad) what she has to say in her final months. What will her last post say? Will she ever find out what was shaking her bed at night?! Will she make it out to buy her children's final birthday gifts? Can she tell her body is shutting down?

Could you? I wish she'd slip that into an entry somewhere.

I predict that reading it will stir up some emotions that were once very familiar to me as the end of her life draws near. Whether that is a good or a bad thing, there's only one way to find out.

So tomorrow I will begin reading September's blog entries during my free time. Here goes nothing!

I love you,


  1. Samantha, I was very touched by reading your blog. I lost my mom a few years ago and I remeber back then wondering how was I supposed to feel. Everyone looked at me as the Strong One, tough motivated to carry on. But beneath the veneer I was falling apart. One day I started writing poetry, it wasn't the best but not the worst either. This was my catharsis

    Thanks for letting us peer in your window...

    Love Alli xx

  2. It definitely helps to have an outlet like this. I hope to read some of your poetry sometime if you're willing to share!

    Thanks Alli xo

  3. Hey Sami,

    Though you wrote this months ago now, I am just reading it as I am try to find my own words and wrestle with my own knot of grief. Just wanted to say thanks for sharing.