Friday, September 14, 2012
I started to lay out everything I needed for the morning and went to the website for some last minute advice. For the first time I saw the layout of the course and a synopsis of the obstacles. I must admit for a moment I started to have doubts about my abilities to face this task.
I have been preparing myself for some time now. While most would think of a regimen that included good nutrition, strength and agility training with cardio and endurance-my preparation included all of the above but the emphasis was on so much more.
For me this quest is not so much a physical journey as it is an emotional or a spiritual one. For me it marks a choice. One of a return to life. I want to feel again.
We all know about our bodies defense mechanisms and the “fight or flight” mode that takes over to protect us. Almost 10 years ago when tragedy struck survival was absolutely dependent on my ability to stand tall and grounded. I learned very early on that meant you needed a force field to protect your vulnerable layers of emotions. With time I learned you could still feel joy and happiness, it was just always detached-it never reached the core-it didn’t penetrate or go all the way through. As sad as that sounds it was absolutely necessary because it also meant that the shearing pain and unbearable sadness as heavy as it was also didn’t go all the way through. But half of something is still half.
Over time with lots of reflection about building the best life for my family and for myself I know the best way to honor Tori is for us to truly live fully and in the moment. And I realized that mostly from something Tori herself said when she was just 10 years old and excited to be on her first major National karate trip.
We were at the Arizona Biltmore in Phoenix. It was hot and Tori and I stepped out the patio doors. I was standing in the middle of the balcony and she had her back pressed against the outside cinderblock walls. I said, “Tori come next to me because if you stand here you can really feel how hot it is”. Tori disagreed saying you can’t really feel if you walk in and out. She said the walls were hotter because they stayed-because they were there all the time. I asked her what made her think she was right and Tori responded, “Mom, the only way you can really feel is if you’re present”.
It’s time to be present for all of it – to feel it all the way through. I have a hunch there’s no way I can avoid feeling anything about tomorrow. Here goes nothing……
Monday, August 27, 2012
Several weeks ago I sat with a mom of another young woman altered forever many years ago by an assault on her brain. We spoke for hours. She said something that first shocked and then halted me….It has taken me as many weeks to process and to come to terms with some of our conversation. Mind you…it was not her words but my own fears that I needed to reconcile.
I rarely even think of her life before the woman said. “It’s as if the only life I’ve known with her is the one we know now” she continued. And I thought to myself,…how dare she not remember her daughter’s life before, how dare she not hang on….when in reality…how dare I dare, to know,,, or think to know,,, what this woman should or should not do…..I am not her…I am not her life. Yes, we may be similar in that we are both mothers with daughters no longer living the life we once thought they would live. Yes, we may be similar in that we both have a child we always assumed we would share a particular type of relationship with at a certain age. Same – but different.
And so I reflected on me…and what I thought – and while I was not yet ready to honestly address some aspects of a perceived then and now relationship – what I was able to look at is my then and now role in terms of plans and dreams for my daughter.
What I was then and what I still am now is a mother who has plans and dreams for her child. While Toris life has been changed and those dreams have been forced to change – we are not left without life and therefore not left without hope or the opportunity to dream. And so my plans and dreams for my child and her altered life have changed.
I have dreams that she live her life to the fullest and to be happy. A bit modified perhaps than the plans and dreams I had for my child before…but when you truly break it down…same…,but different
My mother told the greatest stories. She was so animated as we would be rolling on the floor listening to the misadventures of her youth. She could be incredibly silly, break out in tiny little character voices or be in great big full voice in song. She could also be incredibly firm and didn’t earn the nickname Big Rit’ for nothing.
Her heart and the random acts of kindness to people who had previously been strangers was as full as her prayer box – all intentions some of those same people would send along asking for her prayers. The rosary was said on her Mothers beads-very special beads that were called upon in times of great need. Those beads have now passed into my hands.
She was really talented. She could play the Hawaiian steel guitar in a way like no other, she would give any schooled event planner a run for their money and Rita Mobley was an original when it came to writing jingles. She could do wonders with ground beef and was so good at mixing up hand me down clothes years later we would marvel when looking at school pictures how a single shirt could seamlessly travel from sibling to sibling school year to school year and never quite look the same.
Today marks 3 years since she passed. Sometimes it seems like yesterday. Sometimes it seems a hundred years ago. I remember at her funeral mass while giving her eulogy saying growing up our house was always full-of laughter, of energy. I felt there should be a sign out front that said:
MOBLEY RESIDENCE, ENTERTAINMENT NIGHTLY, ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK
I can tell you – it would have been worth the risk. We had a lot of fun – we have a lot of memories. When I look at my brother and my sisters, even my children or nieces and nephews…I see pieces of my mother and we all carry her with us still. In our hearts, in our minds, in our spirit and in the legacy she left us to carry on. Rita Marie Tanzi Mobley – May 22, 1938 – July 28, 2009. My mother had a lot of DASH between those years.
Don’t waste a moment. Make the most of everything you’ve got-because someday it might be the only thing, the most important thing, someone has to remember you by.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Day #1 is in the can. Day #2 is not far behind. Tori is participating in Phase II of a Restoration of Consciousness Drug Trial. She was accepted into the study in February and completed Phase I, Caregiver Observation in April.
Each Phase is based on two days of observation after the administration of a drug. One day you are given a live agent and one day you are given a placebo. Only the Institution of Record is aware which is the actual drug. The belief is that only a small % of the population responds or awakens under this drug. Apparently the belief is Tori did or we would not have been invited to Phase II, Clinician Observation.
Braintree Hospital is a participating institution through Boston University. Should Tori “pass” this Phase as well, we will move on to the University of Philadelphia or Weill Cornell Medical College for further study. It was a long day and sometimes grueling but as always she was a trooper.
Life as you know it can change in a moment. We have searched far and wide, done our homework, turned over every stone and looked underneath, made sure that first we did no harm – we are ready for a change in a new direction. As Tori would always say when staring into the eye of a certain competitor…..Bring it!
Monday, March 26, 2012
3.26.03…today marks 9 years since life as we knew it changed forever…in honor of Tori, her indomitable spirit and an effort to continue to help her make a change in the world please take the Winds of Change pledge or vist and like the Tori Lynn Andreozzi Facebook page.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Sitting bedside with my daughter, my eyes gravitate to a shelf near her bed. It houses a card given to her by a wonderful woman. Inside the card is filled with words of inspiration. Outside, there is just one word. Believe.
And in these quiet moments, I sit, I read and I declare. I believe that with life there is hope. I believe that all things are possible and that God answers all prayers. I believe that life is not fair, nor that it was ever intended to be. I believe a touch, a word, a glance can transform and I believe one person can make a difference. Blessings to all who have.
Friday, December 09, 2011
On my mother’s last Christmas she and my father gave Tori the most incredible gift. It was a letter that detailed a month long list of acts of kindness and donations, all Tori’s favorites, and all made in her name. St Jude’s Hospital, animal shelters, Salvation Army buckets, trips to Benny’s to buy Toys for Tots, adopted families and food banks all received gifts in her name. And, a hard working unsuspecting Stop n Shop clerk was given a bouquet of flowers. So easy to see where Tori got her generous spirit. Tis the season of giving. Merry Christmas to all.
Monday, November 14, 2011
While all brain injuries are not created equal all people are. Hopefully one day the necessary intensive, aggressive therapy will be available to all to improve their chances of recovery.
Mark and Gabby Kelly are incredible examples of what the power of love and persistence, coupled with medical and divine intervention can accomplish. They are a beacon of hope.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
A very emotional day has come to a close. Tears outweighed the smiles as I reflected on how different things could and should have been but for the choice of one. Choices we make as individuals have far reaching consequences so far beyond ourselves. Our choice is to treasure each moment and be grateful for all of our blessings. Blessings which include so many loving and caring friends and family.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
We had an unsettling experience at Ann & Hope today. Shoppers couldn’t create enough distance and the divide was palpable as we struggled through. Outside, I turned to look at my daughter-eyes closed, faced turned to the sun absorbing its warmth, a cheshire cat grin on her face, the fatigue and frustration melted away. I was filled with the beauty of the day and the girl. Moral of the story-DO NOT let the moments that don’t matter linger and remember to let the moments that matter last.
