These Things I Miss of My Mom

These Things I Miss of My Mom:

I miss her. I miss her laugh. I miss her because she made me laugh.

I can't believe more than 3 years have gone. I can't believe I have made it this long without her calling, texting and sending care packages. She used to celebrate nearly every single holiday... if not just to satisfy a Dollar Store shopping habit, she also loved to shower her affection on her kids and grandkids.

I miss the bliss of ignorance, like thinking, "Sure, this Cancer thing will pass."
To think some higher power would appeal to the fact that she was such a great person and didn't deserve to go this way. I miss having my mom just a phone call away.

I miss the way she made me feel like the most special person there was to her.I never understood how she always made me feel that way. But she did. And I know she did that with a lot of people.

It is almost inconceivable to imagine the amount of people she cared for, remembered, connected with and continued to stay in contact with throughout her life. In addition to her children, grandchildren and an ex-husband, those contacts also included: High School age family and friends; extended family (down to the great nieces and nephews); people who were neighbors when we lived on Lakewood Dr in Provo, UT (when I was born in 1982); patients she worked with as a Home Health Nurse from in the 90's; parents of and the children she cared for during the late 90's and early 2000's (and beyond); ex-wives of her ex-husband's; a gal she bonded with at the gym; and the list could go on and on.

I know about these people, because she talked about these people. She talked with these people every chance she could. She was so great at reaching out (and not just being reachable). She was a gemstone among the rubble. She was always perceived as before, but is now truly, my Guardian Angel.

I love you, mom.

Cynthia Lou Saliby VanWagenen,
March 21, 1956 - January 22, 2016

Transitions, they can be painful

Ok. Wow. So I renamed this blog "A Mission in Transition" in October 2017. Drafted a couple of posts between now and then, but never published them. The meaning of this name, however, has eluded me until now.

Since 2003, Nate Cummings and I have had such an amazing life together. We traveled to Catalina Island, Mexico, Jamaica and Belize together. We created an incredible daughter together, who surprises me every day. She shows such intense empathy and expresses her feelings in appropriate ways. It is indescribable how it feels to have had a hand in molding such an impressive human.

My husband and father of my daughter, Nate Cummings, passed away unexpectedly on December 5, 2018. Just 10 days from his 38th birthday. His death has been attributed to heart failure, although he had zero signs or symptoms up until his final moments. He was a heavy cigarette smoker, which I am sure did not help combat these heart issues.

I have been completely devastated by his loss. Most days I could just lay on my back and stare at the ceiling for hours before realizing I should probably be doing something else. I cry every day. I miss him every day. I still want to be here for my daughter, but not sure what I would be thinking without her existence.

This stuff is hard. This stuff sucks. I am not sure how to educate or advise another about how to deal with this kind of loss. It is the most terrible thing I could ever imagine. And I don't think anyone should be able to imagine this tragedy.

So here begins this ultimate "Mission in Transition" because I am not really sure where to go from here.