Sunday Blues

To stay true to my initial intent with Team Tamera, the blog, the fundraising, the facebook group, all the memorabilia of my mother; revealing a little bit about myself and my journey throughout this is inevitable.  I had a long moment this evening contemplating how I could get away from this. How I could escape the memories, the ride, the cause and live without. I found myself suffocated by what is beginning, by simply what hurts as we humans experience grief. It has been almost 14 years now and the loss of a woman I rarely felt I knew that I call mother stings in a much deeper way now as I approach my late twenties. 

I cannot explain why at age 14 I thought it would be appropriate to make my sister Stacie walk with me in the New Jersey MS Walk or why when I was 23 I decided to apply for an internship at the Utah State Chapter or even now why I had an impulse and I ran with it; Team Tamera. My family rarely speaks of her especially my brothers and at times I feel like I have too. I have to capture her in the midst of our family gatherings or bring her to the forefront of my fathers memory so that I don't feel like it was all a dream. The weight of what was and who she was and is to our family sometimes feels like it sits on my shoulders and I just need to know that somebody else, one of my other siblings feel it too. 

We were raised to know that after this life we will meet her, sing, dance, play, talk...do what all parents and children do and sometimes I long for that moment to come sooner; so I have to do this. I have to be this team, I have to ask for memories, I have to feel that that time is now because I am human and I simply, truly, miss my mother..and in moments when I just don't feel like I can do this anymore, be present with team tamera and all that it implies I realize I would only be running and I can't let my family down, her family down, her friends down, and most of all her. 

It is strange when fear really does not seem to make sense in the equation but I feel it creep up every time I receive mail in my inbox indicating another memory. Fear of what it will remind me of. But as I reveal my personal struggle through this journey called team tamera I am truly humbled by the words shared, the memories exchanged and the simple peace this all gives me knowing that her memory continues to live on through all that had the pleasure of meeting her in good health and bad. 

So I thank each and everyone of you who reads this blog and shares their support for team tamera. It is in all the strength, the love, the support I have received that keeps me putting one foot in front of the other knowing that  she is ever present in all of us and our memories.

Memory by Julie Markham

The first Sunday our little family attended church in Morristown in 1980, my husband and Bruce caught a glimpse of each other. After the meeting, they stood face to face, thought for a second of why their faces looked familiar. Suddenly they both said, pointing at each other, “Elder!” They had known each other while missionaries in Japan, and that was the beginning of a long friendship between our two families. Even though your family lived in Mendham and we lived in Gillette, we occasionally got together and shared family home evenings. The first thing that struck me about Tamera was that she was such a pure, kind person. She was very interested in healthy foods and vitamins, and as I got to know her better she told me she had MS and needed to take good care of herself so she could raise her children. I was inspired. I wondered if it would take a serious diagnosis before I started taking better care of myself. I loved watching Tamera care for Amanda and helping her behave in church. Tamera obviously loved Amanda and was so kind and gentle with her.

Five years later, in 1985, as we were leaving Gillette, Tamera told me her doctor had recently told her that her disease was progressing and that within ten years she’d be in a wheelchair. I simply didn’t believe her. Her health was better than mine was. She was energetic, healthy, vivacious, and besides, she had six children! She would never be in a wheelchair. In 1994, our family moved back to the Morristown area. My first Sunday at church I was welcomed by women I had grown to love nine years earlier. Tamera was one who greeted me, but she did not run and give me a hug. I ran to give her a hug, as she was in the back of the chapel in a wheelchair. I was stunned. How could this have happened? At that point, the MS had progressed to the point that Tamera did not have control over what she said. It appeared to me that what she thought is what came out of her mouth. I, for one, am glad people don’t always know what I am thinking, but for Tamera, this did not seem to be a problem. In Sunday School, Tamera’s thoughts came out in the form of the kindest words, such as, “Now, that was a nice comment,” or, “Isn’t the teacher well-prepared today.” She was still a pure, kind person. By this time Amanda was an adult. It was she who sat next to her mother and cared for her, gently putting her finger to her lips and reminding her to be quiet.