Mama's Memorial & Expenses
Donation protected
[ Nothing could have prepared me for the news I received on March 30, 2017 at 2:41pm. Nothing could have prepared me for any of it. ]
Oh my beautifully, broken mother...
Where do I begin? How do I begin?
From the beginning or from the end?
Honestly, I'm not sure there is a right way to begin, so I will just start with the notebook and pen I have laying next to me.
This notebook and pen have equally been both my enemy and my friend. Helping me to organize my thoughts while simultaneously exploiting the harshness of my reality.
In this notebook you will find phone numbers of detectives, medical examiners, and lawyers and an itemized list of bills including (but not limited to) the funeral home, "Bio Scene Clean Up," and airfare.
You will find a diagram of how I'd like to set up my mother's memorial service and a list of all the things she loved.
You will find a very long "to do" list and a list of things still unknown. You will find a list of people who plan to attend her service and a list of all the things I've done.
You will find a sense of organized chaos; a kind of beautiful mess, I guess. Which now defines the pages of this notebook and the life my mother left.
Growing up, it was always grandma, mom and me. We did everything together. "The three musketeers" we called ourselves, but in my eyes, they were the real heros.
I remember my lively and determined single mother putting herself through nursing school. And I can still hear her voice singing "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…” to me as she got ready for work each morning.
I remember that even on her most tired days, she still managed to either coach my cheerleading team, help me make campaign posters for student counsel, film my friends and I pretending to be the “Spice Girls,” or clean the gymnastics facility I went to in order to help pay for tuition.
My mother was unstoppable. She was beautiful, smart, sensitive, caring, passionate, creative, and the life of every party. She was someone to be admired.
Nevertheless, like everyone else, she had her demons. Demons that forced me to grow up very quickly. Demons that often put me in the role of mother. Demons she eventually defeated.
Demons, however, that would ill compare to those that would reappear following the death of my grandmother in 2008.
Tormented by grief, my mother's life took a dramatic turn for the worst. This once motivated and inspiring woman I once knew no longer existed. She lost everything. She lost herself.
With fear of losing her to these demons, I staged an “intervention” and convinced her to go to rehab.
However, unable to keep her word and unable to finish rehab, I decided to distance myself from my mother completely. I could not live like that anymore. I could not live another day worrying. I could no longer be the mother of my mother.
A few years would pass like this before my mother would start making noticeable changes. She wasn’t completely herself again, but little by little she was carving a new path for herself. She became clean, she held a couple jobs, and she even made a couple decent friends.
In light of these positive changes, my mother and I finally began to rebuild the foundations of our relationship. Little by little, I started to feel as though I was maybe getting my mother back.
Nevertheless, the merciless truth of her new reality created struggles vastly unfamiliar to her. In the wake of losing her nursing license, she struggled to keep these everyday jobs and often struggled with being hired at all. This in turn created a huge financial burden, which thrusted her into a deep depression.
To offer her a little light at the end of the tunnel, I arranged a trip home to Florida this June (as I now currently live in Europe). A trip we excitedly spoke about on the phone on March 12, 2017.
One week after our phone conversation on March 12, 2017, I attempted to contact my mother. Although, not completely unusual for her, she did not respond. So I let another week pass before trying again. However, again, another failed attempt.
[ March 30, 2017: “Summer! Please answer your phone! Your mother was found last night. I’m so sorry.” ]
My life was changed forever.
Had I known in February that the flight I was booking for June would inevitably be a trip to collect my mothers ashes, I would have booked a flight that night.
What happened? I know that she was struggling, but she seemed to be okay. She knew I was coming home to see her soon. We were finally making progress. What happened?
[ April 2, 2017: I flew from Belgium to Florida ]
[ April 2, 2017 - April 8, 2017: During my time in Florida, I would discover a sense of organized chaos; a kind of beautiful mess, I guess. Which now defines the pages of my notebook and the life my mother left. ]
Tragically taken with many questions still unanswered and a cause of death still “pending,” my mother left no will and very little money to help with all the expenses that have surrounded, and continue to surround, her death.
So it is with a heavy and humbled heart that I, her only child, reach out to you today to say… I need help.
Please help me tie up her loose ends and send her off in the most beautiful, peaceful way. Without a struggle. Without a fight. For we know she suffered enough.
Her Memorial Service is scheduled to be held on June 17, 2017 on the beaches of Florida.
With All My Heart,
Summer Hubbard, the loving daughter of Annemarie Hubbard
[Updates to follow]
Oh my beautifully, broken mother...
Where do I begin? How do I begin?
From the beginning or from the end?
Honestly, I'm not sure there is a right way to begin, so I will just start with the notebook and pen I have laying next to me.
This notebook and pen have equally been both my enemy and my friend. Helping me to organize my thoughts while simultaneously exploiting the harshness of my reality.
In this notebook you will find phone numbers of detectives, medical examiners, and lawyers and an itemized list of bills including (but not limited to) the funeral home, "Bio Scene Clean Up," and airfare.
You will find a diagram of how I'd like to set up my mother's memorial service and a list of all the things she loved.
You will find a very long "to do" list and a list of things still unknown. You will find a list of people who plan to attend her service and a list of all the things I've done.
You will find a sense of organized chaos; a kind of beautiful mess, I guess. Which now defines the pages of this notebook and the life my mother left.
Growing up, it was always grandma, mom and me. We did everything together. "The three musketeers" we called ourselves, but in my eyes, they were the real heros.
I remember my lively and determined single mother putting herself through nursing school. And I can still hear her voice singing "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…” to me as she got ready for work each morning.
I remember that even on her most tired days, she still managed to either coach my cheerleading team, help me make campaign posters for student counsel, film my friends and I pretending to be the “Spice Girls,” or clean the gymnastics facility I went to in order to help pay for tuition.
My mother was unstoppable. She was beautiful, smart, sensitive, caring, passionate, creative, and the life of every party. She was someone to be admired.
Nevertheless, like everyone else, she had her demons. Demons that forced me to grow up very quickly. Demons that often put me in the role of mother. Demons she eventually defeated.
Demons, however, that would ill compare to those that would reappear following the death of my grandmother in 2008.
Tormented by grief, my mother's life took a dramatic turn for the worst. This once motivated and inspiring woman I once knew no longer existed. She lost everything. She lost herself.
With fear of losing her to these demons, I staged an “intervention” and convinced her to go to rehab.
However, unable to keep her word and unable to finish rehab, I decided to distance myself from my mother completely. I could not live like that anymore. I could not live another day worrying. I could no longer be the mother of my mother.
A few years would pass like this before my mother would start making noticeable changes. She wasn’t completely herself again, but little by little she was carving a new path for herself. She became clean, she held a couple jobs, and she even made a couple decent friends.
In light of these positive changes, my mother and I finally began to rebuild the foundations of our relationship. Little by little, I started to feel as though I was maybe getting my mother back.
Nevertheless, the merciless truth of her new reality created struggles vastly unfamiliar to her. In the wake of losing her nursing license, she struggled to keep these everyday jobs and often struggled with being hired at all. This in turn created a huge financial burden, which thrusted her into a deep depression.
To offer her a little light at the end of the tunnel, I arranged a trip home to Florida this June (as I now currently live in Europe). A trip we excitedly spoke about on the phone on March 12, 2017.
One week after our phone conversation on March 12, 2017, I attempted to contact my mother. Although, not completely unusual for her, she did not respond. So I let another week pass before trying again. However, again, another failed attempt.
[ March 30, 2017: “Summer! Please answer your phone! Your mother was found last night. I’m so sorry.” ]
My life was changed forever.
Had I known in February that the flight I was booking for June would inevitably be a trip to collect my mothers ashes, I would have booked a flight that night.
What happened? I know that she was struggling, but she seemed to be okay. She knew I was coming home to see her soon. We were finally making progress. What happened?
[ April 2, 2017: I flew from Belgium to Florida ]
[ April 2, 2017 - April 8, 2017: During my time in Florida, I would discover a sense of organized chaos; a kind of beautiful mess, I guess. Which now defines the pages of my notebook and the life my mother left. ]
Tragically taken with many questions still unanswered and a cause of death still “pending,” my mother left no will and very little money to help with all the expenses that have surrounded, and continue to surround, her death.
So it is with a heavy and humbled heart that I, her only child, reach out to you today to say… I need help.
Please help me tie up her loose ends and send her off in the most beautiful, peaceful way. Without a struggle. Without a fight. For we know she suffered enough.
Her Memorial Service is scheduled to be held on June 17, 2017 on the beaches of Florida.
With All My Heart,
Summer Hubbard, the loving daughter of Annemarie Hubbard
[Updates to follow]
Organizer
Summer Hubbard
Organizer
St. Petersburg, FL