THE IRON LADY <3

This may be the heaviest article I’ve ever written on the blog but will also be the most important one. My gorgeous mama sadly passed away on Mother’s Day. Many of us knew her as “MJ” or “Marijo” and, to her grandkids, “Mimi” but to me, she was always and always will be “mama”. I’ve spent the past week or so in mourning, swimming in the deep end of grief and trying slowly to come up for air. I’ve never experienced grief of this magnitude before. That isn’t to say I wasn’t sad when my grandparents passed away but this kind of grief hits different. Not only am I coping with the fact that she was taken from me far too soon, at the young age of 71, but she is leaving behind a husband, three daughters, and five grandchildren. She was my best friend, in fact, she was everyone’s best friend. She lit up a room wherever she went, she could bake one mean raspberry pie, and believe me when I tell you, her positive attitude was contagious and spread to everyone who met her. In short, she was my idol. A woman who lost her battle with Stage 3 Ovarian Cancer and but put up one hell of a fight. I have never witnessed someone as strong as her (here come the tears again). I would be remiss if I didn’t indulge on her life, what she meant to me, and what it was like in her final days. I think the grief that I am processing myself is all the unexpressed love for her (and I told her everyday that she was the best of us). Allow me to share my story of my mom, MJ, the most beautiful girl from Michigan :)

The Early Years

Marijo Hatfield was born on July 24, 1952 in Detroit, Michigan to Eileen and Joseph Hatfield. Growing up in the automative industry with her parents and four siblings (three brothers and a sister), she set her sights on helping people and studied her way into becoming a nurse. She lived in Detroit which is where she met my father Greg; he still loves to tell the story of how he was selling pots and pans in downtown Detroit and that’s how he managed to woo my mother. They shared an affinity for cooking, baking, and both had that entrepreneurial spirt. While they lived in Michigan, they owned a chain of toy stores called Gag & Games and also a restaurant/bakery which kept them busy and happy. My mother had a green thumb and no matter what flower you asked about, coming from a family of florists, she always knew the answer. She and my father were married in Farmington and after giving birth to my two elder sisters, decided to head south for warmer weather.

ANew Chapter in FloRida

My parents relocated to Florida in 1982 and ended up making the best decision of their lives because they had me down here ;) JK. I was born here, in sunny Sarasota, and my parents were trailblazers in our small town. At first, they owned Patches, which is still in business to this day. Decorated with the colors pink and green, it still looks and feels like 1984 there. The restaurant was my parents’ sanctuary. My mother spent countless hours baking delicious treats, pies, and yummy goodies daily while my father created the breakfast dishes. I remember as a child, my mother would bring us early in the morning to the bakery and assist her in making the fresh treats daily (although really I was just there to taste test ;)). I’ll never forget the way my mom felt about baking; she had a smile on her face whenever a pie had just come out of the oven. People around town loved to come to Patches for my mom’s baked goods. Patches did very well and, while my parents were succeeding in becoming restauranteurs, that was only the beginning. My dad and his partner Mike, along with my mom and her friend Donna, founded Sharky’s on the Pier in Venice, FL in 1984 and, to this day, it is still a wildly successful establishment. My parents sacrificed a lot and worked their butts off to make it a success. Night and Day, my father worked, and my mother stayed at home while also baking for the restaurant, so to say she was a hero is an understatement. Raising three girls, baking, and being a mom kept my mom busier than ever. Luckily, we went to school close to the restaurant and our community was all based in Venice so those were the golden years for our family. Those years taught us a lot about each other, the values we still uphold, and the importance of family. As the years passed and my sisters and I entered high school, we were all heavily involved with different sports. Basketball, softball, volleyball… really anything that required a ball. My mother would drive us around from sport competitions all over the state, weekend after weekend. She was our biggest fan. Cheering us from the bleachers with excitement and overjoyed how proud she was of all of us. It was a pleasure for me to witness as a daughter looking back. There were naturally times of defeat and she was always there to guide us with her strong words of wisdom and a spirit made of iron to get us back in the saddle.

The Later Years

As we arrived in the early 2000’s, at this point, my sisters and I flew the coop and spread out all over the country, which left my parents as “empty nesters” in Florida. I went to California along with my middle sister, Megan, and my eldest sister Lesley sewed her roots in NYC, starting a career and having a family. During this period of time, we would see our parents as much as we could. After the sale of Sharky’s on the Pier in 2011, they had slowed down their work schedules and would travel often to visit both coasts to visit with us. It was always imperative, however, that we came home to Florida during Christmas time. Christmas was and still is a special time for our family. My mother ALWAYS baked her famous raspberry, apple, and blueberry pies while my dad cooked the ham in the kitchen. If you can envision what “The Griswolds” family Christmas was like, this mirrored ours. Chaos, yelling, stress, happiness - the peaks and valleys of the holiday season. My mom always gave us the most magical Christmas growing up and there were so many fond memories of our holidays together. One Christmas in particular, my parents surprised us with my dog, Porkchop (may he rest in peace), and we all thought initially it was a pig. They were always surprising us with gifts, toys and showered us with a lifetime of memories we will never forget.

THE BIG C WORD

The next few years to come for us were both a shock and a nightmare. As much as I want to recount them for you to share my story, in all honesty these years felt like a blur and it isn’t really the way I want to remember my mother. I do feel, however, that it is important to share this cancer story with others to show you just how strong of a woman my mother was. I still can recall it vividly- it was Mother’s Day weekend in 2022 and my mother started feeling pains in her stomach. Here was a woman who was diligent about her checkups annually, never missed so much as a dental cleaning, gyno appointment, you name it. She was a healthy, active, pickleball loving woman who started to feel a pain in her stomach that if you looked closely you could see a bulge. After a night of extreme pain and nausea, she entered the hospital to learn the dire diagnosis: You have Stage 3 Ovarian Cancer. We were devastated. I remember my whole family, including my husband, went to the hospital that day when we heard the news. We were in complete shock but knew we had to start treatment immediately in order to get a start in the battle for her life. I tried to stay away from reading too much material on Ovarian Cancer because the one outcome I have learned in all of this is that everyone has a different story; no one’s experience with Cancer is the same. My mother underwent chemotherapy using a few different types. She also had numerous surgeries throughout the past two years that prolonged her life. We spent her 70th birthday in the hospital at Moffatt in Tampa and it was definitely a milestone for all of us. We sat around sharing memories, laughing, and watching a video that her friends and family had made for her (we even used old footage from the 80s). We had transformed a completely shitty situation and turned it into something beautiful for her, surrounded by her loved ones and for that I am eternally grateful. Then came December 2022 and my mother had entered remission. I can still hear her voice and remember how excited she was to ring the bell at her chemotherapy treatment center, a symbolic act signifying that she won her brutal fight. It was as if she had closed that chapter of her life and never wanted to look back. The first thing my parents did when my mother was in remission was take a trip to South America. My parents were extensive travelers and have been extremely lucky to have gotten to see a lot of the world: South America, Africa, Europe, Israel, Thailand, Vietnam; I mean everywhere. As I mentioned earlier, they love to immerse themselves and learn about different cultures. Even as I sit here and write this, I remember my mom sent me a photo next to one of the “long neck” women in Thailand and how she had befriended these amazing women in the tribe. For her last trip ever taken, they visited Argentina and Patagonia. Towards the end of the trip, right before they were to head home, my mother started feeling ill again with more pain in her stomach. As soon as they touched down back in the States, the beginning of her end commenced.

HER FINAL DAYS

It is April of 2023 and we are back in the hospital and back undergoing treatments. As a result of either the Cancer or the toxic chemo treatments, my mom’s lung function was so poor that she was required to be on oxygen at all times and had to wear a C-PAP mask for many hours a day to remain conscious. If she did not wear that mask for extended periods, she would gradually slip into a coma and pass away from carbon dioxide buildup, as if running a car in a garage, I was pregnant with my third son, Jack, who was due in September 2023. I kept telling all my friends “I just want my mom to make it to meet Jack” and she did. When she hit that milestone, I said “I just want my mom to make it to Thanksgiving” and she did. “I just want my mom to make it to Christmas” and she did. “I just want my mom to make it to the New Year 2024” and she did. Mind you, during this period, in between the holidays, Jack’s birth. and so forth, I was over visiting with my mother all the time, running her errands, and driving her to doctors appointments. My father was a saint during the past two years. I have never seen a more dedicated and giving person in all my life. Through the two years of diagnosis and treatment, he cooked for her, took her to appointments, barely slept, and made sure she was taken care of at all times. If you have never been a caregiver for someone who is sick, let me tell you, it is probably one of the hardest positions to be in. He insisted on helping every step of the way and, honestly, if it wasn’t for his sacrifice for her, she probably would have died a lot sooner, which bring us to her final days. This past month has been so emotionally and spiritually draining. As much as you prepare for death, say your goodbyes, and accept the inevitable, it just downright smacks you right in the face when it happens. A thief in the night. Father Time. I spoke with a friend of mine who lost her father a month before my mother and we discussed which was worse; having a loved one die unexpectedly or anticipating for it, knowing it will happen. Personally, when it happens, you are honestly never ready for it. Her final weekend in the hospital was coincidentally Mother’s Day weekend 2024, which is also, if you recall, the weekend she originally got diagnosed. We spent the last few days talking with her and surrounding her with love. A point I want to make is this: when my mother entered a coma on Friday, May 10th, we were not sure she was going to wake up. The nurse had spoken with us about not trying to wake her up by putting on her C-PAP mask and that we should let her go in peace. I went home that day, thought about it, and then went back to the hospital and opted to put the mask back on her. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet… I hadn’t given her my mothers day gift, my sisters wanted one more “I love you” and my father hadn’t been able to give her one last kiss. So I strongly put the mask back on and after a few hours, she woke up and we were able to say our last goodbyes to her. Closure. The very thing I was afraid I wasn’t going to get if I didn’t put the mask on that Friday night. There were tears. There were laughs. I even showed my mother that I had purchased a star for her in the star registry. A bilateral star named Marijo that always appears on the horizon just after sunset. She smiled and loved it. It was a moment that will live with me for the rest of my life. Saturday morning rolled around and she woke up a little to eat and drink, but most of the day she slept. She slept all the way through Sunday morning when she finally went with her undying faith surrounded by all of us. Mother’s Day. A day that will now always have a different meaning for me. I don’t mean to shine the holiday into a negative light but for now it will take me time to see it beautifully again. Trust me, I’m trying. Welcome to the grief process…

WHAT GRIEF IS TEACHING ME

No one can ever truly prepare for the grief process. As I said in the beginning, I am still swimming in the deep end of it but there are moments of clarity when those memories put a smile to my face rather than tears in my eyes. The night she passed was a wave of emotion that I had never experienced before. I was overcome with sadness, a sadness that I didn’t even know existed in me. Hyperventilating. Rage. Anger. Asking questions aloud “what do I do?” What do we do with all this unexpressed love? Where does it go? All of the love for my mother can neither be taken away from me or replaced. Sure, I have three boys and a wonderful husband, but a mother’s love is irreplaceable. It is one of the steps I am learning to process myself. I told my mother every single day how much I loved her, how much she meant to me, what she did for me all these years. She was the best of us after all. Even as she took her final breaths, I was still showering her with sweet words and a poem I would love to share with you. Grief has taught me to never take a day in life for granted. Eventually, as father time comes for all of us, the only thing we have left is our memories and my mother gave us the most incredible memories I will always cherish for the rest of my days. Until we will meet again over the rainbow bridge, I will love you forever mama. Rest Easy xo This ones for you <3

For My Mama

No matter how bright the sun shows it face or how the wind howls as it moves

I will always think of you

when someone laughs at my jokes or gets in the car to sing a great tune

I will always think of you

i will try my best to make a great pie and look for you always up in the sky

and you will never ever be far from my mind

I will always ALWAYS think of you

Love you Mom Forever and Always (And even after that)

MARIJO HATFIELD NOVACK

JULY 24, 1952-May 12, 2024

Please consider donating to the Ovarian Cancer Resource Alliance in hopes to one day find a cure for this terrible disease!

Ovarian Cancer Resource Alliance in Honor Of Marijo Novack