I’ve been reading a lot about loss and grief lately. I’m not sure if it’s a theme of the holiday season, while family gathers and some people feel the massive hole of a lost loved one. I’m not sure if people are just really going through it right now, for whatever reason. I’m not sure if it’s because people are experiencing more loss than ever right now. I’m not sure. Search for the light in the darkness.
Gratitude:
Another day!
Family/Health
Coffee
Fresh snow
A good book (currently: Walden)
Children’s laughter as my background noise
Finding lights in the darkness are what keep us here. They pull us out and keep us moving forward. Which, 9 times out of 10, that’s what our lost ones would want us to do.
They say to really understand someone you have to walk a mile in their shoes. Miles even. Well, I’ve walked the miles. I’ve searched high and low for you. I’ve found you a few times, but wish I could find you more. Bump into you downtown. At the grocery store. Call you up for coffee, or better yet wine and a movie. I often feel like I’m missing out on so much without her here. Theres a piece of me missing and those pieces grow bigger and bigger as time goes on.
I don’t know much about my moms childhood. Little tidbits here and there were shared but lets face it, at 15 years old, I didn’t really care. Maybe if I had known I was going to lose my mom, I would have soaked in every detail of her life. Wrote everything down. Memorized it. My only insight into my mom’s life is her cousin Roxanne, who I am so grateful for. She answers my random late night texts about my mom. How she was, her favorites, what she did to pass the time. Now, less than two weeks away from my 32nd birthday, I wish I knew more. It’s hard to settle into your own when one of the most important people, arguably, the most important person is missing from your life. Without her, there would be no me.
What I do know:
I know my mom lost her mom when she was 9 years old. Iris (my grandmother) died on the front porch of a heart attack. My mom watched. My moms parents were separated and I believe at this time her dad (don’t even know/remember his name) lived in Florida. My mom moved in with her grandmother (Nan to me, Gram to my mom). When my mom was 16 she was supposed to go visit her dad in Florida but shortly before going, he had died of a heart attack. My mom was an only child (although I think her dad ended up having more kids but my mom didn’t really know them). Growing up, we would go to Nan’s house every Sunday for lunch. It was always a big ordeal. Loads of family members showing up for roasts, mashed potatoes, creamed corn, and green beans. I never liked going to Nans. I always wanted to spend the weekends with my friends or at home on the computer talking to my friends. Ya know, typical teenage girl stuff. I didn’t have the appreciation for the different generations of my family like I do now. I wish I had asked Nan more about her upbringing and what life was like for her. Getting off track…
Back to what I do know about my mom — I know she loved to read. I know she loved her wine coolers. I know she liked baked goods but didn’t like to bake. She loved getting her nails done. I know her favorite song was “Jessie’s Girl” by Rick Springfield. I know she lived for my sister and I. I know she loved the days we decided to stay home from a social engagement to spend time with her.
What I don’t know:
I don’t know about her upbringing other than what’s mentioned above. I don’t know how she coped with the loss of both of her parents. I don’t know stories from her teenage years. I don’t know happy, funny memories she held on to. I don’t know how she pushed through being a single mom. Working full-time and still managing to make it to all of our sporting events, school concerts, field trips, etc. She never made us feel like she was out of gas. I don’t know what she did when she needed a break from it all, as we often feel we do. I don’t know (or remember) her favorite color, movie, show, book.
Growing up being the girl whose mom died is a…unique experience. I truly wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. The Dead Moms Club — you only understand it if you’re in it. People look at you differently. Family looks at you differently. Everything is different. They assume they know things about you, or walk on eggshells with their words. They’re hesitant to talk about their own moms or even use the word mom around you. The amount of times I’ve said, “mom” and “died” in the same sentence now probably outnumbers the amount of times I was able to use the word “mom” to get her attention or talk about her while she was alive.
I often have these “ah-ha” moments in parenting when a certain behavior or memory of my mom just clicks. I can understand why she was the way she was. Why she did what she did. Acted the way she did. Worried. Protective. Overstimulated. Anxious. I understand the feeling of asking your kids to do something over and over again just to end up doing it yourself when you realize it was never done a few hours later. (No fault of the kids, they’re just kids). I understand now, what it feels to watch your heart walk outside your body. Learning to walk, stumble, fall, learn and grow. I understand now what it’s like to love someone more than you can even comprehend. I understand now, why motherhood was her entire identity.
What I want her to know:
I get it. I am it. I love you for everything that you were. I am grateful for the time spent with me, the time spent working, the money earned for me to stay relevant with the rich kids I grew up with. I am grateful for the unconditional love you gave me that I can still feel. Her mothering, taught me how to be a mom. I am grateful for the time we had together, although, not nearly enough.
I miss you.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
If you are lucky enough to have your mom around, nurture that relationship the best you can. I know not all relationships are healthy, positive, happy. Some take more work than others and some are often not able to be repaired. Do your best. I can promise you the feeling of “not doing enough” while your mom is here is all consuming when she’s gone.
If you are part of the club, I stand with you. Hand in hand. One foot in front of the other, every single day. It’s possible to enjoy your life and be honestly happy while in your heart, you hold the biggest void for your loss. Surround yourself with people who fill your cup, add to your joys, make you smile everyday. And just because you don’t sit and actively mourn every day, doesn’t mean you are forgetting her or moving on. It just means you’re learning to live the way your mom would want you to.
Holiday seasons really knows how to pull the emotions strings, yeah?
-AD
I remember when my parents used to go out & leave us sometimes…& I’d cry myself to sleep, imagining they’d died in a car accident…I cannot fathom what that really feels like…hugs ❤️
Hand in hand ♥️✨