I've recently realized that for the last two years... I've just been going through the motions of life. Putting one foot in front of the other. I've just kept moving. (I was told... just take it one day at a time... and it will get better with time.) Newsflash: Time cannot fix anything nor can it heal your heart. It takes actions to fix anything and it takes steps to help your heart heal in a way that you can handle your loss.
Two years ago this week.... my mom passed away.
Two years ago this week.... my mom passed away.
Two years later... I cannot have a conversation about my mother to anyone... without tears falling. Two years later... I am still picking up the phone to call her from the grocery store. Two years later... I am still having difficulty going through some of her things and continue to put it off. Two years later... I can hear her in things that come out of my mouth. Two years later... I still miss her as if... it were yesterday.
You're probably reading this and thinking... how depressing. Actually, don't think that. For the first time in awhile, I can actually smile and know it's a real smile. I can laugh and know that I'm truly feeling joy back into my life. Time has given me an opportunity to deal with my own feelings, my own needs and to know that no matter how much time has passed... it's always going to hurt and I'm always going to miss... her. Actually, I miss both of my parents... greatly. Time has given me a chance to realize that it's up to me to take the steps needed to live again and not just go through the motions. Nothing can ever replace a loved one that you lose. Nothing will ever be the same. Time has allowed me to accept that and begin the healing process where I can enjoy my life again.
Remembering helps. Remembering allows our emotions to be expressed. I've learned that it's okay to cry. It's okay to still feel loss. It's okay to handle grief differently. This blog is not a blog of self-pity. No... This blog is a tribute... to my foundation. I've read so many other amazing blogs on loss and grief. They've all been inspiring and they've all helped as I've traveled through my own grief to get to this point. Now.. I can remember and not feel pain, but feel tremendous love. It's amazing how our parents impact our lives in ways that we don't realize... until we don't have it any longer. Have you thought about the things that you'd truly miss? For me.. my choices surprised me and at the same time, they also brought a smile to my face.
My mother used to get great satisfaction out of lecturing me about getting on airplanes, traveling alone and going out into the big bad world... (at age 40!) Deep down... she was really living vicariously through me, even though she would never admit it. Ever. Every trip I would take... I would get a phone call that would start out with.... "Are you there?"... and I would smile and take a deep breath and say... "Yes, I made it." The conversation would continue... with "Well, what's there?"... when reality was... I had only landed 15 minutes prior and hadn't made it out of the airport. But... like all dutiful daughters... I played along and said.. well, I haven't seen anything but big buildings yet, etc.. and this would eventually lead into... the dangers of the world. After a 15-20 minute conversation, she would finally have enough information... to pass along to her telephone chain.
Needless to say, everybody who was friends with my mother... always knew where I was and what I was doing which was why... I learned to only tell her things... that didn't really matter. Now... I don't have that opportunity to share with her... my "glamourous" life as she used to call it, but, every trip... I still wait for the phone call... that doesn't come.
Now... I am sure that some of you have always heard stories about how your parents had it much tougher than you did. I know that in my family, it was always a topic that turned into how "spoiled" we were and if we had to pick cotton like she did and work from " can to can't!" One of my fondest memories is hearing my mother talk with her siblings about growing up and their adventures in the cotton patch. I'm laughing now, just thinking about it. My mother came from a large family. She had 7 siblings in her family and 2 siblings from her dad's family prior to marrying my "mamaw". They weren't a rich family, and to hear my mother tell it... they were the exact opposite, but they always had food on the table and they all worked from the time they could walk (her words), except the "second" set as she liked to refer to a couple of my aunts and an uncle. (What does second set mean? My mother's youngest sister was born when she was 17 or 18 years old) so, she called them the second set. The funny thing.. is that she absolutely would have walked on water for her younger sister, although she said that when she was born she was soooooo embarrassed. For that matter, she would have walked on water for any of her siblings... she was just that way. She may not have wanted them to know it... but they knew. She could talk about them and her own kids all day long, but don't let anyone else breath a word of bad. She stood beside and with her family through thick and thin, even as she was "politely" letting you know what you did wrong. (For those who knew my mother... I am sure you can all laugh of what "politely" meant!)
As I write and laugh out loud... one thing that I know will always be said about her...is that most people thought my mother was mean. In fact, she was mean and the older she got and more set in her ways, the meaner she became... but the real truth is... she would have given the shirt off her back for those she loved. She played the tough, strong, independent leader to the hilt. One of my cousins, who my mother loved like her own, made the statement when she passed away, "She was the Leader of the Pack". It was true. She played it well, but the truth is.. when things got tough or somebody needed something... my mother was the first person there. My mother wasn't an overly affectionate person. She would grant a pat to a long lost relative or a hug every now and then. She would hug her grandchildren and love on her great grand-baby... but she never said the words. My mother was a "fighter" and I say that with laughter because honestly, she'd fight or debate about anything and to anyone. You didn't even have to be family to be on the reciprocal end. One of the things that I loved to do best... was hug my mother when she least expected it, especially if she was mad. She would act like she was fighting mad, when deep down, she loved every minute of it.
Two years later... I'd love to be able to hug my mother. I'd love to hear a story of how tough she had it and how lucky I am. I'd love for my telephone to ring. Two years later... I'd love for her to tell me that I'm not cooking something right. Two years later... I'm smiling and laughing.... and finally realizing that I'm still doing all those things... through memories. For the first time... tears didn't fall from pain, they fell from joy.
Parents are priceless treasures in our lives just as our children, grandchildren, friends and other loved ones are to us. Take time every day... to show and share your love. Life is precious and time is ours... don't waste a minute.
Remembering helps. Remembering allows our emotions to be expressed. I've learned that it's okay to cry. It's okay to still feel loss. It's okay to handle grief differently. This blog is not a blog of self-pity. No... This blog is a tribute... to my foundation. I've read so many other amazing blogs on loss and grief. They've all been inspiring and they've all helped as I've traveled through my own grief to get to this point. Now.. I can remember and not feel pain, but feel tremendous love. It's amazing how our parents impact our lives in ways that we don't realize... until we don't have it any longer. Have you thought about the things that you'd truly miss? For me.. my choices surprised me and at the same time, they also brought a smile to my face.
My mother used to get great satisfaction out of lecturing me about getting on airplanes, traveling alone and going out into the big bad world... (at age 40!) Deep down... she was really living vicariously through me, even though she would never admit it. Ever. Every trip I would take... I would get a phone call that would start out with.... "Are you there?"... and I would smile and take a deep breath and say... "Yes, I made it." The conversation would continue... with "Well, what's there?"... when reality was... I had only landed 15 minutes prior and hadn't made it out of the airport. But... like all dutiful daughters... I played along and said.. well, I haven't seen anything but big buildings yet, etc.. and this would eventually lead into... the dangers of the world. After a 15-20 minute conversation, she would finally have enough information... to pass along to her telephone chain.
Needless to say, everybody who was friends with my mother... always knew where I was and what I was doing which was why... I learned to only tell her things... that didn't really matter. Now... I don't have that opportunity to share with her... my "glamourous" life as she used to call it, but, every trip... I still wait for the phone call... that doesn't come.
Now... I am sure that some of you have always heard stories about how your parents had it much tougher than you did. I know that in my family, it was always a topic that turned into how "spoiled" we were and if we had to pick cotton like she did and work from " can to can't!" One of my fondest memories is hearing my mother talk with her siblings about growing up and their adventures in the cotton patch. I'm laughing now, just thinking about it. My mother came from a large family. She had 7 siblings in her family and 2 siblings from her dad's family prior to marrying my "mamaw". They weren't a rich family, and to hear my mother tell it... they were the exact opposite, but they always had food on the table and they all worked from the time they could walk (her words), except the "second" set as she liked to refer to a couple of my aunts and an uncle. (What does second set mean? My mother's youngest sister was born when she was 17 or 18 years old) so, she called them the second set. The funny thing.. is that she absolutely would have walked on water for her younger sister, although she said that when she was born she was soooooo embarrassed. For that matter, she would have walked on water for any of her siblings... she was just that way. She may not have wanted them to know it... but they knew. She could talk about them and her own kids all day long, but don't let anyone else breath a word of bad. She stood beside and with her family through thick and thin, even as she was "politely" letting you know what you did wrong. (For those who knew my mother... I am sure you can all laugh of what "politely" meant!)
As I write and laugh out loud... one thing that I know will always be said about her...is that most people thought my mother was mean. In fact, she was mean and the older she got and more set in her ways, the meaner she became... but the real truth is... she would have given the shirt off her back for those she loved. She played the tough, strong, independent leader to the hilt. One of my cousins, who my mother loved like her own, made the statement when she passed away, "She was the Leader of the Pack". It was true. She played it well, but the truth is.. when things got tough or somebody needed something... my mother was the first person there. My mother wasn't an overly affectionate person. She would grant a pat to a long lost relative or a hug every now and then. She would hug her grandchildren and love on her great grand-baby... but she never said the words. My mother was a "fighter" and I say that with laughter because honestly, she'd fight or debate about anything and to anyone. You didn't even have to be family to be on the reciprocal end. One of the things that I loved to do best... was hug my mother when she least expected it, especially if she was mad. She would act like she was fighting mad, when deep down, she loved every minute of it.
Two years later... I'd love to be able to hug my mother. I'd love to hear a story of how tough she had it and how lucky I am. I'd love for my telephone to ring. Two years later... I'd love for her to tell me that I'm not cooking something right. Two years later... I'm smiling and laughing.... and finally realizing that I'm still doing all those things... through memories. For the first time... tears didn't fall from pain, they fell from joy.
Parents are priceless treasures in our lives just as our children, grandchildren, friends and other loved ones are to us. Take time every day... to show and share your love. Life is precious and time is ours... don't waste a minute.
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