For the record, in case anyone was wondering, I still really miss my Mom.
I made her apple pie this week. And it’s so good. When I make her recipes I see her hands making them and it is happy and sad all at once.
I think of her a million times every day. I think of her when I look down at my hand and see her ring on my finger and I wish it was on hers instead.
I think of her when we put lotion on Little Miss after her bath–I put lotion on Mom with the same gentle strokes in the last weeks before she died.
I think of her when I look at the gap between Little Miss’s teeth. Mom would be mortified to see that she has picked up that particular trait, but I love it.
I think of her anytime I have any of the million little Mommy questions that I would only feel safe asking her. Instead of asking her, I hold my breath and pray that I’m doing right by my daughter.
I think of her when I sigh happily and breathe in the smell of Little Miss. I wonder what Mom thought when she held me, and I ache for the chance to ask her.
I think of her when a song she loved comes on and I miss her really terrible off-key singing that I always teased her mercilessly about. Gosh how I would love to go on a road trip–or just a trip to the store and sing “Diggin’ up Bones” or “We’ll Understand it All By and By,” or better yet, “House of the Rising Sun” at the top of our lungs really, really badly.
I think of her when I’m being just a little overly protective of Little Miss and imagine her telling me with one of her off-color phrases to lighten up.
I think of her when I read Newsweek and wish I could hear what she would say about politics and current affairs.
I think of her when I ache with weariness from doing the Mommy thing and wife thing and cleaning thing and just want to ask her, “Was it like this for you? How did you get through it?”
I think of her when I get excited about starting seminary and moving a new direction and I want to tell her all of the little nuances involved with trying to get there.
I don’t care that it is the natural order of things to lose one’s parents in one’s lifetime. That is what is thrust in the face of my grief so very often. You know what? It is NOT the natural order of things to lose one’s mother at 24 years of age. It is NOT the natural order of things to lose her four months after your first child is born. It is a terrible thing at any time, but at a time when you are discovering anew the relationship between Mother and Daughter as it unfolds in your own life, it is especially bitter.
Every day I wish I could walk to the phone and call her. Sometimes it’s just because I want to talk, but don’t know who to call. In those instances I always called Mom.
I have grown used to missing her and thinking of her and longing for her. It is only a part of my day instead of the only stop. But I don’t believe there will ever be a day that goes by that I don’t think of her and wish she was here to talk to.
Living a year without her seems unfathomable, though it’s happened. But the most unfathomable thing is knowing that I will be without her for the rest of my life. Put in those terms the utter barreness of the landscape of my life without her is enough to take my breath away.
But… I will live it. And thinking of her at each of these little points of rememberence in every day will keep her an active part of my life.
If only that were enough….