It is coming upon the third anniversary of my mothers death. Three years. I try to digest just what that time means. It means something different for everyone. Those who have gotten used to her not being here, those who have taken the steps to move on. Those who have mourned, healed and went on to accept her death. Then there is me, who is still living that time, like a record skipping. I think I took a step forward, only to be snatched back into the horror of her being gone.
I think this is because I have spent the time since her death, trying desperately to appear "put together" for those who were also greatly affected by her death. I have been the rock, the sturdy strong woman who will put the pieces back of everyone else.
While most everyone else has moved on, and have been taking steps forward, I've been stuck in this reel of thinking I can step forward but only to be thrown back into the darkness.
I think its time, I tell our story. It will be told in sections, as much I can tell at once. Bare with me.
The photograph above is so special to me. It was the photograph that literally held me together when I had to be away from my mom. She gave it to me during my first day of all day school. To comfort me since I wouldn't be with her all day, and for me that was so very hard.
As a youngster I sure did love my mother. I wanted to be around her all the time. I wanted to help her out and know everything that she was doing. If she was in the kitchen, I was there too. If she went to the bathroom to get something, you bet I was right there asking her what she was doing.
Friends? Who needed friends? I was hanging with my mommy! Brother? Who is that?! I was hanging with my mommy! Going to school all day was a very hard pill for me to swallow. She would literally beg me to get out of the car in the morning and walk into school. "How could I just leave her like that?" I'd think. "Who would follow her around and hold her hand? Who would help her in the kitchen?"
I worried that before she could come back to get me from school something terrible would happen to her and I would never see her again. Even as a small child I had major anxiety about everything. One morning as I sat in the car crying, and she sat beside me ever so patiently trying to build my confidence up so that I would get out already and get a grip, she handed me this photo that was taken the year before, at my brothers special education class. His teacher and him put a little birthday party together for me when mom and me came to pick him up. We had popcorn and wore party hats. It was very thoughtful of my brother, actually the last time he ever did anything nice for me (but that is another story). And the teacher took this photo. My mom and me smack in the center, and my brother proudly smiling over me, with all of his friends.
If I missed my mom, Id sneak a peak inside my desk to see her face. Id remind myself of what she'd say "Ill see you in just a couple of hours. "
Thinking back, my mother had the patience of a saint, putting up with all of my silliness over the course of my young life. I was a prankster, I was strong-willed, hard headed and downright TRYING child. I did not realize just how ungratefully draining I had to be for her until she wasn't here anymore. We had talked over many of our grievances. We made amends to a lot of our fights, and even realized what the root, or should I say WHO the root of the problem was with the last two fights we had before she passed (again, another story for another post) but it wasn't until the last year or so of my dealing with my own little mini me child, just how much patience she had with me. She was truly a selfless mother.
The "I don't want to lose my Mom and the I would give up everything to have my mom be here with me" part came a lot quicker for me. I do feel bad for myself about this, I do. Not going to lie. I selfishly want my mom back because I MISS HER AND I NEED HER. But most of all, I am mad that she has to miss her grand babies growing up. She really sincerely enjoyed them. She sincerely loved them. She sincerely wanted to be around them and do things with them all the time. But she only got to meet two of the grand babies I made for her, and she never really got to know her granddaughter at all. Eve was 9 months when she passed away.
She never got to know that this little girl of mine is a mini version of her grandma! She love shoes, and nail polish, and dresses, and purses. Its not fair that Eve will never get to go get her nails done with grandma. Or go shoe shopping. Or get their hair done. Or have a spa day. Or just call each other up and chat about make-up. My mother always purposed to spend time and love on Talon. He knew her love, and that makes me happy. Its sad however, to see him hurt for his grandma too. When you know love and its then lost, its a great loss. What a cruel thing for a child to feel. I really hate cancer. HATE it.
I think I will end this here for now. I wish that I can bring her back. But I cannot, (and if I have learned anything from bad 90s horror films, it never ends well if I could) I will simply stop focusing on helping others in their grief, and start to work on my own. Standing still in the dark hole looking down towards the ground isn't any way to live. God Bless. Till next time.
Sincerely,
The motherless mother of hobbits
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