It's been 216 days. Since my mother left. And I still have trouble some days accepting that she is gone. Some days I can feel her presence. And it's amazing. I see her in the sunrise. In the sunset. In the flowers, in nature. She sends me visitors. And beautiful signs. I have so many pictures. I have videos. I have her voice recorded. What blessings. Other days it's unbearable that I can't call her, or feel her face on mine from kissing her cheek. If I close my eyes though I can feel it. I can feel her soft skin. She always swore by Mary Kay. I can see her beautifully manicured fingernails and feel her wrinkly knuckles. I see her smile and hear her slight giggle when I talk about something funny the kids did. I know exactly how she liked her tea. I know she hated the smell of pickles and would twist up her face at the mention of mustard. "Blech"! she would say. Ha! I remember how she always caked on her dark blue eyeshadow and used her pink lipstick as "rouge" as she called it, and brushed her long blonde hair. And no matter what temperature it was outside she wore flip flops. I see them in the store all the time and think of her every time. Sometimes even though I know what happened to her, I find it so hard to accept and understand why. Why something so cruel had to happen to such an amazing, kind hearted, giving, wonderful person. The woman who would find things, fix them up and give them to people. To some that might seem lowly but to me it speaks highly of a humble person who came from nothing and understood what giving was all about. She gave what she could, when she could. Her love, her heart, and her time. Especially to my children. She was the BEST Grandma. She was always a big kid with her obsession with Winnie the pooh. So when she had children to play with, her playfulness fourished. And so did our relationship. After having kids I had developed a newfound respect and appreciation for my mother. I started to wonder how she was able to do all she did for everyone and me growing up. I learned things you can only learn as an adult with kids of your own. Which is such a harsh reality because by then sometimes it can be so late. Too late. I'm grateful it wasn't too late for me. Even if it was only for a short time. In the grand scheme it's all just a short time. A short ride of making memories, and just trying to appreciate the little things. The daily mundane life events of eating together, watching someone hang laundry out the window. Watching TV together. Having family over, watching fireworks on the 4th of July while family is over for a BBQ. Even the bad stuff like family arguments. Adolescent rebellion and then gravitating back toward each other when life shows you how much you need each other. For a brief moment before it's time to say Good-Bye. We have to treasure it all. I miss it all. I have a cute memory of the night of my bachelorette party. I was in the bathroom in the bar pretty drunk, and my Mom came in the bathroom with me because I wanted to keep an eye on her to keep her safe. (A grown woman, haha!) So I got nervous for a second and I looked over the stall and was like Mom?! In a little bit of a panic. She looked at me and said "I'm here" but the face she made was a sweet smirk face like she was happy that I needed her. At that moment I realized even in my drunken stupor that we had reached a different level in our relationship and I had grown a lot as an adult. I needed my Mom. And we were best friends. And that never changed. It only deepened. And I am so grateful for that. And although my heart is shattered and I will never be able to put it back together the way it was before, I know that one day she will meet me in the light with open arms. It will be like no time has passed. Until then it's my turn to be the giver. To be the memory maker. And I will do my best to make her proud.
I Love you Momma....
