Grief is a [insert bad word]
I couldn’t bring myself to put “Grief is a Bi+*#” in the post title since this pertains to my mom... it just doesn’t seem right. But man, it really, really is. I made it through the work day, made dinner for my family, indulged in 2.5 glasses of wine (so far - probably more to come) and am just glad to say this day is almost done.
December 1, I hate you.
I haven’t really talked much about my mom on this blog... But see, she passed away four years ago today.
There are many experts out there on grief... I have no idea how to counsel someone on how to deal with it. For me? I usually bottle it up until an important day (like today) comes along and then I wollow in it. Reading, remembering, listening to songs... completely taking myself there to feel it all over again. As my husband puts the kids to bed, that’s what I’m doing now - reading through a blog I started for my mom a few months before she passed. It was my last present to her - a gesture to let her know I was thinking about her daily.
I got stuck on this particular post written one week after she died. You can read it below.
Last year I remember I was whining about the fact that I didn’t feel much at all. Read my post about that. I wanted to be sad but just wasn’t.
This year I’m feeling all the feels.
It’s like I’ve been preparing for it... I bought a bottle of wine for it... I listened to Willie Nelson’s “Always On My Mind” today, I wore the bracelet of sand dollars that makes me think of her today...
And I’m writing this rambling post about it - why, I’m not sure?! But it does feel good to just put it out there.
I miss you, Mom. I miss you a lot.
I wish you could see my adorable children and my new house. I wish you could see your old ornaments hanging on my Christmas tree.
I wish you knew I finally learned how to cook (or kinda - I did manage to make dinner tonight) that I changed jobs and that I still love to decorate gifts. I’d tell you that I’ve written a few more poems and that I still love to sing. I’d show you silly videos of my kids running through sprinklers and jumping in leaf piles and talk with you about how much Norah looks like the pictures I remember of when you were little. And how Zave is playing hockey - yes, that’s right - hockey at 6 years old. And I would just introduce you to Banks since you two never got to meet.
You’d also be proud to know how your giving spirit lives on a little through me as I try to love on and befriend those who miss their mamas too. That might be the only good thing I see from this experience - you leaving this earth helped my heart grow just a little bit bigger for those grieving a loved one too.
I love you baby sister. Well said.
i'm with you chantel. it usually takes me awhile b/f i feel too. my dad died november 28. it was very sudden. no good-byes. the shock of it brought us together with tears of course, but we were also in shock. he wasn't sick, just had a heart attack and was dead. that was it! then i returned to jamaica with my family (where we lived at the time) and we had a wonderful xmas. around january, however, the reality of what had happened started to hit. it has been hitting ever since. (that was in 1973!)
Oh how I feel you. I am already dreading "that" day and it's months away. The day my mom rushed out of here, left me behind, and ran into the arms of Jesus. (*cue giant burning tears and choke back the lump in my throat*) I never thought losing my mom could have such a profound impact on me every. Single. Day. And I certainly never wanted to be in this "club," but here I am. Nothing I can do about. And it sucks. Oh, how I feel you! BUT it sucks a lot less knowing that I am walking through this with friends like YOU. I love you, girl. And Im glad God gave me you. Truly. Please don't stop writing...I am following along and grieving with you. Hugs and prayers!!!
Leave a Reply.
Wife, mom and full-time marketing pro. Diet coke addict. Auburn fan (and alumn). Christian - striving to comprehend grace.