Mama

Ten years ago today my mother passed away.

To say it happened suddenly isn't entirely true. Yes, the event that led to her death was completely unexpected, but she didn't succumb until 15 days later. And I held out hope until the very end. After all, she was small but mighty and I never thought I would ever have to say goodbye.

I've suffered through other losses in my life, and each one hurt in its own unique way. But it was at the time of my mother's death that I really felt the distance between this life and the next. At that moment, even though I wholeheartedly believed in the afterlife, I was confronted with the fact that my mother was gone from this earth and enjoying the splendor of Heaven...and I couldn't quite grasp that concept. All of a sudden it was as if I was Here and she was There and I needed to find the string that would connect us again.

I had never felt so alone.

What is it about our mothers that is so very special? My mother wasn't perfect (although she was in many ways a saint) but she was the only mother I ever needed or wanted. Her death left a hole in my heart that no other human can fill. I'm sure my siblings would probably say the same thing.

There have been so many times in the past decade when I thought I couldn't possibly go on. Those were the times I needed my mother the most. I needed to have her on my side when my husband and I argued about how best to raise our grand/daughters. I longed to hear her tell me one more time that I am a good mother in spite of what the children say. And maybe because I knew I no longer could, I desperately wanted to tell her how much she meant to me. How much she meant to us all. How dearly we loved her and appreciated everything she did for everybody she knew.

So in my prayers tonight, after I thank God for the many wonderful things He's already done for me, I'll ask Him to please tell my mother that I love her and miss her with all my heart. And then I'll thank God again for blessing me with the imperfect mother He knew would be perfect for me.

A Mother's Love

Five years after her sudden death, I still miss my mother like crazy.  She would have turned 74 today.

I had this vinyl cutout on the wall in my old craftroom.  When I moved to a new space, I couldn't bear to take it down. Every time I see it, it reminds me of my mother.  She was never happier than when she could shower a child with love.

Happy birthday, Mama.  You are always in my heart and on my mind.

February Memories

For the past five years, February has been a month filled with sadness for me.  On February 1st, 2007, my mother suffered a brain hemorrhage which took her life two weeks later.  Those were two of the longest, most difficult weeks of my life spent waiting and praying, and ultimately accepting that my world would never be the same.

February 1st, 2012, was another day filled with anxiety and waiting.  But this time I had reason to expect a happy outcome.  My daughter was admitted to the hospital to give birth to her first child, my first grandson.

February 2nd was delivery day.  Or so we hoped.  Because the baby was overdue by nearly two weeks, labor was to be induced at midnight.  The waiting began.

With two school-aged children and an undomesticated husband dependent upon me for their sustenance (and clean clothes),  I was forced to remain 400 miles away from the big event.  There's nothing worse than being so far away from your hospitalized child and not knowing what's going on.  Except, of course, if you are a world-class worrier and you happen to see all the complications unfold right before your eyes.  Luckily, I wasn't there to witness all the medical drama.  I simply sat by the phone waiting and worrying, and with each passing moment I played out terrible scenarios in my mind.   And since my husband seemed to be holding it together quite well, I decided to share these with him.  No reason to suffer alone.

Finally, just about the time my husband seemed poised to go to bed and leave me alone to face my fears, the phone call came. Baby Logan had arrived weighing 7 pounds, 8 ounces, and measuring 20 inches long.  He wasn't the record-setting large baby we were expecting based on the size of my poor daughter's belly and the length of time she spent growing him there.  But he still couldn't make it out the non-surgical way we had hoped.  My daughter gave it her all, but after 20 hours of labor and 2 1/2 hours of pushing with all her might, it was obvious the little guy was demanding a more dramatic entrance.

My daughter had been determined to have a natural birth, but even with all her planning and preparation, that wasn't to be.  Such is life. But mother and baby are doing well, and today they're heading home with the proud father, ready to start this new, exciting chapter in their lives.

February will always hold sad memories for me, but as I look at the sweet face of my new grandson, and hear the pride and love in the voices of his parents, I know it will now be the month that gives me renewed hope and happiness.  I feel certain my mother is watching from Heaven and enjoying the beauty of it all.

My newest obsession.

Isn't he precious?

Just One More Visit

My mother would have turned 73 today, but she left this earth four years ago.  I wasn't ready.  But then I guess no one is ever ready to lose someone they love.

I always knew I should visit her more.  She couldn't visit me because she spent the last years of her life caring for my sister around the clock.  She would have it no other way.  First and foremost, she was a mother. 

Some nights when I'm trying to fall asleep I'll say a little prayer.  "Dear God, please send Mama down for one more visit.  There's so much I meant to say."  So far He hasn't answered me.  At least not in the way I want. 

Her life was no picnic but she was always patient and loving.  She had six children and we all felt loved.  I've always had a difficult time showing my two children how much I love them.  And patience isn't even in my vocabulary.  I wish I could ask Mama how she did it all.  I wish she could just tell me, one more time, that I was a good mother.   Most days I hear about everything I've done wrong (often it's just the voices in my head), but Mama was always on my side.  I need that now.  More than ever. 

But more than anything, I want to be her friend.  I want to tell her what a wonderful person she is.  I wish I could let her know what an inspiration she always was and continues to be.  I want to say, "I love you."

When I pray tonight, rather than asking God to send Mama back to visit me, I'll try to be selfless like she always was.  I'll just ask Him to tell her how much she is loved and that her children miss her like crazy. 

Happy birthday, Mama.

Courage to Change

(When I first sat down to write this entry, I was in a much darker mood.   While I still feel that I'm under a heavy cloud, it doesn't seem quite as ominous.  I should have changed the tone of what's written below, but my lack of motivation is pretty widespread.  Besides, I really just wanted another chance to talk about my wonderful mother.)


As I sit here on the eve of my 52nd birthday contemplating the changes I need to make in my life, my thoughts turn to my mother and what a remarkable woman she was.  I previously wrote about her on her birthday, but even then I don't think I realized just how courageous she had been.

One afternoon when I was in my early 20's, I received an unexpected phone call from my mother.  She was in a nearby town and asked if I could please come down and pick her up.  My mother didn't drive and rarely asked for help, especially if she thought it would inconvenience someone.  But after suffering through an unhappy marriage for more than 20 years, and since her youngest child was nearing adolescence, she had finally decided to file for divorce.  She had actually walked the 10 or so miles to the county seat to file the paperwork, and now as the day wore on she needed a ride back home.  (Looking back, I think she realized she couldn't get back on her own in time to meet my youngest sister when she got home from school.  Otherwise, knowing her, I believe she would have found the energy to make the trip home without asking for help from anyone.)

Most days I can barely find the motivation to drive to the grocery store.  I can't begin to imagine walking 10 miles to a town I'm not familiar with.  And the idea of doing something that would drastically change my life scares me beyond words.  Maybe it was the desperation that pushed Mama forward.  Or perhaps she was simply the bravest woman I'll ever know.

I'm sure my mother thought I would be angry with the decision she made that day.  I wasn't.  As much as I loved my father, I knew the suffering my mother had endured.  I had been wanting her to find happiness, or at least some peace, for many years.  Her childhood alone had been filled with enough difficulty to last a lifetime.  Unfortunately, pain would follow her for the remainder of her life.  But until today, I had never given much thought as to the courage it took for her to wake up and make a choice that would change her life forever.

Mama, I wish you were here to guide me through these difficult days.  You could always make me feel better.  Maybe you wouldn't have an answer for me.  But I'm certain you would give me the strength to find it for myself.

A Girl Needs Her Mom

Technically, I haven't been a "girl" in a long time.  But I'm as lost without my mother as any young girl would be.  It's only been three years since she died unexpectedly, and I still can't wrap my mind around the thought that I'll never see her again.  At least not in this life. Today I wish with every fiber of my being that I could pick up the phone and call her.  I'm ashamed to say I didn't make enough of those calls when I had the chance.  I'm sure Mama forgave me.  I'm not sure I'll ever forgive myself.

The relationship between a mother and daughter is often complicated and frustrating, but almost always comforting and filled with love. Well, eventually.

I wish I could spend Mother's Day with my mom.  But even if she were still alive, I probably wouldn't.  She lived a six-hour drive from me. (And let's face it--life gets in the way of what we really want to do.)  If you think about it, I'm only a heartbeat away from her. (My last heartbeat, of course.) As much as I miss her, I think I'll stick around a little longer.  I like to believe my kids need me as much as I need her.

Happy Mother's Day, Mama!

Happy Birthday, Mama

Today is my mother's birthday.  She passed away unexpectedly three years ago.  Her death shook me to the core, and caused me to question everything I had ever believed.  I'm not sure why her death affected me in ways no other had, but I couldn't make sense of the fact that one day she was here, then she wasn't. 

I lived six hours away from her and never got to spend enough time with her.  I promised myself I would visit more often.  She couldn't visit me; she had spent the past seven years caring full-time for my sister, who was in a persistent vegetative state.  She insisted that she care for her at home, and only allowed my other sisters to take over for short periods of time.  She never wanted to inconvenience anybody. 

That was my mother.  She was truly the kindest, most generous person I've ever known.  She always thought of others, and not just the people she loved.  She tried to make everyone feel that they mattered.

She never had an easy life.  Both of her parents had died by the time she was 12, and she spent the remainder of her childhood in an orphanage.  From the few stories she told us over the years, it wasn't a happy existence.  But I never heard a word of self-pity from her about it.

Life as an adult wasn't any easier.  My parents didn't have a happy marriage, but she stayed with my father as long as she could, thinking it was best for her six children.  But when she learned my father had terminal brain cancer shortly after she had finally divorced him, she dropped everything to take care of him.  I wasn't surprised. 

She walked almost everywhere.  She was a bundle of energy, usually walking quickly to get where she needed to go.  She never learned to drive, although she wanted to.  She gave up the idea when she started having seizures in her late thirties.  We didn't know it at the time, but they were most likely a symptom of what eventually caused her death.

As I read over this I realize it sounds sappy, but I want to pay tribute to my mother on what would have been her 72nd birthday.  I've really only scratched the surface, but it's more than I could ever have said while she was alive. She was a very private person and without ego. 

The day before her funeral, as my family and I made the trip back to my hometown, I prayed that God would give me a sign that she was in His loving arms in Heaven.  I watched.  I waited.  I prayed some more.  Just a small sign, a budding flower perhaps (it was only February, but she loved to garden--what could be more perfect?)  Nothing.  I felt devastated.  My mother was gone, and now I felt God had abandoned me, too.

I never got the sign I wanted that year.  In my backyard, I have a small bed of rhododendrons that have never bloomed, surrounded by irises I transplanted from my mother's garden twenty years ago.  Nobody has ever really taken care of them.  My husband has moved them around several times, and had actually tried to get me to discard the sad little irises a time or two.  No, I'd always say, give them another chance.  The year after my mother died, I walked outside one spring morning to find this:

I like to think that first year in Heaven, my mother was busy getting reacquainted with loved ones and learning her way around.  Only when she'd had a little time to relax was she ready to come down and tend to my little patch of heaven.