Some days are bad.
Some days you can't help but cry. A lot. At everything.
Some days looking at pictures makes you sad, not happy.
Some days the hole inside you feels like it is growing. Like it is eating you from inside out.
Some days you don't want to remember the good times. It hurts too much. There will be no more.
Some days you can't hide your feelings from others.
Some days you can't even pretend to smile.
Some days are really hard. Harder then the day before.
Some days you feel like you could actually die from grief. From guilt. From Sadness.
Grief. Sucks.
But I know that Some Days don't usually last.
That tomorrow I probably won't cry so much.
Tomorrow I may be able to look at pictures.
Tomorrow may be hard. But Probably not as bad as today.
Some. Days.
Friday, January 27, 2017
Blurred Vision
So this is actually just a repost from my personal Instagram and Facebook account. I posted it on January 1, 2017. I am posting it here because it is true and really represents 2016 for me. So much of the last year has been a blur. I am shocked at how fast time has gone this year and yet so many memories are a blur. My heart hurts that a year Anniversary without my mom is approaching.
Dear 2016. You sucked beyond belief. Worst year of my life. Most of you is a complete blur. In spite of you I continued on. I still managed happiness and made happy, sweet and fun memories with my beautiful family. Even through the blur there are many spots of beautiful colors. There are smiles and love. I still won.
#It is what my mom would want.
Dear 2016. You sucked beyond belief. Worst year of my life. Most of you is a complete blur. In spite of you I continued on. I still managed happiness and made happy, sweet and fun memories with my beautiful family. Even through the blur there are many spots of beautiful colors. There are smiles and love. I still won.
#It is what my mom would want.
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| December 31, 2016 |
Tuesday, January 24, 2017
Who loves you the most?
Sometimes I actually cry because there is no one left in the world who loves me more then life itself. This probably sounds horrible. I have a husband who loves me. A lot, I think. Two kids who definitely love and need me. But, when I lost my mom, lets be honest, I lost the one person in the world who loved me the most.
I know this because I am a mom. I would walk out my front door in front of a speeding car to save their lives. Most moms I know would do the same. Dads too. But somehow it is not the same. Why do you think Mom Guilt is a real thing We tend to worry about everything for our kids. We worry about their health, their friends, their social well being, whether they get the part they want on the basketball, baseball, soccer team, school play. Whether we hover too much or too less. Whether they have too much homework or not enough. I have actually cried with my daughter as she was crying about a mean girl at school. Dad's love their kids but somehow they (usually) don't get as enmeshed. We moms are a certain kind of crazy and crazy love.
My mom loved me. I know that with every fiber of my being. And on top of normal mom love my Mom and I were especially close. It was just the two of us for a long time. And even when I grew up through those cranky teenage years I STILL liked hanging with my mom. So did my friends. She was a parent, but she was my friend. I actually still liked going out to eat and to a movie with my mom. And then I grew up and we became even better friends, best friends. We had fun together. We laughed a lot. We shared a sense of humor that is hard to find.
When I was 40+ years old and sick my mom would still bring me soup and magazines. She would call or text me at least 2x a day just "to see how I was feeling." When I was sad or down, she knew that too. She would call and talk to me about stupid stuff, The Bachelor or football, just to cheer me up. THEN She would ask if I was ok. I ALWAYS ALWAYS knew I could rely on my mom. She would always be there. It is kind of nice getting through this thing called life knowing that you have a person on your side who will always have your back. Someone who would change their whole life for you. Who would cry with worry and praise with love more then anyone. Who walk in front of a speeding car if need be.
When my mom died I felt like a piece of me had been torn out. I mean literally, physically, felt like a piece of ME had been torn out. I still feel a hole. I still have my family and friends. But deep down in my heart I lost the person who loved me more then anything in the whole wide world. As I met friends of my moms at her celebration of life, usually the first words out of their mouths, was your mom LOVED you so much. The second words were she loved her Grandkids so much. All she did was talk about you and those kids.
It is hard to explain this loss to others. Because it doesn't mean that I don't feel loved. Or that my husband, kids, friends and extended family don't love me a LOT. But the loss of my mom left a void that is pretty big. Losing the person who loved you most in the world is irreplaceable. And life changing. Not in a good way. It feels scary, actually. And kind of lonely. Even when surrounded by a bunch of people who love you. This is the stuff no one really tells you.
I know this because I am a mom. I would walk out my front door in front of a speeding car to save their lives. Most moms I know would do the same. Dads too. But somehow it is not the same. Why do you think Mom Guilt is a real thing We tend to worry about everything for our kids. We worry about their health, their friends, their social well being, whether they get the part they want on the basketball, baseball, soccer team, school play. Whether we hover too much or too less. Whether they have too much homework or not enough. I have actually cried with my daughter as she was crying about a mean girl at school. Dad's love their kids but somehow they (usually) don't get as enmeshed. We moms are a certain kind of crazy and crazy love.
My mom loved me. I know that with every fiber of my being. And on top of normal mom love my Mom and I were especially close. It was just the two of us for a long time. And even when I grew up through those cranky teenage years I STILL liked hanging with my mom. So did my friends. She was a parent, but she was my friend. I actually still liked going out to eat and to a movie with my mom. And then I grew up and we became even better friends, best friends. We had fun together. We laughed a lot. We shared a sense of humor that is hard to find.
When I was 40+ years old and sick my mom would still bring me soup and magazines. She would call or text me at least 2x a day just "to see how I was feeling." When I was sad or down, she knew that too. She would call and talk to me about stupid stuff, The Bachelor or football, just to cheer me up. THEN She would ask if I was ok. I ALWAYS ALWAYS knew I could rely on my mom. She would always be there. It is kind of nice getting through this thing called life knowing that you have a person on your side who will always have your back. Someone who would change their whole life for you. Who would cry with worry and praise with love more then anyone. Who walk in front of a speeding car if need be.
When my mom died I felt like a piece of me had been torn out. I mean literally, physically, felt like a piece of ME had been torn out. I still feel a hole. I still have my family and friends. But deep down in my heart I lost the person who loved me more then anything in the whole wide world. As I met friends of my moms at her celebration of life, usually the first words out of their mouths, was your mom LOVED you so much. The second words were she loved her Grandkids so much. All she did was talk about you and those kids.
It is hard to explain this loss to others. Because it doesn't mean that I don't feel loved. Or that my husband, kids, friends and extended family don't love me a LOT. But the loss of my mom left a void that is pretty big. Losing the person who loved you most in the world is irreplaceable. And life changing. Not in a good way. It feels scary, actually. And kind of lonely. Even when surrounded by a bunch of people who love you. This is the stuff no one really tells you.
Friday, January 20, 2017
Signs. Heart over Mind.
One of the most difficult things I have found about losing my mom is the absolute sudden cut off of any communication. The knowledge that I will never ever have a conversation or even an email or text from my mom is so overwhelming. I communicated with my mom almost daily. Sometimes it was just a text, "Artichokes are on sale at Trader Joes," "What time is the kids' soccer games tomorrow?" Normal everyday life stuff. The stuff that I took for granted. We all do. We should.
But looking back now, it is the normal take for granted stuff that I miss the most. It didn't even occur to me really until now, because the communication is gone, how involved we were in each other's lives. Who else, but my mom, would know that I wanted to know when artichokes were on sale. I have lost count of the times that I have actually reached for my phone to send her a quick text when I see something that I need to share with her. I have literally just stared at my phone with tears streaming down my face in the middle of Albertsons because I can't text her to tell her that her favorite Merlot is on sale.
I keep thinking if I could just talk to her one more time. If she could just tell me she was ok. That wherever you end up after this life is good. It's peaceful. She is happy. She can still see us. She knows when Artichokes are on sale. She just can't tell me.
So I started doing what I think a lot of people do when they lose someone close. They look for signs. Signs that my mom is still around me. She can see me. Her new way of communication.
The very first sign I ever received was shortly after her death. I was at this store that she had told me about because they had good prices on what else, wine. It's not my "normal store." I was there to buy wine (what else). As I stood in the checkout line, I looked in a bin nearby and there were hundreds of treat bars with the name JoJo on them. I literally just stared at them and almost felt weak in the knees. I had never ever seen these here before I had never actually ever heard of a bar called a JoJo. But My Mom's nickname, for the last 20 years or so for all the kids in the family, including my kids, was JoJo. This was my mom. I KNEW it. I bought at least 50 of the bars right then, with tears streaming down my face. The clerk thought I was nuts, but I felt happy. I KNEW it was my mom talking to me. She was telling me that she was still here. It was the first time, since her death, that I felt a real communication from my mom. IT FELT REAL.
I have seen and felt many signs since that day. I actually beg for them. I beg my mom. Sometimes I am ignored (or don't see them.) Sometimes, I believe that I get a response. One day, having a particularly hard day, I cried and begged my mom to give me a sign on a decision I was making. The next day, a distant relative emailed me about a "weird" dream she had had the night before. She described the dream where she watched my mom and I talking on a beach. The words she described to me were literally the words that I imagined my mom would be saying to me if we could still sit and discuss this decision. I finalized my decision the next day. It wasn't even a difficult one anymore.
Some of the signs, in my mind, I know are probably just me reaching Friends sending me statues saying that it reminded them of my mom and they had to buy it. Not knowing that I had taken the very same statue from my mom's house and had it next to my bed. On the first night of 2017 (was so ready to get the bad taste of 2016 off my tongue), the star and moon lined up perfectly in my mom's favorite position. The same symbol that she had tattooed on her calf. For Christmas, my Aunt went to her favorite nature center to get me a t-shirt. The normal t-shirts that she went to get that day were not there. Instead, that day, there were t-shirts about the meaning of a Dragonfly. Seriously. She had been in this store a million times. And that day, the t-shirts were about Dragonflies. My Mom.
It could be a coincidence. My Mind says of course that is what it is. But, doesn't it make life easier without your loved one to believe, and I mean truly believe, that they are signs. That in the only way she can, my mom is communicating.
However, grief is not that easy. While the signs do bring some happiness in that moment and for a few after, the happiness doesn't really last. Grief is not an upward progression. You don't come out of it because you get a sign one day. Some days, thinking about these signs actually makes me more sad. Because seriously, I went from daily communication to this? A sign, that may or may not be a sign. A sign that I am wishing with all my might is my mom, but really could just be life. The natural stage of the star and the moon, a store manager randomly ordering JoJo bars or Dragonfly t-shirts.
I guess it all depends on your frame of mind that day. No, That moment. It certainly makes going on with life easier believing these are really signs. If I didn't believe the signs, I would have to live with the fact that I really have literally been cut off from all communication from my mom. Forever. So I will continue to beg and look for these signs. I will let my heart, not my doubting mind, win this war. My mom can still talk to me. The Signs are her.
Even though I still don't have a mom. I still don't have anyone texting me that artichokes are on sale.
But looking back now, it is the normal take for granted stuff that I miss the most. It didn't even occur to me really until now, because the communication is gone, how involved we were in each other's lives. Who else, but my mom, would know that I wanted to know when artichokes were on sale. I have lost count of the times that I have actually reached for my phone to send her a quick text when I see something that I need to share with her. I have literally just stared at my phone with tears streaming down my face in the middle of Albertsons because I can't text her to tell her that her favorite Merlot is on sale.
I keep thinking if I could just talk to her one more time. If she could just tell me she was ok. That wherever you end up after this life is good. It's peaceful. She is happy. She can still see us. She knows when Artichokes are on sale. She just can't tell me.
So I started doing what I think a lot of people do when they lose someone close. They look for signs. Signs that my mom is still around me. She can see me. Her new way of communication.
The very first sign I ever received was shortly after her death. I was at this store that she had told me about because they had good prices on what else, wine. It's not my "normal store." I was there to buy wine (what else). As I stood in the checkout line, I looked in a bin nearby and there were hundreds of treat bars with the name JoJo on them. I literally just stared at them and almost felt weak in the knees. I had never ever seen these here before I had never actually ever heard of a bar called a JoJo. But My Mom's nickname, for the last 20 years or so for all the kids in the family, including my kids, was JoJo. This was my mom. I KNEW it. I bought at least 50 of the bars right then, with tears streaming down my face. The clerk thought I was nuts, but I felt happy. I KNEW it was my mom talking to me. She was telling me that she was still here. It was the first time, since her death, that I felt a real communication from my mom. IT FELT REAL.
I have seen and felt many signs since that day. I actually beg for them. I beg my mom. Sometimes I am ignored (or don't see them.) Sometimes, I believe that I get a response. One day, having a particularly hard day, I cried and begged my mom to give me a sign on a decision I was making. The next day, a distant relative emailed me about a "weird" dream she had had the night before. She described the dream where she watched my mom and I talking on a beach. The words she described to me were literally the words that I imagined my mom would be saying to me if we could still sit and discuss this decision. I finalized my decision the next day. It wasn't even a difficult one anymore.
Some of the signs, in my mind, I know are probably just me reaching Friends sending me statues saying that it reminded them of my mom and they had to buy it. Not knowing that I had taken the very same statue from my mom's house and had it next to my bed. On the first night of 2017 (was so ready to get the bad taste of 2016 off my tongue), the star and moon lined up perfectly in my mom's favorite position. The same symbol that she had tattooed on her calf. For Christmas, my Aunt went to her favorite nature center to get me a t-shirt. The normal t-shirts that she went to get that day were not there. Instead, that day, there were t-shirts about the meaning of a Dragonfly. Seriously. She had been in this store a million times. And that day, the t-shirts were about Dragonflies. My Mom.
It could be a coincidence. My Mind says of course that is what it is. But, doesn't it make life easier without your loved one to believe, and I mean truly believe, that they are signs. That in the only way she can, my mom is communicating.
However, grief is not that easy. While the signs do bring some happiness in that moment and for a few after, the happiness doesn't really last. Grief is not an upward progression. You don't come out of it because you get a sign one day. Some days, thinking about these signs actually makes me more sad. Because seriously, I went from daily communication to this? A sign, that may or may not be a sign. A sign that I am wishing with all my might is my mom, but really could just be life. The natural stage of the star and the moon, a store manager randomly ordering JoJo bars or Dragonfly t-shirts.
I guess it all depends on your frame of mind that day. No, That moment. It certainly makes going on with life easier believing these are really signs. If I didn't believe the signs, I would have to live with the fact that I really have literally been cut off from all communication from my mom. Forever. So I will continue to beg and look for these signs. I will let my heart, not my doubting mind, win this war. My mom can still talk to me. The Signs are her.
Even though I still don't have a mom. I still don't have anyone texting me that artichokes are on sale.
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