Today I miss my Mom.
Don't get me wrong. I always miss her. But today the hurt is deeper.
Several years ago my Mom bought me a pair of wrought iron candle holders. They were outdoor candle holders on long stakes. Several brown lengths of iron twisted around one another forming a cup at the top. A thick glass votive with dragonflies etched on the side was held in that iron cup. They were almost too lovely to keep stuck in the ground outside exposed to the elements. I've always taken shallow pleasure in owning such pretty candle holders. And I was extremely pleased that I've managed to move so many times with these outdoor candle holders and not broken them.
They've survived four moves, including one across the country. But they couldn't survive Meaty.
He pulled one from the ground last night and dumped the votive out onto the cement patio, shattering the glass.
I was so upset. Not that he had broken the candle holder. I try to bear in mind that these are just things. I've always joked that I don't own anything that can't be replaced for five bucks. My home is very child friendly. I want my kids to live here, to touch, to run, to play, to know accidents happen. I wasn't upset over the loss of the candle holder. I was upset over the loss of something my Mom had touched.
The candle holder was something beautiful my Mom had bought. Something she had bought with me in mind. She saw this pretty curvy piece of iron and saw something in it that reminded her of me. So she bought it. And now it's gone.
And she will never again see something beautiful and think of me. I'm not saying this well. I'm not mourning the fact that my Mom will never buy me another candle holder. But that my Mom isn't here to think of me. Our relationship is gone. All that love and laughter and life is gone. She is gone and I still don't understand why.
All month long I have been assaulted with news stories and commercials with testimonials of breast cancer survivors. Women who have beat the odds. And I'm angry. I don't understand why all these women live yet my Mom died.
After my Mom died The Greatest bought me a gazebo. He bought it so I could sit outside in the sun and watch the children play and be sad. It was a place to go that had no memories of my Mom. She never sat in our "screen room." We never sat on my swing together talking and sharing. It was safe with no half-forgotten memories to assault me at every turn.
But now I live in a place completely devoid of my Mom. The town I live in wasn't even a name on the map to her. She never knew this place existed. She will never come visit. I will never go shopping at the local mall with her. I'll never get to show her my new favorite ice cream place. Our new life will never be shared with her. All my memories will be 100% Mom free. And it saddens me. It rips my soul with pain. It tears my heart apart. She is gone from my life so completely. I just can't understand it.
I dress the kids in clothes she bought fearing the day they outgrow them, because there will be no more. I can't bring myself to burn a candle she bought, because once it's gone that tangible evidence that she was here will be gone as well. How can she be erased from this earth so easily?
I know I can't hold sacred everything she once touched just because she touched it. But right now things are all I have. Even if they're broken, they're all I've got.