Monday, April 21, 2008

So today's the second anniversary of the day my Mom died. It's a very surreal kinda morning. Last year was surprisingly easy. I thought to myself (and this might sound callous) "She's already dead. What more can they do? They can't take her away again." And my day was quiet. I played with my children. I ate lots of chocolate. I sewed like my Mom did. It wasn't a great day, but it wasn't the worst day.

But this year is subtly different. There's nothing about today that is different from yesterday. I woke to the same giggly baby kicks I awoke to yesterday. The same pretty girl was standing by my bedside with yet another crazy question that made me internally groan wondering why these things could never wait until the sun was up. (Why does she only ponder the nature of the universe before six a.m.?) I'm sure when all my children are awake my house will be filled with the same laughter, hugs, whining, and occasional tears that make every day simultaneously different and mind numbingly the same (behold the joys of motherhood!).

Yet this morning is harder than yesterday. Harder than last year. It is almost as if I didn't realize until now how completely permanent this situation is. Nothing in my life has been this set in stone. I will never see my Mother in this life again. That's it. Never again. There is no miracle. No do over. No one will save the day in the final moment to change this. The time for miracles is past. And every day that marches on, every turn of the calendar, makes this clearer in my mind. And it just isn't fair.

Time marches on. Life moves on without her. In theory this is a good thing. We can not wallow in grief. She wouldn't want that. But not a day goes by that I don't think of her. Not a day passes that I don't miss her. It usually doesn't descend into wallowing, but sometimes the ache is sharper than other times.

Today is it razor sharp.

I miss my Mom.

But don't worry. I won't sit and wallow today either. In a fit of insanity, knowing full well what today is, I told my friend I would watch her two year old twins today. I love them, they're excellent children, but they're lively in a way my older children have outgrown. I must go lock the yarn cabinet and put away the step stool I keep in the bathroom. They should be here in an hour.

Whatever day today turns out to be, it will not be dull.

And life marches on.....

13 comments:

lynda said...

I'm so sorry today is extra hard. It's always a rude wake up when something you thought you've figured out how to go on with/without suddenly hits you like a ton of bricks. Sometimes it's the anniversary of a date... like it is for you today, and sometimes it's out of the blue. You'll be in my prayers today :o)

Corrina/rincaro said...

I don't what else to do but send hugs and hope that today will be more giggles than tears.

turtlegirl76 said...

Sending comforting thoughts and hugs your way.

Dani said...

I hope your day ends up being as good as it can be. I'll be thinking about you today.

Laura said...

And I hope that when the voices and the clamor and the joy of the children have all gone to bed this evening, that you can feel an inexplicable, but very present, sense of peace.

Bezzie said...

My thoughts go out to you today. Squish your herd of kids extra tight today.

shiguy4076 said...

I'm sending you big hug with lots of love. I can't say anything that will make it better but know that I love you like a true sister and I love your family. I miss you.

PS
You're very brave to take on twins 2yr old twins. I commend you Shi

rita said...

I love the mind-picture of a beautiful little girl waking you up with a cosmic question, of the baby kicking and giggling, and the idea of you inviting over twins to add to the activity you already have. You're a good woman, sweetie!

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Candyce said...

You are a very special daughter. What you feel is because you are a loving person. Here I am...many years older than you...and yet I enjoy your blog so much because you put into words what I have felt. I needed that.

So by your reaching out and talking about how you feel you know that you are not alone and that your posts helps others.

Candyce

Tere said...

What a sweetie you are. Thank you for saying so many things that is so hard for us to put into words after a loved one passes. I know your mom would be so proud of you. Love ya!

Lisa said...

I know it's been awhile since that post but wanted to express my heartfelt condolences since losing your mom. Death is certainly our Enemy.

I lost my own mother when I was just 17 months old. I am not over 40 and I have never gotten "over" not having had her in my life. I am now a gramma for the first time and I think of all the things my mother never got to experience. One of them is her one daughter becoming a wife, mother and a gramma.

But, I have a wonderful hope that keeps me going and joyful.

I wish you the same.

Lisa said...

oops, I AM over 40.