Missing my mother... one year later.

January 17, 2013.   Today is the one year anniversary of my mother's death.

If you missed earlier posts about my wonderful, warm-hearted, fiesty, always sassy/sometimes brassy, totally endearing, blingtastic, fiercely-loving mom, please look HERE, HERE and HERE for some of my favorite "[Amazing] Grace" stories.

Someone recently said simply, "Grace was quite a gal."  Yeah... she was.  She really was.

It's hard for me to believe she's been gone a year now.  A whole year without her?  How can that be?

We were very blessed and fortunate that she had 88 wonderful, healthy years.  That was a gift that I am thankful for every day. She was living independently in her own apartment, active, driving, visiting with friends, and enjoying her life until she got sick in mid-November, 2011.  She died 2 months later, on January 17, 2012 -- in my home, with Hospice support and family caregiving.

I think of her every day, and although I am grateful for all the years and memories we had together, I miss her every day -- so very much.  And I know I always will.

I thought about her when my daughter graduated summa cum laude with her Master's Degree in Social Work.  Mom would have LOVED to have shared in that.  She was always so proud of each of her 6 grandchildren and 3 great-grand-children.   None of them ever had a greater fan.

I thought about her when my sister and my daughter and I traveled recently to Maryland to visit our other sister.  My mom would have LOVED that. She'd have probably gone along, too, the Queen Bee Riding Shotgun.

I thought about her when my husband and I recently spent two weeks in Cancun;  I made a Photo Journal of that vacation and since my mother ADORED photos, she would have LOVED that!

I thought about her when my sisters, our husbands and I recently made plans for an upcoming Arizona vacation together.  Mom probably wouldn't have gone along on that trip (in her later years she really shied away from flying) but she would have been thrilled that "her girls" were vacationing together, and she would have expected (and received!) daily updates (phone calls AND emails), and of course a copy of every photo any of us took.

I think about her every time I have spaghetti with really chunky meat sauce; it was her all-time favorite food EVER.  In fact, sometimes I make spaghetti (with really chunky meat sauce) -- just because.

I miss her when something good happens because she would have rejoiced with me in that wonderfully unselfish way that only mothers can.

I miss her when something is troubling me, because she always patiently listened to me, and genuinely shared any sadness I felt.

I miss her when I have a question about my dad, or my grandparents, or about how things were in our family before I was old enough to remember... those kind of questions now will always remain unanswered.

I miss her when something silly happens, or I read or hear an especially funny joke.  She loved to laugh.  We had the same quirky sense of humor, and she and I would frequently *CRAAAACK UP* over things that other people barely found funny.

I miss her whenever I see bright, glitzy, over-the-top scarves and jewelry. She LOVED that, and she had a totally inimitable style -- colorful and unique (and always sparkly!)  I think of her hundreds of times every day.

Life changed a year ago when she died, and it's sad and sobering to know that it will never be the same.   But yet, in many ways, she still lives on, in me and my sisters... and in our children.  Those thoughts, along with the many memories, photos and letters I have and cherish are what help me to live without her. 

I love you and I miss you, Mom.   So very, very much. 
And I always will.

Grieving is Not for Wimps

If you read my last post, you know that my mother died in January. She'd been with us in our home, with Hospice support, for a month before her death.

I think about her and miss her every day.  In ways large and small, she is always still *right there*... in my mind, and in my heart.

Apparently sometime when I wasn't looking, the traditional, well-known "5 stages of grief" became 7 stages.  I do agree.  I never thought that denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance could really encompass it all... and that was before I'd ever even had this kind of up close and personal experience with grief.  The 7 stages of grief, according to recoverfromgrief.com are: shock and denial; pain and guilt; anger and bargaining; depression, reflection and loneliness; the upward turn; reconstruction and working through; acceptance and hope. 

Yeah... I'd say that pretty much covers it all.

I'm surprised at how accurate that is.  I don't think I ever really felt the anger and bargaining part... but other than that... oh yeah.  Been there.  It is getting easier, though.  Thank goodness or I'd have never lived through it.  The first 2 weeks were horrific.  Truly torturous, suffocating pain.  The next two weeks, not much better, but at least I could breathe.  Then slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, I started to feel better.  Hour by hour, day by day, the veil of hurt started to lift a little.

Oh, it hasn't gone away... and I know it never fully will.  And I wouldn't want it to.  But I also know that she wouldn't want me to feel that way forever, either.  She would hate that.

So I'm carrying on... trying to be strong... trying to learn to live without my mother.  *sigh*   I guess I'm doing OK.

A few things really blindsided me, though.  Once she was gone, every photo, every letter, every little memento of her took on such new significance with me.  Pictures I had for years suddenly became incredibly precious, because the dawning reality was: there would be no more.

And every morning at 8:00 I still think, "Time to call Mom ---"  Oh.

Every time I drive by her apartment building, I still think, "I'll stop and visit Mom ---"  Oh.

When I'm planning dinner for family or friends, I still think, "I want to invite Mom ---"  Oh.

When I read or hear a corny joke that I know she'd love, I still think, "Gotta tell Mom ---"  Oh.

I wonder how long that will last?

My humble (though admittedly rookie) advice to others who are dealing with grief after losing someone they love?  Be gentle with yourself.  Give yourself time.  Take a nap, take a walk, take a bath.

Keep a journal, if that helps you.  Two weeks after my mom died, I wrote her a letter.  I knew she wasn't ever going to read it, but it helped me immensely to put all those powerful, swirling emotions and feelings down on paper, giving them identity and a voice.

Treat yourself and others kindly.   I think that is so incredibly important.  Sometimes when we are in terrible pain, the human tendency is to strike or lash out at those closest to us.  Try not to forget to appreciate and cherish those who are still with you.

Allow yourself tears, but remember it's OK to laugh and smile, too.

But most of all, find peace and joy in remembering -- because every precious memory that you carry in your heart means that in some very special way, they are still with you.



Top photo credit:  HERE