6 years…it’s okay

A warning to anyone who reads my posts normally…this is a break from my normal thoughts on personal development…this one is well, just plain old personal…

My mom passed away suddenly, of a stroke, 6 years ago today.  I forgot.  I mean, I didn’t forget she died, I just forgot today when I woke up that today was the day.  September always brings such hope with the start of the school year, with a new spring in my step, and then…

…something felt wrong.  Off.  On. Off.  Then a message from an old friend:  “Thinking of you.” and another “sending love and friendship today and always”. Right.  Right.  Today’s the day.  They remembered.  I forgot.

Maybe that’s a good thing?  Maybe it’s the most terrible thing ever.  Ever ever.  I’m now mad my husband didn’t remember.  That’s ludicrous.  Even as I’m thinking of it I’m realizing I’m projecting my own frustration and disappointment.  6 years.  SIX years.  What happens in six years?

Others who have asked me, when it happens to them, if it gets better…I say yes and no.  Because right now it’s no better.  But this morning, before I remembered, it was better.  It was.  Really.  Or was I just not thinking about how not better it is?

I miss her just as much.  And as the gap gets bigger I see how much she’s missing.  And how much I’m missing.  My little girl’s first words.  “Peas?” for please.  My son’s first spelling “DDD D!  It starts with the letter D!”  His first day of school is coming.  I can take a picture.  I have no one to send it to.

I sometimes still grab my phone and realize I have no one to dial.  I have no one that understands me the way she did.  No one to call when I have five minutes.  Where just five minutes is okay.  Where just five minutes is everything.

Six years.  I was a different person then.  The girl with the mom.  Now I’m the girl whose mom died.  Years ago.  Not as powerful anymore, right?  It was years ago.

But the thing is because it’s been years more things have happened that she has not been here for.  There are more reasons to miss her.  The hole has gotten bigger.  The wound has gotten deeper.

And yet.  I am my mother’s daughter.  Not one to dwell.  Not one to make others uncomfortable.  I’m fine.  I’m good.  I’m good!  I am healthy.  I am loved.  She loved me.  I loved her.  My last words to her were “I love you, mom”.  She knew, I knew.

Tonight I saw her twinkle in my little girl’s eye.  Sigh.  Tomorrow”s another day.  6 years and a day.  It’s okay.


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