Mother's Day

Dear Mom,
It's our fourth Mother's Day without you...how can that be? We miss you so much. It's hard to believe it's been three and a half years since you left us for Heaven! Life goes on--because it must--but nothing is the same. I remember having conversations with you about this very thing, that the living must go on because the lives of other people are completely un-upended...but when it's personal, man is it ever personal.

Of course, there's nothing in particular that makes today any different from yesterday or tomorrow, it's just another day without you. Another day to be thankful for having had you, another day to chose to be happy that I had you for as long as I did. (I really suck at that last one, by the way. Like seriously, it's not good.)

I guess I just wanted to write down how much I miss you. I need you in new ways all of the time. New experiences pop up and I want your input and advice. There's still no substitute for Maxcine's wisdom! There's so much I want to tell you; so much I still need to know about you and lessons (and recipies!) for you to pass along. I realize again and again that you loved me so deeply and so sincerely and so completely. There's no one who loves a girl like her Mom. And this daughter misses her Mother. Today and every day.

I long for the day we will be reunited.

Love,
Heather

"I'm Home"

Right before my Mom died, she'd gone out to run some errands and when she returned home, she called my sister and left her a quick message letting her know that she was finished with her out-of-the-house tasks and that she was home for the rest of the day. Though I don't know this for certain, I suspect that her errands were related to the prospect of having a house full of visitors for the Thanksgiving meal. She loved Thanksgiving, and had started prepping food early in the week for Thursday's main event.

Shortly after her death, we were faced with the prospect of a MOUNTAIN of food. People always cook for the bereaved, and we were certainly grateful for the love shown to us through carbs and protein, but we were also wondering what to do with all of the food she'd cooked before her death. Some of it was frozen to enjoy at a later time, but some of it wasn't going to freeze well, so it needed to be eaten alongside all of the stuff folks brought to us.

I guess all I'm saying is this: the message she left my sister was simple and short. It said, "Hey Jen, I'm home." I remember exactly where we were when Jennifer asked me if I wanted to listen to that message. I said I didn't, thinking it would make me too sad.* I wish I would have listened to it. I don't know why that's eating me up right now, but it is. I can't even tell you how much regret is eating away at me for not taking the chance to hear her tell us she was home.

I once heard about a sermon on heaven and why we as believers should be excited about the prospect of spending eternity there. There's the stuff we're familiar with because of "When We All Get to Heaven" and "Holy Holy Holy" but there's also the prospect that we'll not just be in the presence of our savior, but also our loved ones. Heaven is home because people who know us and love us are there, waiting for us. Jesus has prepared a place for us and will come to take us there.

I'm ready.

*The irony is that I wasn't even really "sad" at that point...I was in the blissful stage of shock. Comparatively, I wasn't really feeling anything at that point. Sad didn't show up until much later, when I fully began to understand that she was gone and not coming back. Another aside: I still have to re-remember that death means I won't see her again in this life. Sometimes it's easy to think she's just...away, on a trip. (Don't judge me.)

Three Years.

Three years ago today, my Mom passed away quietly in her sleep. She'd not been ill or exhibited any kind of distress. She slipped from life into everlasting life sometime after she went to bed. In 2005, November 24 was Thanksgiving, and it was surreal, calling my friends and family to tell them the news. I remember calling my boss that morning to tell him and he was in the shower, I think. I simply told his wife K, "Um, okay. So, my Mom died. Would you tell him?"

Shock jacks up one's sense of etiquette.

The last thirty-six months have been by turns a blur and anger-filled and others have just crawled by with excruciating slowness but always there's the ever-present tap-tap-tap of grief dancing its sad rhythms; some weeks there were lots and lots of tears and sometimes there weren't any; I was comforted by my friends, I was frustrated by them and I know I caused a lot of frustration. There was lots of journal writing, and many Xanga entries chronicled my loss and healing.

I can't believe it's been three years. To think that it's been that long since I've heard her voice and hugged my Mom...it's heartbreaking. The thought of living the rest of my life without it is equally suffocating, if not moreso. In some ways, it seems like it's been far more than three years, but in other ways, her death is just as fresh as this morning's paper.

The stuff that was happening in my life in 2005 was big, paradigm-shifting stuff, and that was all before the Worst Thanksgiving Ever. There's a part of me that wants to go back to Before, but really, those days weren't all that grand. The stuff that plagued me then was such small potatoes in light of my family being forever changed, but I didn't know that of course. I sensed it, but thought, "what else could happen?" Um, my worst nightmare?

I know that God's character is good and that he uses tragedies for his glory and our good...I still struggle with this part of it. There's more to the story of course, but I'm struggling with this basic tenet of faith.

I miss my Mom. I haven't reconciled some stuff in my head and in my heart yet...I wonder if I will.

I is for in-laws.

No, I don't actually have in-laws. Not any in-laws of my own, anyway. The in-law relationship is a curious thing...a relationship borne out of marriage. I've seen all sorts of things modeled around me: great relationships between my friends and the women and men who raised their spouses. It's a beautiful thing. Or it can be anyway. Soon after my Mom died, I realized that the man I marry would never know my Mom. How sad and awful that the person I would grow old with would never meet my greatest earthly influence...meeting and knowing her would help him to understand me. That's less of a worry now (because I don't think marriage is in my future), but one that I still think of often.

I also used to spend time thinking/wondering about/praying for a mother-in-law who would love me like I was her own. I would want her to know that my Mom was amazing and because of her influence, I've seen what a good wife is...I know what a good wife looks like. She looked like my Mom. (I know she wasn't perfect, but she was a remarkable woman. She was a great wife to my Dad, and I wish I could tell her how much that example meant/means to me.) Getting to the place where I let go of the idea of being married someday is also letting go of the idea of having that Mom-figure in my life, and in such a special way. She would love me and I would love her and it wouldn't fill the hole created by my Mom's death, but it would provide a special sort of comfort just the same.

---------------------------------------------

Yeah, I know this is a strange post. Some of you are probably thinking that if I want in-laws so desperately, I'm welcome to yours. I kindly, and respectfully, say that I want your in-laws no more than I want your spouse. It's not about that, so much, as it is about family. I miss my family, the way we once were. I look at what's ahead and honestly, I'm struggling with trusting God. I feel like my Mom's death was a sucker punch and I don't trust him not to do it again. I want to rest in the knowledge that he works every single event and circumstance for my good (which is to be like him), but there's definitely a disconnect between what I understand the words to mean and what I believe is true. I know that God's nature is good. But this? How ...? I can't even find the words.

I is for in-laws, but it's also for Insecurity. I just looked up "insecurity" and was intrigued by the following definition: not firm or fixed, unsteady.

Yep. That pretty much sums it up.

wait a second.

I miss my Mom an awful lot today.

It's bad.

Yeah.

D is for dangit.

I just want to end the day without my tootsies hurting like crazy.

I'm in a bit of a melancholy mood today: I haven't slept well in several days and like I said, my feet hurt like mad. All of the time.

Stupid November.

right now.

I'm sad.

one thousand days

Yesterday marked one thousand days since my Mom died. I know, cognitively, that Wednesday was no different than Tuesday or today, but just knowing that it's been 1000 days makes it seem so far away. I miss my Mom so much. I see other people with their mothers and even my sweet friends who are mothers and it makes me miss her that much more. It's different than it was at the beginning, which is of course different than it was three or four months in--that's when the real rip-your-ears-off grief sets in. Every few months brings about a new stage of healing, but the ache never really goes away. It gets bigger to fill the empty spaces.

If your Mom is alive, would you call her and tell her how much you appreciate her and that you love her? If you are geographically close enough to her, would you please give her a hug and hold on extra tight, for an extra beat or two?

I miss my Mom.

lately.

Anyone who knows me even remotely well knows how, ahem, nervous I am around children. I have such conflicting feelings about being a mother myself, but I always come back to this one: I don't think I have what it takes. I don't think I'm selfless enough. I don't think I'm patient enough. I just don't think I can be the kind of parent I want to be.
Where's this coming from? Missing my Mom, mostly. I can't fathom going through something like that without her. I have so many fears…who else would I rather have than my Mom, always kind and with a ready answer? Of course, babies don't create themselves. By the time I reach that particular 40 week fork in the road, there will be a husband and perhaps a mother-in-law, who I hope that would love me as much as I love her. I just feel so unable.
I admit to wondering why I wouldn't get to go through something that scares me as much as it does (being a mom) without the aid of my Mom. Of all of the women out there, why me? I have tried not to ask God that particular question. I have. I know that I'm so sinful and full of flaws and he doesn't have much to work with in me, but why would he allow me to move forward through this stage in my life without my Mom?
There are some days when I just don't think about it, but there have been lots of days lately that I've spent wondering why.

There aren't any satisfactory answers.

"My name isn't 'Wibby'! It's 'Wibby'!"

The title of this post was spoken by Libby, my sweet friend. She's almost four and is very grown up and has an opinion about almost everything. She doesn't quite pronounce her "l" sounds just yet but she can certainly hear them (and hear it when YOU miss it). She is Mama's helper and is most likely to boss her sister around, but not because she's malicious. She just has an opinion.

Clara is simultaneously more laid-back than and more tightly wound than Libby. She hesitates to jump into the pool sometimes and doesn't dig the ocean's unceasing waves. She is a cuddler and asks about my family a lot. She asked about my Papa and I told her I had a sister, so she asks about Jen almost everyday. For the first time she asked me about my Mom yesterday...she asked about her name and if she was a good Mom. I replied with answers in the past tense. She then asked if she lived in Heaven and if I missed her. I looked at Michele and she looked back at me and I replied yes, and yes. I don't know HOW SHE KNEW. Michele said that she'd not had that conversation with her girls. Seriously, I don't know how she knew.

It was a strange and wonderful moment. And as is the case with little ones, just as soon as it was here, it was gone.


Speaking of my Mom, I woke up this morning kind of sad. And just in case you wondered, yes it is hard (but possible) to be sad whilst in paradise. I couldn't remember the sound of her voice. I can see her face and remember things she would say, but when the sound comes out, it is someone else's voice. Sometimes it's Jen's voice, sometimes it's someone else's, but not hers. This is the first time the memory has failed to come. It hasn't even been three years. I can't believe I can't find her voice in my thoughts. I want to remember. I just can't quite get it. It's not a good thing. It has been a really tough day because of that. I can't believe I can't remember. Crap.

I need a job. Ugh.

almost nine hundred days.

Here are the words of my oh-so-wise sister.

This weekend is typically a hard one for us since our mom passed away in 2005 but my sister and I are together this time and we are going to remember our Mom and laugh this year. My mom was amazing.
Ms. Max, as she was called by the kids at our ministry in Greenspoint, loved kids and she was so good with the difficult ones there, when she worked in KISD and volunteering in my classroom. Here are some memories and bits of advice from a woman whose name meant the "Maximum."
~EVERY TIME my mom saw us she always smiled, hugged us and was genuinely glad to see us. She was in love with Emeril Lagasse, Stone Phillips and Denzel. She loved my dad too but those guys were a very close 2nd. She told us that "nothing good comes easy and nothing easy shows how good you are" and "You are the only one that can make your day good or bad." A favorite memory of my time with my mom was in the car with her and hearing her sing My Redeemer by Nicole C. Mullen. It was one of those times that she "shouldn't" have known the words to the song but did and sang it from the beginning. I was so tickled I just laughed and sang too. Another time she had forgotten her phone and didn't answer for hours. She felt so bad and bought heather and I a "Don't be mad at your mother" purse to make it up to us. Yes, she was the Maximum and I have some big, cute shoes to fill. Her Legacy Lives on Forever!!! She even died with a smile on her face as she met her Savior, this time face to face.

The Saturday after she had passed away I was checking my voice mail. There was a message from her earlier that week but sums up her life. It was "Hey Jen, I'm home! See you later."

See you Mom. I miss you. I wish you were here but I know you wouldn't give anything up even if you could. Heather misses you too and so does dad. He is married now and so am I. You forgot to tell me how hard married life would be. You sure did train dad and take care of him well though. He had to learn so much after you left. All of us did. We still are. I just want to say thanks. I know I said it when you were here but I needed to say it again. Thanks. You have taught me to become the woman I am. Jenski

Missing Mom

I miss my Mom.

I miss her a lot.

Eight hundred eighty seven days.

It seems like an eternity. How will I make it another week, month, year? I can't even think of it.

Oh God help me.