My mom’s birthday is next week. We should be planning to celebrate her birthday with corn on the cob from a farmstand, and key lime pie for dessert. She wouldn’t have cared about any other part of the meal, just the corn and the pie. She loved her key lime pie! I think I may perhaps make a key lime pie, and celebrate her life anyway.
July 25 will be 2 years since she died. Sometimes it takes my breath away just how very much I miss her- and it seems like an absolute eternity since she left us.
Other times, I know she’s in a happy place, and not suffering, and I’m happy for her. I can smile and share stories of her with my children, sometimes without a single bit of sadness nor a hint of tears. Sometimes, when I’m not paying attention, it feels like she’s barely been gone at all. She kind of sneaks into things still, even now, 2 years later.
Today, in a suitcase. Yesterday, in a bin with some makeup brushes. Today, I wept. Yesterday, I laughed. You see, my mom travelled often in her last position, fighting hard to advocate for those with disabilities, all over the country. She had this awesome suitcase with all sorts of bells and whistles, and I realized last night that I’m going to be needing a much bigger suitcase for my trip than I’d anticipated. So I went to the basement and dug this one out, having totally forgotten dad gave it to me.
Opening it up, there was a little cosmetic bag. Nothing fancy, nothing special- but hers. True to mom, there were crumpled receipts, some coins and 3 different scented travel lotions. And her scent. Or the memory. It just took me by surprise, how strong her presence was just then.
I wept. I laughed. Laughed, because in my head I can hear my dad getting annoyed with both mom AND me for not putting things away when we were done with them- she never did. She probably had 20 cosmetic bags, many probably went to charity for donation right along with the bags they were stuffed into. Silly mom.
Yesterday, I laughed and laughed because apparently when helping mom go through some of her stuff in her bathroom on my last visit with her, we’d found some of her very old Mary Kay eye shadows. If you know Mary Kay at all, when I tell you they were the ones that you wet a brush and applied that way, in a pink compact, you will understand we’re talking 20+ year old eyeshadow. My mom very rarely wore makeup. Like once every 5-10 years wore makeup. Somehow I’d managed to stick one of the eyeshadow compacts into my stuff, and didn’t see it again until yesterday. Barely used, crumpled up and dried out like a desert. I had to laugh. Had to.
It felt good to laugh- too often, I cry. I miss her tons.
Sometimes, I wonder: What are MY kids going to laugh at when I’m gone? What are my crazy quirks that will make them groan, or roll their eyes, or blink really fast to fight back tears?[ad#glam between posts]
Tahnee CM says
Brett, you totally made me smile and weep, with this beautifully written post. Big hugs to you, on missing your mom! And I too, now, am wondering what my kids will think of me one day too :o)
queenb says
Thanks, Tahnee!! I’m pretty sure they’ll roll their eyes at much of my silly jokes and songs….to say the least LOL
Patti says
Your post made me both laugh….and cry. My dad passed away this time of year, 30 years ago. He has been gone longer than I knew him and yet, some little thing will still bring him back with a clarity as if it was yesterday. I became a grandma 3 weeks ago and I did the same thing with my grandson that I did with his father when he was born….I held him up toward heaven so my dad could see him and I know he did. So rejoy in these memories, they are your past and your future but mostly they are the heritage that we pass on to the next generations.
Kat says
I never quiet know what to write in a comment on a post like this. I will tell you though – it is an absolutely beautiful post and I’m glad that you can think back and laugh at these moments. Although at times it is therapeutic to cry as well. I can’t imagine losing either one of my parents…
Tabitha @ Saving Toward A Better Life says
Oh sweetie, I’m crying with you! My mother has been gone three years (in fact, the anniversary of her death fell on Easter Sunday this year.)
I know how you feel about the time. Some days it feels like it’s been an eternity and other days it feels like she was just here. Some nights when I drift off to sleep it’s like it’s April 23, 2008, and I just saw her, just talked to her. And when I wake up in the morning it’s like it’s April 24, 2008, at 6:30am when my aunt knocked on my door…
I’m so sorry! It’s so very hard!
Mara says
Big (hugs) to you. I’m sorry for the loss of your mom. And I love your question about what will your kids laugh at about you when you are gone? It’s a great question – I now wonder the same thing!
queenb says
Thanks Mara :o) I do wonder. ha. and what will they laugh at about their dad? funny to think about it!
Rosann says
I’m all choked up reading this post. I don’t know why, but the subject of not having my mom around for much longer seems to be heavy on my heart. She is still fairly young and healthy, but I haven’t seen her in two years because of a cross country move that we made, her absolute fear of flying, and a financial hardship that we are enduring. God seems to be putting her in my thoughts more and more the past few days. She is single and lives alone. It must be time for a phone call to make sure she’s doing Ok.
I’m so sorry that you only have the memories of your mother to embrace. It must be very difficult to know her birthday is approaching, to think of how long its been since her passing and to miss her so much. I can’t even imagine…
Mom’s are SO special, aren’t they? Praying for you, my friend…
Many blessings,
Rosann
queenb says
Thank you for your kind words, Rosann <3 Tell your mom you love her one extra time tonight!!