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Missing Mom: Four Years of Reflection
Today marks the fourth anniversary of my mom’s passing. While I no longer find myself crying at unexpected moments—like making beds or wandering the grocery store—I still instinctively reach for my phone to share a laugh when something funny happens. Yes, I mean the house phone, which I still cling to even though I hardly call anyone on it anymore. Even after 1,460 days, letting it go feels impossible.
Each year, I’ve taken time to reflect on how my life has changed in her absence, often centering my thoughts around my kids. Their growth, maturity (or lack thereof, thanks to their teenage antics), and the way they serve as my grounding force during this unpredictable phase of life have kept me focused. I sometimes wonder if they realize just how much strength they provide me.
This year, what weighs heavily on my heart is the significant shift in my emotional landscape. My feelings and reactions have transformed drastically.
What Frustrates Me
What truly frustrates me now? Listening to friends complain about their moms’ quirks or the minor inconveniences they cause. When they roll their eyes at the thought of a quick dinner with their moms or a routine doctor’s visit, I feel a surge of irritation. They simply don’t grasp the value of those moments. They have no idea how many would give anything for just one more day with their mothers.
A Silver Lining
And here’s the twist: I find happiness in the fact that my mom passed away young and unexpectedly. She was only 69 when the illness overtook her within six months. Before her diagnosis, she was vibrant, stylish, and full of life. She had this incredible charisma and a sense of humor that lit up any room. Even when she was sick, her spirit shone through as she circled items in store ads for me to pick up—her way of staying connected to the world she loved.
I take comfort in the fact that my last memories of her are of her lively self, not as a frail elderly woman. I won’t have the heart-wrenching experiences of seeing her slowly fade away or needing to care for her in a nursing home. Instead, she remains my glamorous, fun-loving mom, and that thought brings me joy. I know I’m not alone in holding onto this silver lining after losing someone too soon, and I have no regrets about it.
What Matters Now
As for what really matters to me now? It’s all about family. I keep a tight-knit circle because that’s what truly counts. Everything else? Not so much. I’ve let go of grudges, worries about weight, and the daily drama that seems to scream for attention. I ask myself, what’s the worst that can happen? When I reflect, I realize that most things, whether it’s a kid’s college choice or a spouse’s job loss, really don’t matter in the grand scheme of life. So I focus on the positives.
I miss sharing my life with her and wish she could see how amazing her grandkids are becoming, the new living room chairs I painted, or how long my hair has grown. But what hits me the hardest is when my youngest, sitting next to me, casually says, “This song reminds me of Nanny!” That’s what truly matters.
Further Reading
If you’re looking for more insights on home insemination, check out this informative blog post, or delve into details about the at-home insemination kits that are widely recommended. For a comprehensive overview of pregnancy, the CDC’s resource is a great place to start.
In summary, though the years have passed since my mom’s departure, her memory continues to shape my outlook, reminding me of the importance of family and the little joys in life.