I feel like rambling for a little while. I used to keep a journal on my last computer, but my ex husband found it and ridiculed me for it, so I deleted it and let the idea go. It was 4 yrs of writing. 4 years of SAD writing , but a long time no doubt. I had at the time dreamed of writing a book, and much of what I had journalized was to be reference material so to speak. So much for that idea.
Now I am free to do so again, and I do love to write. To anyone that knows me, they would say I love to talk, and they would also be correct. But when I have no one to talk to, I write.
I am almost 50, will be in January. It’s a hard fact for me to get my arms around sometimes. I don’t feel it. I look it, I know. I see what looks back at me from the mirror every morning. My mind disagrees tho. My mind swears its still in the 80’s, my children are all still little, in grade school, and I cannot explain how I have all these memories and experiences behind me, when I’m only about 28! 
Somedays, my body feels just as good as it did when I was in my 20’s and 30’s. Then the cold sets in like now, and I feel my arthritis in my knees, wrists, my hips, my ribs. (Yes – my ribs! I have x-rays to prove that.) It’s true that our bodies betray us – and our minds are capable of living so much longer than our bodies. If our bodies would keep up with our minds, we might live to be hundreds of years old.
But the things I have seen in my 50 yrs. No I am not a centurian, and I do not expect to be either.
But still! I have lived longer than my mother, who, God rest her soul, left me when she was only 46. I was 25 when she died. Lord was that a shock. We had our ups and downs, God knows we did, but in the last 8 yrs of her life, we became the best of friends. I think I learned more from her in the last 8 yrs I had her, than I did the previous 38. Why? Because I finally figured out she was my friend. I learned because I was open to what she had to teach me. We stopped being at loggerheads with each other, (which was 99% my fault) and I opened my heart to her.
My biggest regret is that I let life intervene. I was 25, I had 3 young children, 2 under 5 yrs old, I was a working mother. My husband was a truck driver, and gone most of the time, so I had the responsibility of being both mother and father to my children. This was a responsibility that I accepted gladly, because I knew that his job was not an easy one either. So I was up at 3:30 every morning, getting me ready for work, the two youngest ready to go to daycare, Heather ready for school. Drop them off by 6:15 every morning, at work before 7am. Off work by 4pm, pick all 3 up from daycare by 4:30, go home, fix dinner, eat, bathe them, get homework done, clean up dinner, get all 3 into bed by 8pm or so. Inbetween all this, I had laundry, house work, shopping, and trying to be a concerned, loving, committed, caring set of parents. Life intervened.
I do not say all this to offer an excuse. It was what it was. It is the same today for every mother with small children. It is life getting in the way, and it does. You do what you know you have to do because you have responsibilities, and when the day is done, you have more to do but no more time. So it snowballs into tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
What do I see now, with my ‘older-woman’s’ perspective? I took care of my responsibilities the best I knew how, I was the best mother and father I had it in me to be. But I didn’t nurture the relationships in my life the way I should have, the way I wanted to. I missed my mother very much, and she only lived 20 minutes from me! Both of my brothers as well. My mom would call me to talk and I wouldn’t take 20 minutes to just chat with her. Oh, I talked to her – but I didnt talk with her. When she wanted to do things with me and the kids, we did them, but not the way I knew she wanted to do it. She was adjusting to my schedule. She was accomodating me and what I saw to be important even though she knew better than I. When we are young we have so much optimism and faith in our futures that we don’t realize its slipping away from us one day at a time, until one day we wake up and look in the mirror; we see an old man or woman staring back at us, and we realize our children are grown, perhaps they have children of their own - and that future we kept reaching for when we were young? It’s now in our past! Where in the world did it go? There were so many things I wanted to do and I didn’t get to do them all! (I am reminded of Kenny Chesneys new song “Don’t Blink” It’s so true!!)
The day my mother had her stroke is burned into my memory so deeply, I can remember details of it so clearly it’s like it just happened. It was a Saturday, and I’d had to work that morning. Til 11 am. I had an appt at 1pm at Olan Mills, to see the proofs of my sons first professional pictures. I was running late, tryin to get all the kids together to go down and see them. Terry was on his way out of town, to Roosevelt, Ut. with a load of milk. I had the kids mostly ready to go, and the phone rang. Thinking it might be Terry, I answered the phone. It was my mother and she wanted to chat. I talked to her for a few minutes, but remember – this was 1984 and most people didn’t have cordless phones yet. I couldn’t get all the things done that I needed to do right then while I was on the phone. So I begged off the call, explaining what I was in the middle of and promising to call her back later in the afternoon.
We went and saw the proofs, then I needed a few things at the store so we stopped there on the way home. (Life intervening again!) Other tasks presented themselves and I forgot to make the promised phone call. Later that evening, while the kids were eating dinner, she called back. Again I was distracted, but I tried to talk to her this time. But something was wrong. She wasn’t making any sense. Then she was. Then she wasnt again. Then she was. When I say she wasn’t making any sense, I mean literally! It sounded to me like she was talking in a foreign language. The next sentence would be english, then the jibberish again. Then english, then jibberish. I asked her several times during that phone call if she was alright, and every time she said yes. Then about 15 minutes into the call, she said she was tired and was going to bed. I told her to call me if she needed anything, and said that I loved her. She said she loved me back, and told me she would call me tomorrow because she wanted to see the pictures of the baby. I was worried because I didn’t know why she was talking that way, and apparently didn’t realize that she was doing it. But I was young and dumb, and had no idea that was a MAJOR SIGN of an impending stroke.
Two hours later, my little brother, Ed, called me and said she had collapsed in the bathroom and he couldn’t rouse her. I told him to hang up, call 911, and I was on my way! I got my neighbor to stay with the kids, called my sister in law, and made the 20-25 minute drive to my moms house in 11 minutes!! But it was too late.
After my mom passed away, I shut down for a while. Oh I know I did all the things that I was supposed to do. I continued to raise my children, go to work, take care of my family and my home. And my youngest brother, since he was only 14 yrs old, and I had promised my mother some 6 mos before her death, that I would finish raising him if something were to happen to her. But I have memories only in small snapshots in my mind of the next 8 mos. Most of it was and still is a fog. I dont remember my son’s first birthday. I dont remember my second daughters 5th birthday. I don’t remember my 26th birthday, or hardly any of that spring or summer. I know that my husbands family helped me out tremendously. My mother and father-in-law were very supportive. My sister-in-law, Kathy, was simply amazing. My brother, Mike, turned into my best friend overnight. If it hadn’t been for family and friends that year, I don’t think I would have made it. No – let me correct that. I KNOW I wouldn’t have made it. I was in a fog of grief and pain so thick, so heavy, I was emotionally paralyzed – I SHUT DOWN. I couldn’t afford to feel anything – because when I did – all I could feel was a hole in me that was bigger than anything else in my world. The worst part of it was guilt. I had let 46 years of a most precious life – precious to me in a way that no other ever would be – slip away – and I had not honored that life the way it should have been honored. I had not respected that life the way it should have been respected – the way it deserved to be respected. She was my mother – and she was gone – and all I wanted was to hold her one more time – to say ‘I’m sorry, Mama’ for so many things. “I love you, Mama” with every breath I take – with every step I make. I wanted to make her laugh again, to see her blue eyes smile, to see her hold and love my children with what I know was the same tenderness and caring that she held me and my brothers with. I wanted her back!
For months, every night, before I went to sleep, I would talk to her, tell her about my day, the way I had always wanted to when she was alive. The way I didnt always take the time to. I gave her reports on the kids, my little brother, Ed, Mike, his wife Teresa. Then I would cry myself to sleep, almost every night. Even when Terry, the kids dad, was home. He would hold me and just let me cry it out. I couldn’t forgive myself! The weight of guilt is enormous! Far too heavy to bear. I had, in my mind, been an awful daughter! I had let her down. I had hurt her too many times. I had disappointed her all my life.
I am VERY GOOD at beating myself up, in case you want to know. This grief, and guilt that I bore, was a weight around my neck for the next 5 years!! It took me that long to begin to forgive myself for the things I now know she had long ago forgiven me for. And as I have grown older, and my girls and my son have grown up, I have realized that she forgave me all the things I beat myself up for pretty much as soon as I did them. I know this, because as my children grew, and unintentionally did and said things that hurt me, I forgave them the same way she forgave me. Instantly, immediately. It’s what a mother does. It’s all part of a mothers’ love. It IS unconditional.
But how in the world was I to go on in this life without that love? No one ever loves you like your mother, and you never love anyone the way you loved your mom! I still needed her! I needed her guidance, her wisdom, her humor, her input. I needed her arms around me, and her kisses, and the comfort of her voice whispering in my ear that it would be ok.
Even as I write this, I am crying. My mother had been my anchor in life. The one constant I had always been able to count on, even when I wouldn’t admit it. She was the only one who had always been there thru every crises I had been in – right up until her death. Time does heal all wounds, it is true. Sometimes however, it takes a long time to learn to quit picken the scabs.
This next January 9, my mother will be gone 25 years. Exactly half of my life! It’s actually not as bad now. I usually only break down completely once a year now, on Mothers Day. Her birthday was May 29th, and Mothers Day is always just a couple of weeks before that, so the month of May really sucks for me. I can now think of her, and do so often, without crying. I can smile without tears in my eyes most of the time. Without that tightening in my throat that won’t let me swallow, and won’t let go of my neck. Christmastime is always hard for me cuz I think of her, and ask her to be there with me as I celebrate our Lords’ birthday with my children and their families. I know she is there. January is hard, cuz it’s the anniversary of her death. But May? That’s the worst by far. It’s easier now that my girls are mothers, and my daughter-in-law – wonderful woman that she is – I love you Aubrey! – has my youngest grandson – and I can celebrate them being mothers. It takes the edge off. But nothing will ever erase the pain of not having my mother in my life anymore.
I know that when I leave this world, she will be waiting for me with open arms, and a kiss, and a stern reprimand for all the tears I have shed for her! And again, I will cry, but with tears of joy in being reunited with her. This is one of the reasons I do not fear death. In many ways I look forward to it, because of the people I have lost that I will be reunited with. I so look forward to seeing them again. Yet I will regret what I will miss by leaving those still here behind. You trade one for the other. The circle of life.
This was by far the biggest crises in my life. All the others that I have been thru, I came thru, and no longer cry for them. My 3 divorces, seperations with my children, lost friends. All hurts to be sure, but nothing on a scale such as this one. Yes, I have grown stronger for it. I prayed for strength when I had my son, and to give me the strength I needed to overcome my fear of being a mother to 3 young children, he took my mother; knowing that I would have to grow stronger, because I no longer had her to lean on. I would have no choice, and I didn’t. Not only did I learn to cope with raising my 3 children on my own, for quite a bit of the time, I also got a taste of what a teenager would be like in my little brother. Which I seriously think God did on purpose, because He knew I was gonna need a heads up with my own 3 becoming teenagers much sooner than I had planned on! (LOL that always seems to happen!)
Mama? I love you! I always have, and I always will. All the strength I have in me, I attribute to you! You had many more obstacles to overcome than I did, just in coming into this world, let alone surviving in it for 46 years. You are the strongest woman I have known in my life, right up until my own daughters became women. I know you are as proud of them as I am. You have seen your great-grandchildren I know. Aren’t they beautiful?
There is a poem on the page titled ‘My Children’ called IF I KNEW. It is dedicated to the memory of my mother, and also to my children. It is so true, and because of how I felt after my mother passed away, I try to always say what I feel to those I love while I have the chance; because tomorrow is promised to no one.
I love you Mama.
