So I’ve been blog awol for a while. I have to admit it’s pretty hard to come back to this place of fun, silliness, and random fires that, let’s be honest, is my life.
February 14th my mom died.
My mother was an amazing force in my life, she was my cheerleader, coach, backer, counselor, confident, and drinking buddy. Not having her in my life is crippling.
The only nice thing I can say about all this is… we had time.
We found out about mom’s “probably benign” tumor in February of 2017. We then had months of chemo, a blessed month of “it’s probably gone”, the return, and then the final 3 months of accepting the end was coming.
I can’t even begin to list all the things I will miss from not having my mom in my life. If any of you have lost a parent you know, for those of you that haven’t, get up, leave your computer behind, and go hug them so hard and for so long.
My mom didn’t hug, she squeezed. She would come right up to me, nose to nose, take each of my arms with her hands and… just squeeze. It’s like she was sending me all her love and strength and confidence through her hands and into my body. I loved that squeeze.
The day I said my final goodbye to my mom, we both knew, this was it, we weren’t going to see each other after that day. My mom got up and took both my arms in her hands. I was keeping a good, fake, front. Big smiles, false optimism, telling her I loved her and I’d call her when I got back home. It was then that my mom did the squeeze. The woman in front of me was a mere shadow of the woman she had once been, but that squeeze, that was an original. It felt like she had gathered all her remaining strength and was sending me her final surge of love and strength and confidence.
It broke me.
I got to my car, drove 2 miles, pulled over, and cried huge, suffocating, gut wrenching, sobs. I had known at that moment that she had given me everything, all of her, to carry forward and keep me strong through what was going to come.
It’s been 3 months and I miss her more each day. There are some days I don’t even want to get out of bed, or shower, or even talk. But on those days I take each of my arms in my hands and I squeeze, and I remember who’s daughter I am… and I go on.
To my mom, the woman who taught me all the important things in life.
Love you so Mona. Your Mom was a true original and the world is poorer without her in it. All the love and all the squeezes to you and your family. You have been in my thoughts so much these past months and I hope you know that if you need anything you have but to let me know.
I’m so sorry.
What a beautiful tribute, Mona. Tears, smiles, all my heart is with you during this unimaginably hard time. I love you, friend.
I can’t imagine. My momma is 86 and is still a spitfire. Drives fine. Lives in the same house as when she was first married. Climbs up and down the stairs. Takes baths in her century old claw foot tub. Has an iPhone and is on Facebook. In my head I know that her years are numbered (my sister and I are pretty sure she will out live us and we are 60 & 63). So not to have my mom around will be such a shock. I send you “arm hugs” from Minnesota. My dad died 28 years ago, and I remember how I felt the day he died. I wanted to stand on a mountain and just scream because everyone else was just going on as if nothing had happened…did they not know that my dad JUST died? That my world had just fractured? How could the world just be “normal”? And this from a woman who was not all that close to her dad!!! So no, I can not imagine how you must feel but my heart hurts for you right now. Take all the time you need. We will be here when you are ready…..
Lovingly put, thank you very much!
Oh hun, I am SO, so sorry. Sending you big internet hugs.