On June 2, 2013 my mother went home to be with the Lord. She fought cancer valiantly and left a hole in my heart and life that will never be filled.
Mama never had an easy life. But she also never complained. When we were little I remember her always being active. She never sat around. She was always cooking, cleaning, gardening, or playing with us. She loved flowers and she had numerous flower beds that she would tinker around in while we would run around playing. Once I decided to help her weed one of her flower beds. I was so sure I was helping her out. I went out and spent about 30 minutes pulling every single weed out of her flower garden. Then I went inside and grabbed her hand, dragging her outside to show her my handy work. When we got out the front door she exclaimed "JULIE! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"
"I pulled the weeds"
"You pulled the flowers!" And she laughed.
That was always one of our fondest memories. We'd laugh about how I pulled all of the flowers out of her garden and left the weeds. I would tell her that the weeds looked prettier to me. And she'd remind me that she did thank me for trying to help. And that's the way it was with mama. Whenever life threw a curve ball at her she laughed and went on. I think it was her faith in Jesus that gave her such strength and inner peace.
Once she was diagnosed with cancer I'm sure she had bad days. I remember calling her one day and asking how she was doing. "I'm fine" She had been crying, but that was always her answer. She was always fine. Even when she wasn't. And I would playfully tell her "Liar" And we'd both laugh. After she was diagnosed my siblings and I went to her house to have a meeting. Sort of an "Oh Lord, what do we do now?" thing. And I asked her if there was anything that she wanted to do. Any "bucket list" type opportunities or activities that she wanted to get out of the way. "No, " she said, "I've done it all" I couldn't fathom this at first. How could that be so? She never lived in the fancy houses that I know she dreamed of. She never had a fancy car. We had talked about traveling the world together. We never got to do that. But thinking back on it now, all mama ever wanted was time with her kids. And that was enough for her. That was enough to make her content. As my kids begin to move out I can understand this sentiment.
One month and a week after mama passed away my beautiful baby girl moved out. She had graduated high school and wanted to move in with her boyfriend. She's 17 and I probably could have guilted her into staying home. I could have begged and pleaded, brought up the fact that I just lost mama. And she would have stayed. But she would have been angry with me. And I don't think it would have made a difference in the long run. Sooner or later she was going to move out and begin her life on her own. And probably sooner rather than later. And it would have been just as hard then as it is now.
Yesterday (Wednesday, July 10) we loaded all of Amanda's boxes into my van and I drove her to her boyfriend's house. He lives about a 45 minute drive away and we planned to drop her off when I took my nephew to his therapy, which is about 10 minutes away from her boyfriends house. I had a week to prepare myself for this, but a year wouldn't have been enough. When she took the last of her boxes into his house I broke down. I tried really hard not to leave her crying but it was just impossible.
I spent the next couple of hours at therapy, driving, feeding animals, and just generally trying not to think about what had just happened. But when I finally got home and went in my house it was impossible not to think about. Therapy is every Wednesday and most days Amanda went with me. After the hour ride there, home, and an hour sitting in the waiting room she was always full of energy. The first thing she would do when she came in was start up some music and start dancing in my living room. She'd pester me about working out with her. "You gonna work out with me today mama?" I had a litany of excuses. I was too tired, had too cook dinner, needed to clean house. I wish I had danced with her more and made excuses less.
So when I came into my now empty house (my boys were both gone to friends for the night) it hit me full force. My baby was gone. She wasn't going to dance around my living room anymore. She wasn't going to needle me into working out with her or unload the dishwasher while I started dinner. And so I cried. Thankfully my son saw a post of mine on facebook and called. "You want some company mom?"
"YES PLEASE!"
He and his girlfriend came and spent the afternoon with me. They left about 10 minutes before my husband came home and he held me while I cried myself to sleep.
This morning I went into her room to check out what she'd left behind. I saw the fuzzy robe that I had given her, the clutch that we had found that went perfectly with the dress that we bought for the winter formal. The one she never got to attend. And I kept thinking things like "She'll never get to wear her fuzzy robe again" and "We just bought her that bed a few months ago so she would sleep better." Suddenly I realized that I was acting as if she were dead. Like she was gone and I would never see her again. And I realized that I never really grieved for mama. I have been sad and I have cried. But I haven't allowed myself to think of her as gone. Because if I actually acknowledge that my mother is dead then I have to face the fact that I will never again hug her. I won't playfully chide her about not eating enough. She won't laugh at my silliness and tell me I worry too much or I work too hard.
And Amanda moving suddenly made all of this clear to me. I was grieving her as if she had died because I couldn't bring myself to admit that mama had. I couldn't handle the thought that my mama was gone and she wasn't coming back. Mandy moving is hard, I miss her fiercely. But I can go visit her whenever I want. I can call her every day. She's still here. She's just not living with me anymore. My mama is gone. I'll never again be able to call her and gripe about my husband, my children, or that woman in the grocery store who was rude to me. I can't go sit in her living room and talk to her about everything and nothing at the same time. I won't hear her laugh over some silly joke I made that no one else found funny. We won't be able to watch movies together and cry. And we'll never travel the world. And it hurts. It hurts to the very core of my being. And I don't say anything because I don't want all of the looks of sympathy. I don't want people calling me all the time to check on me. I just want to grieve. I want to miss my mama and cry and I want it to be ok for me to do that. Because when people call to check on me, then I feel like I'm pitying myself. I feel like I need to get over myself and my need to grieve. Lots of people have lost their parents. I'm not the first, I won't be the last. Why should I carry on so? But when people leave me to it I can cry. I'm not depressed. I'm not wallowing in it. I am missing my mama.
