My second birthday without my mom.  It hurts just as bad today as last year.  Only good thing is I’m not worried about my dad’s health as much this year at this time.  Last year my pain was exponential for many reasons.  As I think back on past birthdays with her it’s hard not to smile or laugh

My mom would make a cake for almost every one of my birthdays.  Sometimes it was fancy (she made me an awesome Strawberry Shortcake, the character, cake when I was a kid) and sometimes it was plain, but it was always made with love which made it taste so good.  When she wasn’t able to make them for me anymore, we would buy them.  It was always my choice and a big deal. 

When I was a kid, she would give me the gifts she knew I wanted.  She would also give me gifts that denoted a milestone in my growth.  I remember one year being so excited to get shaving gel and a razor because it meant I was growing up.  When I was a child Cabbage Patch Kid dolls were the big thing.  I wanted one so bad because they came with a birth certificate and everything.  I always wanted to be a mom and so this doll felt like my first foray into parenthood.  However, they were hard to find because they were so popular and pretty expensive.  My mom looked at the doll in the store, studied it and thought to herself “I can make that” and she did.  She made me a Cabbage Patch Kid, clothes and all, no birth certificate but everything else.  She did a great job too.  I didn’t even realize at first it wasn’t the real doll.  I loved that doll so much and took it with me everywhere.  Then a year or two later they were easier to buy, and we were able to afford it and she bought me a “real” one because she felt she had cheated me with making my first one.  The birth certificate was everything I had hoped, and the doll was great, I love it too, but it was definitely not as special as the one she made for me.  

As I got older, she would ask me what I wanted for my birthday, but it didn’t really matter what I told her because she would find something unique and special that I would of course love.  When she could, she would still make me gifts as well.  I rarely received expensive gifts or big-ticket items for my birthday.  Her gifts were always thoughtful and showed me just how well she knew me and loved me. 

It's hard celebrating a day that has always been so imbued with my mom’s presence.  A day we have shared in together all my life.  My mom always made me feel so special on my birthday with the little things she’d do.  I miss her every day but today is one of the ones that hits harder.  

It’s an odd feeling celebrating a Mother’s Day without my mother for the second year. Today is simply a reminder of what I’ve lost, my best friend and mother. I can of course still celebrate her for all that she was but it still comes with the sharp and stinging price. A jarring reminder that she is no more and that I will never have her again in this life.  

I wonder if she had been a mean, spiteful, and unrelenting mother if I’d feel the same. I suppose to some extent I would as she would be regardless the woman who brought me into this world. However, I don’t think my heartache would be as great as it is now because I know what I’m missing. I’m missing a mother who loved unconditionally. A mother who gave up dreams for me.  A mother who gave me a voice and taught me to use it. A mother that believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself. A woman who above all else wanted nothing more in life than to be my mother. 

Mom was fulfilled being a wife and mother. That didn’t mean that she didn’t have dreams. She wanted to get a college degree and she was only 3 credits away from her associates.  I was lucky enough to go to college with my mom and we took many courses together. I loved hearing her take and opinions on what we learned and sharing mine with her. Often they coincided but at times they were opposing. We both took that in stride and respected each other’s side even if it really frustrated us.

She dreamed of helping people. She loved psychology. She wanted to learn and understand what made people tick and could be quite empathetic.  She wanted to help people learn about themselves and help them through their issues. She dreamed of being a social worker or therapist. 

She was an amazing artist. She crafted so many lovely items for people from several different mediums. She loved ceramics, crocheting, macrame, etc. if it was a craft she was interested and wanted to try.  Many of us are honored to have items she lovingly hand crafted for us. 

While she didn’t get to achieve all her dreams, because like most of us life gets in the way, she still felt satisfied with what she did accomplish. Forging bonds of love with all those she held dear. 

Even though her heart may have been weakened physically, her spiritual heart was as big and as strong as ever. She gave love freely and without strings.  I know I’m not the only one that misses her but today hurts more than the others because I can’t celebrate it with her. She is forever loved and forever missed.

I have always been a good sleeper.  I was sleeping through the night by 2 weeks old.  I could sleep through Christmas morning, which really annoyed my mom.  So, as I got older she would call me and when I didn't answer because I was sleeping, she would come up with all kinds of zany ways of waking me up.  She would say that she was the front desk calling about an emergency and I needed to wake up.  She called once claiming to be the IRS and that they would come to my home and wake me up.  That was a spoof off of the fake IRS calls that were going around.  She even did a wake up call saying that watching the Olympics would be my punishment, which was funny because we loved watching the Olympics together, she just wanted me to get up so she could watch. 

Even the voicemails she left me when we were having a fight are a comfort now.  Hearing her asking me to call her back so we could work it though and that she loved me.  I miss hearing her voice, her laugh, even the angry tone in her voice when she was upset with me.  I miss it all, the good and the bad.  So, these voicemails are nice to listen to and remember.

I've included several for y'all to listen to in the Audio section of this website.  They are all labeled a voicemail of some type.  I tried to give them fitting names.

I used this picture of her because it's one of my favorites.  She was truly angry in this picture and did not want her picture taken.  I love my mom's angry face.  I miss it so.

I would love to report that it’s been a year and I’m in a better place. That I’ve found a new normal. That I’ve learned how to continue on without her. Sadly, I’m not able to say any of those things and worst yet I don’t feel like I’m any closer to accomplishing them than I was a year ago. 

They say time heals all wounds but really all that means is that the gaping hole has been knitted up with new growth by the passage of time. The wound never goes away. The pain from that wound never goes away. Sure, the sting of it might not be as painful but it’s still there. The “healing” of the wound has made a nice permanent reminder of what you’ve gone through as well, a scar. Some scars are nice and thin and barely noticeable. Others are jagged, raised, and obvious. To be honest I don’t even think my wound has been fully knitted yet but I’m sure my scar will be the latter for the rest of my days. 

I still wake up hoping she’ll be in her chair and wish me “good morning sleepyhead” or heck even that she’ll be angry I slept the day away.  That she’ll leave me one of her zany wake up voicemails on my phone. That I’ll see her sweet smiling face. Basically, I wake up trying to will her into existence only to be let down by the reality that I’ll never be able to do that. 

She’s the last person I think of before I go to bed. Missing being able to tell her “Sweet dreams. I love you. See you in the morning.”  Kissing her forehead, hugging her, or just holding her hand. I go to bed thinking of all the things I wish I could talk to her about. Tell her what’s been going on or get her opinion about something. 

It seems that not a moment of my day passes where I don’t think of her in one way or another. Noticing her favorite color, an item she’d like, what she’d disapprove of, how she’d be so upset to hear me curse as much as I do now. I catch a smell in the air, and it reminds me of her. Or I see all the freckles on my arms, and it makes me think of who I got them from. 

There is not a moment in my day from the time I wake up until I go to sleep that I am not reminded of her in some way. Hell, sometimes I’m even lucky enough to see her in my dreams. I suppose this is normal when you’re as close as she and I were. It’s like losing a limb. You can see it’s gone. Logically, you know it’s not there. Yet, you still sense it. You still remember everything about it. You mourn it yet feel it. What a contradiction for the brain to attempt to untangle. 

Love never dies which means to some degree the pain from losing love so great and true never dies either. Perhaps that’s why I’m having such a hard time, there was just too much love. If having been the recipient of my mother’s unconditional love means that I must endure “complicated grief” after losing her then it is more than worth it because she was worth it and so much more. I believe love and grief are linked. So, if love never dies neither does grief. The best we can hope for is to find a way to carry our grief so that it doesn’t consume our lives. 

I wish I could report good news about my status. That I’ve learned an amazing lesson. That I understand the reasons. That I found a way to move forward in my new normal. I could lie but what good is that. The truth is the truth. I’m not there yet. I’m still doing my best to wake up each morning, put one foot in front of the other, and find meaning in life. I’m still trying and that’s got to count for something. “One day at a time” they say. Not sure how many of those days I’ll need before my scar is completed but all I can do for now is my best to trudge one second, one minute, one hour, one day at a time. 

****Thought I’d share the memorial tree we put up for my mom 2020. She loved the color purple and the beach was her happy place so we tried to stay true to these things (even choosing a table cloth that looks a bit like sand). We added a couple ornaments about 2020. Special thanks to Jake Pinner for his beautiful and thoughtful gift that made an excellent addition to the tree. We’re trying to find a way to honor her and keep her with us during her favorite holiday.