And so it goes
Memories bump up against you in the most unexpected ways. I am getting used to going over to mom's house and having her be absent. Part of that is just removing the material things: the dishes we ate Christmas dinner on that are living in my cupboard now; the candy dishes and serving plates and decorative mugs; the candles and candle holders. These are her physical things - they speak of her but can only paint a partial picture. Sometimes I look up to where her treasures now live at my house and I am amazed that they are there. Sometimes I don't even notice them. Today, sitting in traffic on my way to pick up Dad at the doctor's office, it came to me suddenly - again - that she wasn't there. I can't call her. I can't see her, smell her, hug her, share a laugh over her boys. And it was fresh again. It's almost been a month and I still don't believe it. Maybe I won't believe it? I look at some of these material things and think that her hands touched them. Dad carries her wedding ring on his keychain and the cold metal under my fingers brings strange comfort when I hold it. I am afraid that I will forget more about her than I remember.
I am so fortunate to have had two amazing moms. My mom was there for all the moments that began my life. My steps, my words, my grades and graduations, my first dates and my wedding, my temple sealing. Eric's mom was there for every major event of my independant life - my wedding, my morning sickness, Joshua's birth, infertility, adoption, the first family lunch with Carly, the day-to-day of being grown. I have shared my birthdays and holidays, my childrens first steps and words with her. I have shared card games and amazing dinners, splendid spring picnics and we even stayed up most of the night together way back when Princess Diana died. We mourned 9-11, we celebrated family victories. The void of losing my second mom is so deep and wide, I fear it can never be filled. And I fear it will be healed.
I miss both my moms, but am so grateful that the mother who ushered me into the world is still here to stand by me as I say goodbye to the mother who has anchored me for the last ten years of my life.
And so it goes, the days roll by. Outside, its beautiful and warm. Josh is playing with his friends and laughing, his cheeks red with spring warmth. Carly is upstairs sleeping, her belly full of milk and her mind full of dreams. Time and life march onward, ever onward.
I am so fortunate to have had two amazing moms. My mom was there for all the moments that began my life. My steps, my words, my grades and graduations, my first dates and my wedding, my temple sealing. Eric's mom was there for every major event of my independant life - my wedding, my morning sickness, Joshua's birth, infertility, adoption, the first family lunch with Carly, the day-to-day of being grown. I have shared my birthdays and holidays, my childrens first steps and words with her. I have shared card games and amazing dinners, splendid spring picnics and we even stayed up most of the night together way back when Princess Diana died. We mourned 9-11, we celebrated family victories. The void of losing my second mom is so deep and wide, I fear it can never be filled. And I fear it will be healed.
I miss both my moms, but am so grateful that the mother who ushered me into the world is still here to stand by me as I say goodbye to the mother who has anchored me for the last ten years of my life.
And so it goes, the days roll by. Outside, its beautiful and warm. Josh is playing with his friends and laughing, his cheeks red with spring warmth. Carly is upstairs sleeping, her belly full of milk and her mind full of dreams. Time and life march onward, ever onward.
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