Yesterday was an incredibly hard day for me. I could feel it quickly approaching and no
matter how desperately I tried to ignore it, the 4th of July was
here. While I am a patriotic American,
this feeling of dread was not about the birth of our amazing country, but the
birth, and inevitably the death, of someone special to me. I am sure, by knowing the typical topic of my
woes, you know exactly whom I am referring to.
Yes, my dear mom was born on the 4th of July
1969. The fact that she was born on such
an important holiday added to how special she was, and how special she thought
she was. She used to get excited about
her birthday, then it was her birthday weekend, which turned into her birthday
week, and before she was gone she had capitalized on an entire birthday
month. And she was so worth it. She deserved a birthday month. And if she was here, I would celebrate a birthday
6 months if it meant I got to see her.
When it came to her birthday she was like a little girl, she
could guess what was inside any package my dad would get her. One year he got her a new car stereo, the movie titanic, and a new
Bible. He wrapped the speakers
separately and put the movie into a huge box, the Bible into another. She knew what was in each package. She shook one and said, “I bet this is the
left speaker.” And she was right. She
was always right (that’s where I get it). She correctly guessed what was in
each box, and I can still see her smile and feel her excitement. She was so bubbly and it was always contagious.
There are specific days in which the hole in my heart that
she left is thrown in my face. Mother’s
day, my birthday, and her birthday are a few of the worst. The night before her
birthday I dreamt of her, and I never
dream of her anymore. When she first
died I would dream of her a lot. It was
always in the house that I grew up in, and I used to say that I was going to
knock on the door and see if the people who own that house now would be okay
with me sitting in their closet so that I could maybe feel close to her. I clearly never did this because I am not a
creeper, but I thought of it all the time.
I just so desperately want to feel close to her again.
The dreams that I had were at first fine and happy. She was there. That is all that really mattered. But by the end of it she was gone and I would
be left searching for her, trying to find her, feeling her absence. One of them
I was on the phone with her and was talking to her and all of a sudden she was
gone. I was frantically saying, “mom? Mom? Are you there? Mom?” It was awful. It is how I feel all the time. Like she should be here, like she is just outside my reach.
So needless to say, I woke up sad yesterday. I woke up feeling empty and alone
yesterday. I woke up missing her. It is strange, but even 3 years later it
doesn’t quite feel real. Yesterday
morning her absence felt so real. The
chasm of emptiness, loneliness, grief, anger, hurt, confusion, and desperation
was so very real. I thought of just up
and driving to the beach. If I hadn’t of
just had surgery I really think I would have.
When I miss her I want to be at the beach. It is why there is a beach
tattooed on my body. She is at the
beach. I feel her when I am at the
beach. And it was my first thought. I needed to be at the beach. But, like a mature adult I didn’t just react
out of my grief and I stayed in town.
But I couldn’t just stay home.
The kids and I ran some errands, met Raul for lunch, and our
final stop was at fry’s. They were out
of most of the things I wanted which was frustrating, but my meltdown happened
when I got to the cake aisle. I had
decided I was going to make my mom’s favorite cake. She loved marble cakes and I wanted to make
her one. But guess what? There were no marble cake mixes. None. Zero. And I lost it. I cried right then and there in the cake aisle. Karsyn (my three year-old), seeing how upset
I was, kept pointing out cakes saying
things like, “mommy look at this cake. I
think your mommy would like this one!” All my kids just looked at me not sure what
to do. They had never seen me lose it in
public. They all were trying to find a
marble cake, moving boxes around, but it was pointless. There were no marble cakes.
Just like my mom was missing in my dreams, she is missing in
my life. Being without her on her birthday
just plain sucks. In my entire life I
had only missed 2 of her birthdays, and now there have been 3 without her. They don’t have her cake, and we don’t have
her. Our family is all spread out and
while we all wanted to be together it just didn’t work out. My aunt, grandma, sister, and I all texted
throughout the day and each one of us were really struggling. Each one of us felt like it has gotten worse
with time, not better. And each one of
us wished we could have been together. One
of us was in Phoenix, one in Tucson, one in the White Mountains, and one in Kansas
but we really needed each other, and we really needed her. I feel like nobody gets it quite like the
four of us women. All of our grief looks
different, but we are all the most alike, and we are all the most like her. Nobody
shares her with us quite like her mom, her sister, and her daughters.
My heart is broken.
It is irreparable damage. I will
never be able to move on. Just hours before
she died I was texting her and without warning she was gone. She died snug and safe in her bed and I just
can’t move past that. Getting the call
from the officer to respond to the house
because my mom had died was the pivotal moment in my life. It is where everything changed. It is where my life was broken. You don’t
just get over your mom dying. I just can’t.
It is hard because it has made me question my faith, my
beliefs. If I believe in God then it means
that he chose to take my mom. And while
everyone talks about how happy and pain-free she is “dancing with Jesus”, I
cannot get over the fact that God would do this to us. I watch the pain and suffering of all my
family members, of my daughter and I cannot see how this is a “good plan”. I am so angry at God and I cannot see how He
has a perfect plan in store for our lives.
For what? To ruin our lives? To break us?
I don’t see it. I cannot accept
my mom’s death. It is too awful and
horrifying. It is too painful and
devastating. It has broken me to the
core and I am not sure that I can survive the injury it has caused. It was a lethal blow.
