for my mom

for my mom

I have been quiet for the past few weeks. Not really speaking to anyone other than those with whom I have been forced to speak. I know that sounds terrible, but it is true. AUTHENTIC interaction with others has been more than a challenge. There are frequently moments where I feel as though I am out of body looking down on the frivolous activities of those around me. I have become a keenly aware observer and day to day life seems so trivial and insignificant in the scheme of things. At one point, I desired peace...the calm before and after a storm. But now, I would give anything to be in the heart of that storm again. My mom lost her battle with breast cancer.

The majority of my first year of marriage has been happily spent alongside my mom. There is not another place in the world I could have imagined being, but what does that leave me with now? She is gone and I have an excruciating hole in my heart. For weeks I imagined that this was all some sort of sick joke and my beautiful mother would waltz in the room and say, "Just kidding!" I find myself staring at empty chairs, closed doors and my phone...waiting for her.

My life now has morphed into something uncomfortably unfamiliar. I have not only lost my best friend and my mother, but I have lost my job and my identity. Who am I now without my mom? I am no longer a caretaker tasked with caring for my mom through her battle and my 97-year-old grandmother. What does my life look like from here? Picturing anything beyond this moment, right now, is proving to be borderline impossible. Do I want to know a life where our kids will never know their incredible grandmother? Who am I? What is the purpose of all this heartache? These are the agonizing thoughts that plague my mind constantly.

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I used to call my mom at 3am to talk about the big things and the small things. It didn't matter what it was, she would wake up, answer the phone, get comfortable and talk to me for hours even if she had to be up early for whatever the day had in store. She would advise me, console me, laugh with me or play devil's advocate when she thought I might need to look at things from a different perspective.

"Stacey, sometimes things aren't always as they appear."
"You just stay positive and optimistic."
"The mind is a very powerful thing."
"Stand up for what you believe in. Just go for it!"
"Everything happens for a reason, even though we may not be able to see that reason now."
"Save, save, save. It is never too early to put away for retirement. Never touch it and you will be set."
"Things have been so tough for this family over the past few years, it will turn around, I know it."

As I sit here and contemplate what my mom would tell me to do and how to cope with a loss of this magnitude, I find myself thinking back to our late night, marathon talks. Staying positive is torture, but I know that's what she would tell me to do. So what positive things can come from the cards that have been dealt?

There is the obvious: my mom is no longer in pain, no longer suffering, she has moved on to a much better place and now exists in the air I breath, the "birdies" that soar and the sun that shines...she is everywhere, watching over me.

Then there is the not so obvious: my mom selflessly promised my siblings and I that she would never allow us to care for her long-term...she wanted us to live full, happy lives and not worry about her, although that is what we all wanted to do. She gave us the permission to live without guilt. We all were able to spend quality time with her over the past year and were by her side when she passed, which allowed us to muddle through some semblance of a "goodbye"...not everyone is given that opportunity. We got to tell her we loved her and that she was the most incredible mother we could have ever had. I was able to tell her how proud of her I was and that I hope to one day be at least half the mother she had been to me. She even got to live out her last few months with more zest and joy than I had ever seen- relishing in the smallest things like her pride for her native Canada during the Olympics. The opening ceremony actually brought tears to her eyes...she was so full of pride.

I think subconsciously she knew...although she would have never openly acknowledged it. This thought even brings a little peace of mind. There is a fire that burns in me now to move forward and exist in this seemingly frivolous world...for her. I want to act and conduct myself in her honor and make her proud. I hope that her extraordinary spirit shines through me and that I can now do her memory justice.

Mom- I miss you.