One year later.

 

Tomorrow (9/28) marks not only my Uncle Harry’s birthday but also the one year anniversary of my mom's passing. What have I learned? Life is unpredictable and it's all about perspective. 

As a year has passed, I have had a lot of time, even with two little ones, to think and reflect. I have thought about my mom, our relationship, her relationships, her life. And a lot has happened this year. 

We got a fence. We continue to use the grill she bought us; the one we never wanted her to know we loved because we hated her spending that kind of money on us. We planted a tree in her honor (thank you Ambrose). We are pretty sure it's dying. It turns out a grieving person does not an arborist make. Maybe we will just get a nice bench instead? Jack ditched his binky. Jane is starting to cruise. We still refer to my mom’s car as Grandmama’s car. Jack still loves to see her picture. Jane is a mini Mama in looks and personality; she has a heart of gold and a fiery spirit.  

Also, in this past year my mom has been joined by more people than we thought we could handle, but here we stand. I move forward in peace knowing they are together with God. And I know Mama greeted each of them with a warm hug and even warmer cookies.  

As I have reflected on the past year, I naturally found myself thinking about the time before it all changed. The time when my mom was still here on earth. I have always said that I have no regrets because every step has taken me to where I stand. But if I am honest, looking back on that time, in the words of the great Frank Sinatra, “regrets, I have a few”. By way of healing, I think I will share. 

I always wanted to get audio of my mom singing to my kids but I never did. My mom always said “don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today” and I usually follow that principle. But I failed to and I missed that opportunity. 

I am also regretful that I was not able to be more physically present with and for her in the first two months of Jane’s life, which were the last two months of hers. She often asked for a sleepover and for me to lay in bed with her. Aside from a few snuggles, I was not able to give these things to her. I understand the logic in the reasoning behind why I couldn’t be there, but the regret stands and I did miss that time. 

Finally, I regret how I acted during what would be our last real conversation. I was really mad at the end of my mom’s life. She had been sick for so long and I wanted so desperately for things to be better for her, for her to live the life I know she wanted and that I wanted for her. All of that made me mad. And because I know that anger is a surface emotion, I will say that I was actually sad and scared. My feelings are not my regret, but how I handled them is. On the day of our last conversation, I was at breakfast with my in-laws and I was hurt that she couldn’t be there. When she called me, I was short and snippy. I had been short with her that whole weekend because she felt disconnected from me and that scared me. I have to rectify that within myself, and I am trying. I pray and pray and then I pray some more, and God guides me through.  Please hear me when I say that this is not a fishing expedition for validation. But I still want to air my grievances in order to heal and move on. So there you have it. And, I believe, there’s a lesson here. 

In the time that has passed, a lot of stories have been exchanged and recalled in our house and also with aunts, uncles, cousins and friends. Some new and some classic. Evan and I have spent a lot of time reflecting on Mama’s “idiosyncrasies” we will kindly call them. The things that drove us crazy in life have solidified themselves as warm memories in death. My mom would come to visit and she would empty Evan’s Yeti, THAT HE WAS USING, and would fill it up with her drink. She would put all of our coffee cups upside down in our cabinets. She took 5 hours to pick a movie and even longer to decide on a dinner meal. In Italy, she asked relentlessly for meatballs and spaghetti - which is not a thing there. She could break anything and would be the one person to spill on a nice rug. She yelled at a cop once because he pulled her over for speeding and she almost hit him when he flagged her down to stop. But she would give you the shirt off of her back in the dead of winter. She baked 60 dozen cookies for our wedding (Note- we had a very small wedding and could have managed with 3 dozen easily). She made meals for those in need and lactation cookies for nursing moms in our family. 

The point is, I hold it all in high regard. The good and the bad. This isn't to say that irritation isn't valid. We can't be afraid to feel how we feel because someday we will miss something or someone. Acting a certain way in anticipation of death is no way to live. But maybe it encourages a little patience. Maybe an ounce of reflection is worth a pound of grace. 

I started to realize towards the end of my mom's life and even in the time since she has passed that a lot of my frustration was due to failed expectations. Growing up my mom could do anything. She was smart and funny and witty and determined and she never made an excuse for anything. Her ability to continue to live up to this standard was impossible due to the natural progression of life and due to her failing health.  But to me, it was a failure.  She was not a failure, she did the best she could every day.  But me losing my mom as I knew her and the failure to meet expectations I so unrealistically set was. 

My mom babysat for my cousin’s son for the first few years of his life. That time formed a bond that meant a great deal to both of them and held a very significant place in her heart for the rest of her time here on earth. That sweet little boy got the best grandmothering years of my mom’s life and I am beyond grateful my cousins gave her that opportunity. Evan and I wanted so badly for our kids to get that time with their Grandmama as well. But that was not the path. That was not the reality. And that is not the reality for many as life progresses. Our children got to know her in the way she was able to be present in their lives, and for that I am grateful. The way a person is in life is not static, it is dynamic. The key, for me, is accepting the fact of fluidity and riding that wave. Recently at work I got a Dove chocolate square from the candy dish and the message inside the wrapper said “Keep moving forward, looking backward is only for time travelers” (Rachel Washington). I am not sure I would be so negating to the value of the past, but the sentiment was well received. We all pass through changing seasons of life, some are blessed with more seasons than others, and I have learned that as I pass through mine, I want to be a little more gracious to the present, a little less favoring of the past and a little more faithful in the future. 

Thank you for riding with me again, not just on my grief journey but on this beautiful wave called life.