For anyone who knows what it’s like, I’m sure you understand our family’s complicated relationship with Mother’s Day. She passed on the Wednesday after Mother’s Day that year. We had gone shopping to get her a whole bunch of comfy clothes to wear when she came home from the hospital. She never came home from the hospital alive. We buried her body in the ground in the cemetery down the road. I go there and lay on the grave, stretched out on the grass, hoping for something, anything to show me that she’s still looking out for us, something to show me that there is still enough good in the world to not let it tear me down. Very often it is a gust of wind, the sudden appearance of birds flying overhead. Nature’s delights before me to enjoy, and so I do, because I can no longer enjoy the physical presence and comfort of my Mother.
Four years after she passed, we spent a whole afternoon cleaning out her clothes and toiletries, all her stuff. And we divided it up amongst us. I got one of the pairs of pajama pants. I wore the hell out of them. Wore them until they were tattered and could finally be tossed out, which, although tough to do, I have been doing more and more of recently. They are, after all, only things.
For many years after she passed, a whiff of Chanel No. 5 could sometimes bring my whole world crashing down, memories of my Mother flooding back in a motion picture inside my mind that was more real than any movie could ever be—laying in the bed with her in the mornings, sunny and quiet, rubbing her ear lobe and snuggling under the covers. Her smile, her laugh, the face she gave me when I did something that we both knew was mean. I can only hope that I have grown up to be the person that she always knew that I am—a spitfire that she helped grow into a steady flame that refuses to be extinguished by any other unkind human. I remember her. I will always carry her memories with me wherever I go. I don’t even have to close my eyes; in the magical conjuring of memories within my mind, I see her in a plaid button up, smiling, her hair cut short, half-turning as I say something while she walks toward the utility room, away from me. I must get that from Dad, talking to people while they are leaving the room.
I said before, probably more than once, that I didn’t know how to carry on in this life without her. But, like so many things that have come to pass, I was wrong. I knew how to do it because she showed me the way. She kept on living her life and dutifully caring for her responsibilities in that life—and then some—until the day she passed. She was strong enough to take care of her own Mother when she was ill and passed when I was still young. She was strong enough to continue to care for us and also take care of her father in his remaining years after Grandma passed, despite how cantankerous he could be at times. I selfishly remember all the things that I so loved about my Mother and sometimes forget that she was a lot of different things to so many different people—and they all loved her. I know she loved them too and she tried her best to show it in her everyday actions. Actively participating in things to improve her family, her home, and her community.
When Mom died, I thought that I couldn’t go on without her. The thought was crippling for me, for a very long time. I’m glad that I was wrong about myself. I am so much stronger than I, at times, give myself credit for—and it’s tough to admit. I couldn’t speak at Bill’s funeral or at Jonathan’s. People had turned to me expectantly—but I couldn’t do it. Much like Sarah wanting me to call for Mom after her heart stopped beating. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t call out, “Mom!” Not because I didn’t want her back, but because I was truly afraid that she would come back just for me and then suffer some more. When Billie passed away, not only was I strong enough to be with her when she passed, but I was also strong enough to put something together to say at her funeral, and say it, though I had to pause and gather myself at first. It was so very difficult, but I did it. I like to think they are both proud of me for that. And for being strong enough to carry on without them.
Today, it is the toughest of all the days, the day after Mother’s Day. It is Death Day, and it is rainy. That’s okay, it’s pretty fitting because I, too, have water falling from my face. I don’t fight it so much anymore, when the tears come. I know that if I do hold it all in, it’s bound to come out anyway, and quite possibly at the least inopportune time. Who needs that!? I’m supposed to work on emotional regulation…how is that even a thing? How do you regulate something that lives within your soul and shines through in everything that you do? How can you regulate the waves of an endless ocean?
I’m determined to learn to surf just like I learned to skateboard. As I roll along this path of life, I don’t find myself drowning in the rising waves, or tumbling in the surf. Instead I find myself floating peacefully when I have swum too hard and need a break. When the waters get choppy, I reach out to my family and find that I have my own set of life preservers that I maintain for myself and my family. We are not alone in this life, and the further along we get, the more convinced I am that we never were alone. All this time, all those who have come before us guide us through this life with their love and light, even if it sometimes seems so far away. All you have to do is pause, take a moment to enjoy this place, our Earthly home, the nature within it and all its beauty, and be grateful for this precious moment in time in which we are all so lucky to live.
What a blessing it was to have such a Mother! How terrible it was to lose her! How awful it still sometimes is!
I dry my eyes and get on with my day, because that’s what I’m here to do. I am here to guide others through this life, just as I was by my own Mother. I also have three very wonderful people who call me Mom, and for me, it’s enough to carry on no matter what challenges I may face. And I know, in my heart, that when my time comes to pass from this world, that they will have the tools they need to carry on without me and will have, within their hearts, all the love in the world in which to carry on without me, because they must be the light and love for the future they create for themselves.
