Today I actually remember to go check Kristen's (Quirky) Hot Off the Press prompt at The Digi Shoppe before I blogged. WooHoo!
First off, on the train this morning I realized I completely forgot the anniversary of Mom's passing yesterday. I've know for awhile it was coming, but the day passed without a thought. How sad is that?! So as I was navigating to find Kristen's prompt I was thinking that I should write something about Mom today as well. How interesting that today's prompt fits right in...
Kristen prompted us with:
"Gonna go sentimental on ya!! Do you have a special memory of
someone in your family? Something that was just for the two of
you...your grandma, grandpa, uncle, anyone! Present or past! I'd love
to hear about your memories (besides once you write this up poof...you
have journaling for a Layout!!
)"
Special memory? Hmmm...let me tell ya, once someone passes every memory is special. How do I pick just one? She was more than just my mom. She was my friend. We were "pals". I always enjoyed doing things with her. Even as a child and a teenager (believe it or not) it was not uncommon for me to accompany her on simple things such as grocery shopping. I just liked spending time with her. As a young adult, we continued this. Lunch out, shopping trips, hanging out. We even did a Monday night ceramics class together for years.
When I moved out of the house the second time (after a big blow up with my father), she would send me little notes now and then in the mail. A coupon for something she knew I would use. An ad for something she knew I'd like. Just little things---but they meant the world to me.
It got more difficult to hang out once she moved away (nearly an hour
and 1/2 drive), but I'd take a Friday off here and there and drive up
so we could do our running around.
For years, her illness seemed no more than an inconvenience. The doctor was amazed that she was having as few side affects as she did. Her MRI's showed that she should be having much more difficulty than she was. But, when she started having more problems it seemed to snowball quickly. I can't imagine how she felt to loose her driving privileges. We all pitched in to get her where she needed to go, but it must have been so frustrating for her. She never complained though. So typical of her.
At the end, I did not expect it to be the end. At 4 months pregnant with my first child, it was inconceivable to me that she might not be there. Even after having spent over six months in hospitals and rehabs, I honestly thought she would get better. I knew she would never be back to her old self, but I really thought she could get well enough to come home. Even if it was only for visits (she would have been wheelchair bound most likely). I honestly believed she would meet P-nut. How could I not?! It was a shock to get the call that summer morning telling me I needed to come. Even as I drove the hour + to meet Dad and Dawn at the house, I knew it was over. But, if I didn't think about it then it couldn't be true, right?
I'm not angry with her for leaving. She needed to let go. Her body just couldn't take anymore and I know she is in a better place. I am angry (not sure at whom) that I was robbed of sharing motherhood with her. Of not being wise enough to learn just a bit more about the "who" that Betty Ann was. I want to call her when P-nut does something new or says something funny. I want to ask her advice when P-nut is giving me a hard time or is sick. I want to hug her and tell her how much I love her and miss her. I want her to hold P-nut and see her smile and the look of genuine happiness that her grandchildren always brought to her face. Yes, I am nearly 36 years old and I want my Mommy.
The wisest (and kindest) thing that someone said to me when she passed was that she did not miss meeting my daughter. The person told me that Mom was actually the very first person to meet P-nut...she was in Heaven. She knew my daughter.
I believe this is true. I also believe that she is looking down on us. She knows what is going on...she sees P-nut growing. She is not missing a single thing.
I am. I miss her. I love you, Mom!