Wednesday, August 22, 2012

What I Think About: One Big Fear

One year and one day of being motherless.

Motherless.  How that word pierces my heart.

I keep expecting the days to get easier.  The memories to not hurt.  Sometimes it happens.  Sometimes it doesn't.

Over this past year I'm so grateful for my husband's persistence, patience, and love.  For keeping me from drowning--for encouraging me to keep going.  For being there.

I'm so thankful for my sister's smiles, silly stories, and willingness to cry.

I'm so appreciative of my friends who made the year possible by watching my kids, bringing me dinner, and loaning me their pop-up campers.

For those of you who let me talk about my mom without feeling compelled to say "I'm so sorry," for those of you who noticed that I've worn a piece of her jewelry every day for a year, for those who just let me rage and cry and laugh.  Thank you.

One year.  I've done it.

But I'm more afraid now than ever.

I'm afraid it won't get easier.  Now the year is up like some sort of deadline and I'm afraid the people who have been patient this past year, well I'm afraid they are getting tired of me telling the same stories or reminiscing about my mom or wearing the same jewelry.

I'm afraid to be the Debbie Downer who can't let go.  Who won't let go.

I'm afraid it won't get easier.  That I'll still be haunted by firsts and 21st.  That I'll always be just a bit more empty than I used to be.

I'm afraid that at some point and time, the brokeness I feel over my mom could cost me relationships because, hey, who wants to be around someone who seems 99.9% okay, except for the brokenness you can just feel radiating off of her?

It's more than that.  What I'm afraid of most--the thought that brings me to my knees in angst is that it WILL get easier.

I'm afraid that some days, I won't remember at all.  That I'll forget to put on her jewelry. That the sound of her laugh will slowly fade into memories of good old days.

That slowly this process of saying goodbye and letting go is actually a severing--of giving up the past to move on with the future.

I hate the ache but it reminds me how real her love was and how good her life was and that I had a mom who raised me well and would be proud.

But when it gets easier, it gets harder because I forget the ache.

And without the ache, I feel like I forget her.

What I think is loss is so complicated.  A year later I'm afraid people will let me go if I hold on too much to my pain and sorrow but even more so, I fear letting go of the pain means I can't hold onto the memories.

Thank you for letting me Pour My Heart Out.


16 comments:

  1. Once again, you have that uncanny knack to say what I am thinking. This is perfectly said and hands down, one of the most touching things you have posted. I love you!

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    1. Ha! I have no idea why it says I'm "unknown". It's very existential. Blogger is questioning who
      I am.

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  2. Beautiful post. Your mother must have been an awesome woman to have a daughter with such a tender heart who obviously loves her so much. :)

    Mindy @ New Equus - A New Creation

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    1. I appreciate the comment, Mindy

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  3. I think it's totally fine to be only 99.9% okay. You lost someone who had huge role in making you the woman you are today so it makes sense that you will be missing a piece of you now that she's no longer here. You likely won't ever stop missing her and there will be times where her absence hits you just as hard as it did on all those firsts and 21sts. But that's okay because there's also plenty of times that you laugh and smile while thinking about her. If people can't handle you missing your mother, well, they're pretty crappy friends.

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    1. I can always count on you to understand

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  4. I don't want to say I'm sorry if that upsets you, but I am sad for your loss and for the pain you're experiencing. I think it isn't supposed to be easy, unfortunately and we're meant to go on after losing loved ones and focus on those we still have, and ourselves. But we hold onto the small things - whether it be jewelry or memories or a photograph. Whatever it is that works for you is what matters most. Sending you hugs from the blogosphere!

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    1. Thanks for the comment. I don't mind "I'm sorry" in general--just when I share a memory. I'm sorry she's gone. I'm not sorry I have a million great memories of her. Does that make sense? I'm a hot mess so it might not :)

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  5. Sending you prayers. Such a difficult thing- grief. To want to feel better yet to want to keep remembering all at the same time.

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  6. I can honestly say that loss has me just as confused. I don't at this point if it will get easier. Your mom's anniversary marked the second birthday without my brother. I thought that I was ok...not so much. It was a hard day for me too. And that was nearly 15 months after Jeremy passed. I can still hear his voice in my head and at the same time as I love that feeling, it hurts so much to know that it is just a memory. I too wonder what it will feel like when or if I cannot remember his voice. Love you, see you soon! And you better have the kleenex handy because I am totally good with reminiscing about them both! <3

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    1. I'm recovering from a cold. I will have lots of Kleenx for us to ugly cry into. Can't wait for the visit!

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  7. I can't even imagine how my life will be without my mother. Thank you for your raw honesty. It's a beautiful post.

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    1. Thank you Erin. What I tell people is life is always good, just not as good, since she's been gone (which I think is a Pink song but I'm not quoting it on purpose. And maybe it's Kelly Clarkson).

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