I've been missing my mom the past week, more than usual. She died November 15, 2004 of cancer. I was there when she took her last breath, when I was almost as far along with Butterfly as I am right now with this baby.
I don't know if it is because of the hormonal changes when pregnant that I get way more sentimental about her death or what.
Sometimes I forget she is gone and I almost grab the phone up to tell her about the funny things the girls say and do! I even forget that she doesn't know them (in the sense that she's in a mortal body and hanging out with them, loving them, letting them get to know her, etc.). It's almost like she's known them anyway and I don't even have to say anything. Just smile and know that she knows.
One thing my mom said to me often when I was a teenager was, "You'd make a great mother to boys!" I never really understand that. I still don't. I can't remember the context when she'd say that or what I was doing/saying to make her think that. So I guess that gives special meaning to finding out this little one's gender (BTW, you can vote on the top, right corner- so far it is split down the middle).
When I have an especially trying day or someone just makes me really angry and upset I end up crying for my mom. Crying because I want to talk to her, to vent to her, to tell her I don't want her advice but listen anyway. I wish I could ask her about her pregnancies and more about what we all were like when we were little (she had FIVE babies!). I missed that chance, that opportunity. It's one thing to hear it from other relatives and quite another to hear it from the very woman who carried and cared for us.
So this is a post dedicated to all of you out there who have lost a parent and wish they could just have one day to ask all the questions, or to just stare at them in comfortable silence.
I admire my mom for being a single parent and raising the youngest two of her five children (that would be me and my little brother, Matt). For going back to school and living off student loans and food stamps to become an RN. For finally finding something that made her happy and want to live again, her nursing career. It was a short-lived happiness, only a few years of nursing, but she got to take her last breath in the very hospital and on the very floor where she had worked, with her daughters and friends surrounding her.
I am at peace with my mom's death. I'm not bawling as I type this. I know in Whom I believe and I know that my mom can finally breathe again with her Creator. I've never visited her grave because I know she isn't there. I don't talk to her because even if she can hear me I already got to say everything I needed to say before she died (even if many of my questions about her life went unanswered).
But I just had to get all of this out because I miss her very much. And I wish I could physically SEE with my eyes how proud she is and hear her say how beautiful my babies are. I wish she were here to spoil them and teach them and read to them. It won't happen but it's nice to dream.
Funny story- At the funeral home they always put up a blown-up picture of the deceased. Somehow I ended up with the huge picture but I haven't been able to bring myself to hang it so it sits behind a piece of furniture in my dining room.
One day I asked Butterfly where my mom was... to get a conversation going about my mom. She got up and ran to the dining room where the picture is hidden and pulled it out. My girls love to stare at her face, and sometimes they appear to recognize her. It gives me goosebumps!