Several people have mentioned to me that my grief would roll in like waves. I nodded, figuring they knew what they were talking about even though I didn’t. Now I get it. A wave rolled in yesterday and I’m still on it, trying to surf, or swim, or just jump off and go sit on the beach. I’m not a fan of the waves, because the further I get from December 8, the less “normal” it is for me to be randomly crying at the dog groomer. And yet, there’s nothing I can do but just ride the wave until it lets me go.
I miss my mom.
A long time friend from as far back as my 12th year of life wrote me a letter when she heard my mom had passed. She had lost her own mom recently in much the same way. She said, “There’s no one like a mom. Is there anyone who fully has your back but your mom?” And she’s right. And maybe that’s part of the wave of grief…the realization that a layer of protection has been stripped away and now it’s just me and the world.
For me, another part of it is the remembrances of this time last year. It was one year ago on Christmas Day that she last walked into my house.
Today is the day before my 47th birthday. I don’t mention that because my birthday matters to me, especially not this year. I mention it because it factors into the story. She called me on the 28th to wish me happy birthday. She was a day off. She might as well have been six months off because my mom never got anything wrong. She knew the birthday of her nieces-in-laws. I took that phone call and was shaken when I hung up. I knew then where things were and where they were going.
And here we are one year later and I’m trying to get through one family event after another. Without her. I think if I can just get off this particular wave, I’ll be sunning on the beach until her birthday, a week from now.
They say that grief is the price of love and I believe it. It’s worth it. So if you see me and I look a little lost, don’t worry about me. I’m just a kid who got separated from her mom. For a little while. But I’ll find her again. Thank God for that.