Tomorrow marks one month since my mother died. People ask me how I'm doing, and I hardly know what to answer. On the one hand, I'm existing as always. I get up, go to work, do the tasks I'm supposed to do, get through the day, and life continues on as it always does, even when your world has lost its foundation.
On the other hand, nothing is the same. My mother's belongings are scattered to the wind, her treasures accumulated over a lifetime gone to other people, or thrown and in a landfill somewhere. I have small reminders of her everywhere - I wear her engagement ring, which keeps both my parents with me in a tangible way. I have my mother's robe to hug when her loss feels unbearable, which is more often than you might think. I have some of her clothing, not because I needed more clothing, but because wearing it brings her closer to me.
Her absence is everywhere. I am constantly thinking I should call her or text her to tell her things, and then have to realize she is not there to receive it. There is nothing huge that I want to tell her, usually. Its all the small stuff of daily life that I always told her that I am finding I miss the most, because she was really the only one who cared enough to listen. That is the thing about mothers. They care about the minutiae of your life, even the stuff no one else cares about, simply because it matters to you. And oh, how I miss that.
I will miss my mother in the big moments that I will never share with her again, of course. I will miss holidays, and special occasions, and events that we would have enjoyed together. But just as much, if not more, I miss sitting with her in the kitchen and watching the birds, and petting her cat, and talking about nothing, and just being with her, and feeling her calming presence. Because in her presence, I got to be someone's child again, and I got to feel the assurance that everything would be okay, because with her, it always was.
People don't talk enough about everyday moments. We don't live in the big moments, we live in the every day. And that is where I miss my mom the most. The basic, ordinary, run of the mill moments that make up the majority of my life. I miss her good morning texts, and her checking up on me, and her concern for how I am doing and feeling and what I am up to. I miss running her to the grocery store, and even her frustrating habits that were a part of the routine of our life.
Like so many other situations, it is the little things that get me. I got more time with my mom than most people get in this life, and it still wasn't enough. I cherish those memories, but still wish I could have her back. Today I am missing her more than ever, and I can hardly fathom that I will never hug her or talk to her again. For the rest of my life seems so long when it means it is without her. That is a lot to get used to, when you don't know anything else.
Grief is like a river. It flows along, sometimes smooth, sometimes rough, sometimes there are rapids and you can't see what's ahead, but always moving relentlessly forward. So far, I haven't drowned. That is all I'm asking of myself today. Its enough.
