As 2016 comes to a close, I look back at all the things my mom has missed and wish she could have seen. We had a graduation and a wedding this year, both would have made her proud. I recall the fun mom had at my own wedding, dancing up a storm and laughing with her friends.
She had a larger-than-life spirit. It was daunting to be the shy daughter. Everyone in town knew my mom. Because she reached out to everyone, from the guy sweeping out the store to the bartender serving the drinks. My mom knew them all...their stories and their dreams.
Click Each year without her is a little harder. It's another year, she hasn't been able to see her grandchildren grow. She's missed out on getting to meet four of them and barely knew the older two.
I worry that my own children won't remember her, but then we really lost her ten years earlier when her brain was damaged. She wasn't the same after that. She'd lost her sparkle, becoming more cynical and bitter. Angry at the world. Untrusting in the goodness in people.here to edit.
Each year, it's easier as well. The pain isn't as sharp. The loss doesn't cut so deep. I've learned to survive and learned I am strong enough to go on.
Instead of clinging to her, I've found the pieces inside myself which remind me of her. The color of my eyes, the fullness of my cheek. I've rejoiced in the small things like a photo of her carried on my daughter's bouquet down the aisle.
I've become the recorder of history. The memories, the photos, the recipes...saved for the next generation.
I'd like to think you've been here... seen it all. Whispered in our ears, wiped away our tears, protected us with your love.
You should be here...you've missed so much.
Musings from Michigan