The Last First
Three hundred sixty five days ago, my mother entered the hospital to have a mastectomy.
She died in the recovery room.
The week that followed her death brought much sadness, much emptiness, and very little sleep. Thirteen hours in six days, as a matter of fact. I couldn't imagine life without her.
Although I lived a total of 1300 miles (22 hours by car) away, I knew she was always there. I thought she always would be. Turns out I was wrong.
Life goes on in spite of loss, and many firsts have been endured and encountered since she died. The first Thanksgiving, the first Christmas, the First Mother's Day. None easier than the last, in spite of what I'd been told.
People tell you that the grief gets easier as time goes on. I disagree. I think, after a while, that you simply get used to the pain. The emptiness. The longing for the person who made your life such joy - just by being there.
My mum wasn't perfect. In fact, there were times that I blatantly disagreed with her, and we didn't talk for a month or so. Oddly, I don't regret that. I probably should. Regardless, she let me be me, and I returned the gesture.
As time passed this year, I looked toward today - October 23, 2007 - as some sort of magical date. One year, 365 days: The Last First in the year since she died. I don't know why, but I hoped it would be some sort of magical experience. A catharsis from the pain, an escape from the Mum-shaped hole that has been in my heart since that day.
There's nothing different, nothing magical. No change at all. Except maybe that it's Tuesday, in more ways than one.
I love you, Mum.
I miss you more than you will ever know.
She died in the recovery room.
The week that followed her death brought much sadness, much emptiness, and very little sleep. Thirteen hours in six days, as a matter of fact. I couldn't imagine life without her.
Although I lived a total of 1300 miles (22 hours by car) away, I knew she was always there. I thought she always would be. Turns out I was wrong.
Life goes on in spite of loss, and many firsts have been endured and encountered since she died. The first Thanksgiving, the first Christmas, the First Mother's Day. None easier than the last, in spite of what I'd been told.
People tell you that the grief gets easier as time goes on. I disagree. I think, after a while, that you simply get used to the pain. The emptiness. The longing for the person who made your life such joy - just by being there.
My mum wasn't perfect. In fact, there were times that I blatantly disagreed with her, and we didn't talk for a month or so. Oddly, I don't regret that. I probably should. Regardless, she let me be me, and I returned the gesture.
As time passed this year, I looked toward today - October 23, 2007 - as some sort of magical date. One year, 365 days: The Last First in the year since she died. I don't know why, but I hoped it would be some sort of magical experience. A catharsis from the pain, an escape from the Mum-shaped hole that has been in my heart since that day.
There's nothing different, nothing magical. No change at all. Except maybe that it's Tuesday, in more ways than one.
I love you, Mum.
I miss you more than you will ever know.
Labels: Family
posted by rennratt at 9:43 AM
15 Comments:
You already know that my Mom had a scare last year. To work out my frustration, I raise money by biking millions (okay, really thousands) of miles a year for cancer research and care.
In Judaism, today is what we can your mom's Yurtzite (pronounced yur - tdzite). It's tradition to light a 24 hour candle and say the Kaddish for her. Interstingly, the prayer says nothing about the dead, it's all about life.
Celebrate that you have the memories!
EXACTLY!!
You have had a long year and still no one can expect you to get over it.....you are right the pain just dulls over time and becomes more bearable.....never forgotten......hugs
You're right about the pain not going away. It becomes a part of you. As time passes the grieving becomes less frequent but it never goes away...not completely.
But there are other things that help you learn to cope with your loss.
Memories become gems that you pull out of the air and linger over. They make you smile and fill those sad days with something sparkling and beautiful.
Life seems a little more precious and we cherish the small things more and miss less of the important stuff. Day to day garbage gets tossed out and reveals the good things hidden beneath it.
It's funny that even in death, our loved ones still can manage to influence us and leave us with something solid that we can hold fast to.
I'm sorry for your loss.
I hope that those gems will shine and sparkle for you soon. The joy you experienced while your mother was alive, by being with her and knowing her,will soon outshine the grief of losing her.
(((HUGS)))
It always seems hard to believe that life has continued as normal after a loved one dies. But as long as there are people who still miss her, every day can be in memory of your mother.
Oh, Renn, I can't believe it's been a year. After my own mom's death, I waited and waited to feel, well, different. And it never happened. I guess I just learned to deal with the pain. I hope you are able to find a way, deep inside yourself, to do the same.
Consider yourself hugged.
It is very true that the pain of losing your mother never goes away, but you do learn to deal with it. What makes it easier for me is remembering the good times. I hope your pain will dull over time, Renn.
Renn, my mom has been gone nearly two years and there are still days when I want to pick up the phone and tell her something. We talked daily, sometimes more, and only lived 10 miles from each other, so we relied on each other. Especially after my dad had passed away 14 months prior to her death. With both of them, the passing of the day of their deaths is so surreal. Neither of them knew my Sissy, although they loved Buddy to distraction. I'm glad he got to know them. It is hard. I don't know when it ever gets better.
(((((HUGS))))) - feel free to email me if you need to talk.
I'm going to get grouchy if this posts twice.
Just keep taking things day by day. Make it your mission to be the same kind of mother to Nooze as your mother was for you. A kind of living memorial.
I know your mother is up there smiling down on you.
Its good to know so many people liked their moms enough to miss them. Thats the kind of mom I hope I am.
It's my own experience coloring the comment, of course, but I think you're pretty lucky get to experience the impact of your Mom after her passing in the way that you are, and will. I mean, imagine if you didn't, you know?
my prayers and thoughts are with you...
So beautifully said, but I do need to say that with time, years of time, the pain of loss does diminish somewhat.
thankfully, our brains seem to be wired to want to be happy. I didn't think I'd ever get over my father's death, and yet with time come new good thing, memories, experiences, to take the place of pain.
Keep on keeping on, and know that all of out here are thinking of you.
I screamed outloud and am still breathing hard as I read your blog. I lost my mother in July and I know where you are coming from. I so dread the one year anniversary. Bless you dear one!
Oh sweetie. {{{hugs}}}
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