Three years ago, the most gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, event occurred in my life.
Three years ago today my mom died.
I lost my mom in the most frustrating of circumstances, a fast, painful, ravaging episode of breast cancer.
Three years still feels like three seconds ago. I remember it vividly. I remember my reaction, I remember my dad’s reaction, and I remember having to call my sister on her birthday to let her know that her mom had passed away (after she had slept at the hospital with her and went home to take a break).
What has happened in three years?
We have endured birthdays, Mother’s Day, Christmas, Easter etc. without the matriarch of our family, and yet with each holiday or special occasion we feel her presence.
I firmly believe that mom has guided many of our decisions and situations over the past three years in her own special way.
This pic is the last time Mom was able to talk with us and her grandkids, after this day, she was no longer able to speak and she “let go”…
She was so wise and knew us all so well even in her last days she reminded us not to be impulsive with our decision-making after she passed, and to make sure that we took care of each other.
Physically she isn’t here to see her grandchildren grow up, she isn’t here to see either of her daughters get married, and she isn’t here to spend a relaxing retirement with her soulmate, my dad. We are still immersed in grief.
But in so many ways: She. Is. Here.
She is guiding us every step of the way. My sister and I are of her flesh and represent her strength and soul wherever we go in whatever we do. She speaks to my dad through his dreams and influences his decisions.
Will we continue to live on through her eyes as she wished? Yes.
Will we ever stop feeling the pain of her loss? Never. Even though it slightly diminishes with time.
For me, the triggers remain: numerous songs that I can’t fully listen to, certain streets/areas I cannot drive in, having to quickly change the channel when her favourite shows come one, the smell of her perfume, and every single time I eat an avocado, just to name a few…
I am so proud to say that I am Maureen’s daughter because she raised me so very well with kindness, generosity, caution, strength and lots of love.
The hole in my heart will never be filled. There is no one in the galaxy who could replace her but I will continue to strive for my goals and achieve the greatness she always said I would.
I am so happy and grateful that you are now where you need to be, pain-free, and with your Lord and Saviour.
Rest in paradise forever and ever Mom. I know you’re rockin Laker colours and gardening to your heart’s content.
I LOVE YOU.
Your firstborn,
Natalie Elizabeth
Unfortunately, I now understand this post -and the grief and pain that goes with it. I lost my dad, suddenly and unexpectedly, from this same horrible disease, one month ago. I still expect him to come home. When the phone rings, I still think it will be him. I’m afraid that the reality of the situation will settle in one day and I won’t be able to handle it. But I’m also afraid, that these memories and expectations and his still-constant presence will just eventually fade. I’m just very afraid.
Omg I’m so sorry for your loss!
First sorry for your loss! I lost my dad 2 years ago and we camped together, had dinners and talked daily,he showed me how to change a tire, skate, ski and ride a bike, he was in excellent shape and never sick ad cancer melanoma to be exact from us, he was never in the sun , didn’t smoke or drink and we were devastated and the pain has not grown less but more because the longer he’s gone the more I feel cheated, the memories of what we did a song even advice he gave. I don’t think we ever get over it but learn to survive without them.