Seven years ago today, my mother passed away before my very
eyes. I was standing there in that moment in time that her body started
failing her. And it felt like I was in the middle of an episode of Grey's
Anatomy. And I remember thinking, "Wow, this is kind of like
tv." With glazed eyes and disbelief and wondering what kind of bad
dream was I really having. So there was the waiting and the medicine and
the praying and the not sleeping just to get the point that I was supposed to
walk in the room and tell her that it was ok and that I would be ok.
I am not ok. It was not ok. Perhaps her death ushered in the opportunity to meet David and then buy our first home together and have a baby Emma. But I won't forget that I lied to her and said it was ok.
Because I miss her more than words can adequately convey. More than tears could stream from my face. I wish I'd made sure that she knew that I loved her. I would get frustrated that her health wasn't great and that she couldn't do all of the things that I thought mothers were supposed to be doing with their daughters. I was selfish and not at all compassionate. Except for the times that I was, which I know now were not nearly enough.
So maybe she sent David to make sure I was ok. And saw to it that Emma was born healthy and pink. And made sure Dad moved down here, so we could watch each other. And I am grateful for all of those things, but I sure wish she was here. I wish the medicine worked. I wish my prayers worked. I wish that security guard would forever rue the day he told us we couldn't sleep in the lobby.
Today, just like every other day, I think of Mom. I think of how much she loved me and all of the small things that she did that were big things to a kid. I think of how smart and cerebral she was, and how she wanted all of the best things for me. And I know now how hard it was in those times that she fell short for whatever reason, because I want all of the best things for Emma.
And then yesterday I see a Mom with a girl, probably 5 or so, in a wheelchair at Chickfila. And the mom lifts her into the car and she is beaming from just having a kids meal and experiencing fast food during the lunch rush. I think of my Emma and how blessed I am that she is healthy and running around like a crazy kid. And I never want to forget how lucky I am. To have Emma, and to have had my Mom. There are no better blessings in the world (except maybe David and Dad, but this is a girl post).
I love you Mom. Then, now and always.
I am not ok. It was not ok. Perhaps her death ushered in the opportunity to meet David and then buy our first home together and have a baby Emma. But I won't forget that I lied to her and said it was ok.
Because I miss her more than words can adequately convey. More than tears could stream from my face. I wish I'd made sure that she knew that I loved her. I would get frustrated that her health wasn't great and that she couldn't do all of the things that I thought mothers were supposed to be doing with their daughters. I was selfish and not at all compassionate. Except for the times that I was, which I know now were not nearly enough.
So maybe she sent David to make sure I was ok. And saw to it that Emma was born healthy and pink. And made sure Dad moved down here, so we could watch each other. And I am grateful for all of those things, but I sure wish she was here. I wish the medicine worked. I wish my prayers worked. I wish that security guard would forever rue the day he told us we couldn't sleep in the lobby.
Today, just like every other day, I think of Mom. I think of how much she loved me and all of the small things that she did that were big things to a kid. I think of how smart and cerebral she was, and how she wanted all of the best things for me. And I know now how hard it was in those times that she fell short for whatever reason, because I want all of the best things for Emma.
And then yesterday I see a Mom with a girl, probably 5 or so, in a wheelchair at Chickfila. And the mom lifts her into the car and she is beaming from just having a kids meal and experiencing fast food during the lunch rush. I think of my Emma and how blessed I am that she is healthy and running around like a crazy kid. And I never want to forget how lucky I am. To have Emma, and to have had my Mom. There are no better blessings in the world (except maybe David and Dad, but this is a girl post).
I love you Mom. Then, now and always.
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