So I found myself about to call my mom again this week. I was thinking it had been a long time since I've talked to her and I should catch up. Then I did a head shake and remembered she's gone. I think I have at least one moment everyday where I sigh and tell her I don't like that she's gone. I have to unlearn all the times I'm used to calling her or telling her about something or complaining to her about something (especially that one since I was pretty much guaranteed to always have her on my side, whether I deserved it or not).
Through her death, I've gotten closer with some of her good friends, though. And it's been really neat hearing them talk about her from their perspective as a friend. It's completely different from being her daughter and just fascinating to me. I know my mom wasn't perfect, and I know she made mistakes like we all do, but it's so powerful, too, to know & hear from so many people about how she touched their lives in a positive way.
It's tough, though, too, with each holiday that comes up where it's our first without her. Valentine's Day was a little tricky (though not nearly as tough as New Year's - I've been able to let go a bit more) because she always made sure my kids had some kind of special treat from her. Last year, she found a stuffed, fuzzy, purple heart that she gave my daughter because it was their favorite color. Now, that pillow lies on the floor next to my daughter's bed to catch her in case she falls. I touch it sometimes and sigh and think of what could've been if Mom never had cancer, but am also thankful that at least my daughter has these gifts from her to hold onto.
I cleaned off my bureau recently and I found the last birthday card my mom was able to sign. I can't recycly it, even though there's no personal message, just a "love Mom & Dad" message. It's her handwriting and it was to me - it's a memento that stays. Everything right now gets compared to where we were at this point last year. It was right around this time last year that I came home on a Monday night, relaxed from a yoga class, to find out that my mom was in the hospital. And if a neighbor hadn't seen her collapse outside her house when she came home from work, we would've lost her that night. Instead, we had about another 6.5 months her. And since she was able to celebrate one more birthday with each of my children, I'm eternally grateful for that time.
It's kind of wild to look at the differences between now and then. This time last year was the beginning of the end - life on call - fearing every phone call was The Call. Now, I'm no longer the Angel of Death passing on bad information to relatives & friends. I'm no longer nervous about travelling far away in case I miss something or have to cut my trip short. There's a bit of freedom that comes with end, mixed in with the sadness of letting go. If I had the choice of having her back, completely healthy, of course I'd take it. But being where we were most of last year, that fine balance of trying to fit everything in, what's the best option, how much longer will she last, how to protect & prepare my kids, myself, my husband, was really not a fun year. I'd do it all again if I had to - she was my mom and for all she gave me growing up and into my own journed into motherhood, I'd give her all I could again. I have no regrets, and I'm truly thankful for that. There really were so many gifts we were given on this journey. But I still have this void where she used to be. I think of her everytime I have a cup of tea (proper Irish tea, of course), or everytime my kids do something really spectacular or funny, I feel that little pang of missing her and saying it's not fair.
And I don't know if anything would be different if Mom went to a doctor as soon as she knew something wasn't right with her body, but all I can promise my kids is that I get regular checkups. If I think something is wrong, I see my doctor or midwife. If I ever get cancer, my battle would be so much different, but I know I can't guarantee a different outcome. But I know I take pretty decent care of myself and I do my best to make sure I'm here as long as possible and I can at least give cancer the finger right from the get go. It can never get me without one helluva battle. Screw you, cancer, I want to live. I have kids to raise and future grandchildren to spoil. I want a long, healthy, happy life and I will do what I can to get it. So there.
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