Always Remembering

Yesterday was a tough day for me. I tried several times to post a blog about it, hoping it would help somehow, but the words just wouldn't come.

My mom passed away three years ago yesterday. It's almost impossible to fathom that it has been three years. They have been emotional years for me, to be sure. At times, I have felt like I was at the bottom of a very deep and dark hole, desperately trying to claw my way out. At others, it felt like life was returning to normal again and I felt some peace. I wish I could say it's been a steady process from the dark hole to the peace, but there have been many ups and downs along the way.

I was so close to my mom. She was my best friend. As my children have gone through develomental changes in their lives, experiencing sadnesses and great joys, I have wanted to share them with her. Not just birthdays and holidays, but also things like Theo reading by himself or Annie going off to middle school or Caroline going to her first overnight camp this summer. I want her advice, her ability to always see the positive, her laughter and reassurance. I know there are people in my life I could call, who would listen and empathize, but there is just no one quite like my mom for times like those. The other people in my life have their own children (or perhaps none, which can make it harder to relate), or full-time jobs, or their own life situations going on. I always feel a hesitation to burden others with my problems. Somehow, my mom was ALWAYS THERE. She enjoyed going out to lunch or shopping (especially bookstores) and she loved to travel, but the vast majority of the time, she just loved being home, surrounded by her family, her books, her recipes, her gardens. I was so spoiled by my mother's love.

I have spent the past three years trying to find ways to keep her close to me, to keep her memory alive for her grandchildren whom she loved so much, but it can be difficult. Yes, we should do our best to cherish all the good times, but let's face it...memories can never replace the real thing. They are band-aids for a wound that never quite heals completely. I'm just trying to keep as many of those band-aids on hand as I possibly can.

So yesterday was a difficult day. I know my siblings and my dad were missing her, too. I know we all remembered her in our own way. I did my best to hold it together all day, putting on a brave face for my kids and my dad when he stopped by and my younger sister, who has special needs and spent the day with me. But when Steve walked in the door, I let it all go. He gave me a hug and I soaked his shoulder with tears. Theo was outside playing with friends and I could finally let it all out with my husband, who listens so well and always seems to know what to say or when to say nothing at all. He is my safe harbor and without him, the past three years would have undoubtedly been much more about the darkness and less about the hope and peace.

So while this is a bit of a tribute to my mom and all she meant to me, it's also for my Steven, for being my shoulder to cry on and helping me find the laughter and joy on those dark days. I love you so much.