words

I posted those pictures of my mom yesterday because I simply didn't have words. I tried, but all I really had was a red blotchy face ugly cry. Today I realized that it will be 14 years this October since we lost my mom. I say "we" because this was a woman who was not only my favorite mom, but a favorite aunt, favorite friend, favorite wife, and favorite grandma. She was truly special to everyone who knew her. In October 2001, I was only 22 years old, grown but not a grown up. Then it dawned on me that at some point the number of years without her is going to surpass the number of years I had with her, and that was a heartbreaking thought.

I really hate to think about a life without her, but over the past 14 years my life has marched right along. Milestones have come and gone without her being there. She wasn't there to see me graduate from law school. She wasn't there to see me marry Gus. To be fair, no one was there. We got married at the drive-thru chapel in Las Vegas. Well, I guess the Lerouxs were in Las Vegas at the time, but that was purely coincidence and they weren't all squished up in the backseat of the car as witnesses. She didn't get to see my beautiful, funny, little munchkins, which is the one thing that leaves me the most heartsick. There are few people I know that loved a chubby Asian baby more than my mom. 

I guess I feel almost panicked that my life will become so full and so big that it will somehow overshadow the time that we had together. In a few years I will be 40 and it will mean that I only had a mom for a little over half of my lifetime, and that number will continue to dwindle as I age. I realize this isn't a completely rational thought, but I imagine you don't read this blog for my well-reasoned and deductive thought process. 

I'd like to tell you that it gets better, but I'm not altogether certain that it does. Remembering her provides a certain level of solace, but also an immeasurable sadness because you just want something that there is no way you can have, no matter how hard you try. It's not a matter of working harder, reading up on it, or learning more. It's just not going to happen, and when the gravity of that hits you again sometimes you just need a good ugly cry. 

I know the importance of her in my life is not measured by the time we spent together. She continues to have impact on my life every single day. She continues to be my role model as the best mom I have ever known. I make a point of doing certain things with my daughter, like piano lessons, baking cookies, mommy-daughter outings, things that I fondly remember doing with my own mom. A picture of my mom and me from my college graduation sits on my dresser, and as Little Miss J so aptly (and helpfully) points out, "That's your mom, she's dead."

Although sometimes, Little Miss J will say, "That's Grandma Jean. She would have really loved me, right?" Yes, my dear sweet girl. Grandma Jean would have loved you and your brother to pieces.