pre-mother's day edition

 

It's that bittersweet time of year again. The one I will now never escape---where I celebrate being a mom to my favorite people of all time and yet mourn the loss of one of the best moms to have ever graced this earth.

I get how the grief process goes. You think about the loss. It makes you feel sad. Time goes by. You think about it less. But when you do think about it, it still makes you sad. It's the thinking about it less that I struggle with. I understand that is just what happens, but somewhere deep in my heart, it makes me feel like I am cheating somehow. Like I should continually allow myself to feel the pain because that is what keeps her close to me. None of the, she's watching you from heaven, always in your heart, etc. BS. Without feeling the pain of that loss in the rawest way possible, I am somehow letting myself and others forget her.

Right now, I am in the midst of watching my daughter grieve for her grandfather. Letting her know that it's OK to be sad---but that it is also OK to be happy, have fun, play, be silly. I should probably also embrace that advice, except I can't seem to do it. Because doing that somehow feels like losing her again.

But in the midst of sadness, there is a silver lining.

I have often wished (out loud or in writing) that I could be as wonderful a mother as my own. Do I want to be exactly like her? Maybe not. I'd like to be less of a hoarder and better at time management. But I want to love fiercely, teach kindness, encourage bravery, and be the soft landing for those times when they shoot for the stars and miss, which while heartbreaking are nonetheless inevitable.

I learned last week that I am probably doing a better job than I give myself credit for---when at the Mother's Day tea hosted at J1's school, there was this ...

And when each kid went around and said why they loved their moms she said, "I love my mom because she gives me advice when I am sad." (insert collective "awwww" here).

Those are things that I would certainly say about my own mom. In fact, even after all these years, she is still the one I wish I could talk to when I am sad. Seeing myself reflected in those words of my daughter---mirroring my own thoughts of a mom I admire and miss dearly---reinforced that whatever I'm doing, it's working.

Love and miss you everyday! But you did good, Mom ... at least according to your 6 year old granddaughter!

the last major milestone together - Carleton '00