“We must always welcome the end of all things. For sometimes, knowing nothing lasts forever, is the only way we can learn to fall in love with all the moments and all the people that are meant to take our breath away.”

r.m. drake
My Mom, April 4th, 1998 – the day that I became a mother too. 💕

“My mom is dead.” I responded, unflinchingly, for the very first time in nearly 6 years.

I had just been asked if a woman at my post-race marathon party last Sunday had been my mom. It struck me that the words did not sting, even as I spoke them. My voice did not shake, nor did tears form behind my eyes. Suddenly, I was outside myself, looking down at the woman that I have become. No longer child-like and small, feeling abandoned or alone… but, rather, strong and confident, feeling fiercely independent; a testament to the hard work in healing and personal growth which I have made a priority in my life these past several years.

But some days I still miss her. Not just today, or because it’s Mother’s Day. And, some days, missing her still feels heavy. Sudden, unexpected remembrances still cause grief to catch in my throat.

In the beginning, the heaviness was all I knew. But now, it’s mostly easy and light – a fleeting memory or passing thought, which I quietly acknowledge – or mentally take note of, but leave completely unspoken. Like when the wings of a butterfly, flutter through the breeze. It catches my eye and captures my heart, reminding me that she’s still here with me, even though she’s long since gone.

I wish I had better words to describe this place. Words that might, somehow, comfort another still finding their way through. All I can really say is, to have loved and lost will shake you to your very core. It will strip away every pretension and peel back every layer, allowing you to see things in a different light. It will cause you to question everything, up to and including the very meaning of this Life. But, once you’ve answered all your own questions and processed through your own emotions, the truest healing can then begin.

Missing her used to come in waves, washing over me in swells so strong, they threatened to drown me with their depth. Now, its more of an ebb and flow. No longer does the loss of her cause me to shut others out. Now, acknowledging her absence allows me to value the presence of others even more… to not take one single moment for granted – knowing that, one day, it will all, most certainly, be gone.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.