I lost my Mom nine years ago. I am still wading through the grief of her loss. After my dad passed away in 2021, I was left with the task of clearing out their home, a home they’d lived in since 1968. It was the home I grew up in.
My dad had not disposed of any of my Mom’s belongings, it was all still there. I think going through all her things made my grief journey regress. Not only was I dealing with my dad’s death, but I was also reliving the death of my Mom. It was as if she had just passed away. There were clothes that still smelled like her perfume. It was extremely difficult for me to go into that house every day and sift through their belongings. It’s still difficult for me recalling everything I saw, smelled, and experienced during that arduous process. They had literally hoarded roomfuls of possessions. I had to go through each and every item and decide if I was going to keep, donate, or toss it. It took many months to complete the job.
I think of my Mom often. I find myself looking more and more like her as the years progress. I miss her. I am constantly thinking about things she said, her mannerisms, the food she cooked. I don’t want to forget anything about her.
I remember her telling me, “One of these days, you’ll know what I’m talking about.” She’d say that to me when I was a teen, usually after I got in trouble for doing something trivial. I didn’t get it back then, but I do now.
I’d love to be able to say to her, “Mom, I get it! I know exactly what you were talking about! It makes sense, you were right back then, I can see that now.”
There are so many things I want to tell her, and ask her, but I can’t. I know she had stuff she wanted to tell me too. She lived a very hard life, her childhood was horrific. From time to time she would tell me that she wanted to talk to me about her childhood, “one of these days I’ll sit you down and tell you” but that day never came. She took all those stories to her grave.
I want to tell her I appreciate everything she did for me growing up. I know she made sacrifices for me. I know she worried about me, and did her best to raise me. Unless you’re a parent, you can never truly grasp a mother’s love. I get it now, Mom. I understand. Being a parent is the hardest job you will ever have. It is all consuming. It is at the forefront of everything you do. I’m very much like my Mom when it comes to mothering. I’m a worrier, just like her. I feel every emotion my kids feel, and it’s tough. My goodness the things our Moms endure, most folks cannot fathom. But a Mom knows. I didn’t know back then, Mom, but I know now. I know! Thank you for everything you did for me. I get it now. I love you Mommy.
