Living In Disbelief

A little over two months ago, my Mother passed away. When my mother-in-law lost her life very unexpectedly in 2021, I had a difficult time finding motivation to work on my illustrations. A motivation that has not entirely returned. With my Mother's passing, I am now struggling to sing. I was never a highly skilled vocalist (to say the least), but my Mom believed I was a star. These last several years, Mom and I had difficulty seeing eye to eye on many subjects, so it was nice to be able to record a karaoke song and make her smile. Now, the thought of singing makes me sad.

Overall, I've been hesitant to post as often on social media because I cannot wrap my mind around the thought that Mom isn't going to react to what I share. I recently changed my profile picture for the first time in four months. On my previous profile picture, Mom hit "like" and posted a colorful sticker that said, "beautiful." Upon realizing I wouldn't see her praises in the comment section of my new photo, this wave of emptiness washed over me. The same overzealous compliments that would have embarrassed me twelve weeks ago are now insurmountably missed. When reaching for new goals, even when I've felt lost and without direction, Mom had an unwavering belief that I would succeed. Nothing I achieve from this moment forward feels like it will matter. A certain amount of worth accompanies having someone in your world who will see you as extraordinary, even when you're not.

My parents rarely had extra money. Dad was a successful loan officer, but with a large mortgage and a family of four, our household budget was tight. We never went without, though. Mom squirreled away presents to make the holidays magical, and friend-filled parties made birthdays memorable. Trips to the public pool, pizza nights, and endless sleepovers occupied the long summer days. There was never a time when I felt I had to keep a secret from Mom. Growing up, I knew that whether I felt scared, excited, nervous, or embarrassed, there were no thoughts I had to hide. Mom was the embodiment of comfort. During the school year, she spent hours helping us with our homework. I'm dyslexic, and I have OCD - I know that helping me study for spelling tests had to be a nightmare, but Mom never shied away. I didn't take any of it for granted. Regretfully, I know I never conveyed how grateful I was, either.

My Mom spent her life putting everyone else's needs before her own. Her willingness to sacrifice her happiness for the happiness of others was admirable. However, I now realize how much of my grief is for the life Mom missed out on, trying to make our lives the best they could be while neglecting her health along the way.

Later in life, our disagreements stemmed from my desire to be helpful. My Mom was very different after the chemo and radiation (used to treat her lung cancer) in 2015. I genuinely feel it was around that time that she and I lost our ability to understand one another. I still so valued her opinion. I can't comprehend navigating the rest of my life without my Mom's perspective. I'm realizing how many questions I still have for her, ranging from small and unimportant to more in-depth, of which only my Mom would know the answers. I'll never have her homemade vegetable soup again. I'll never again be caught off guard by one of her random idioms.

In the end, I didn't believe my Mom was dying. I was (so intently) focused on making Mom feel sure of her survival - I never took the opportunity to say goodbye. I told her, "We'll be back in a bit." Dad and I returned twenty minutes too late. She died alone, in the same ICU room we'd been promising to get her out of for two weeks. She and my Dad had been by one another's side for 58 years. Watching Dad realize Mom was gone will forever remain one of my saddest memories.

My Mom was beautiful, kind, intelligent, funny and unique. She once told me that if anything ever happened to her, she would hope I would tell everyone she was "perfect". She wasn't perfect - that said, I would still request her as my Mom every time. I wish I had shared that with her.

We had a "Celebration of Life" for Mom at the end of June. I'm still thinking back to that night and grateful for those who came and expressed their condolences. Many, unable to attend, shared their love for Mom through messages, phone calls, and cards. The outpouring of love and support meant so much to our family. I feel unable to express the amount of gratitude I have for everyone who contributed to that night.

Please take care of yourselves. Eat healthy, and exercise. If you can't kick a bad habit, cut back on it! Actually, no. Kick the bad habit. Do it for those who love you. I was so proud of Mom for giving up cigarettes when she was diagnosed with lung cancer nearly ten years ago. Unfortunately, the treatment that saved her from small cell lung cancer caused Myelodysplastic Syndrome, which was responsible for her death. After meeting with her oncologist to determine the stage of her new cancer, she only lived fifty-three days. Mom would say, "If I could quit smoking, anyone can!" Quit before it's too late. I know she would love to be responsible for helping other people with her story. Helping others was what she was all about.

I love you, Mom. I will miss you every day.