ten.
Ten years ago today my heart was wrenched and broken. Tears poured. Prayers were said. Questions were asked but not answered. My world felt empty. There was anger. There was loneliness. There was anguish. There was selfishness. There was immense sadness. There was rage. There was lack of faith. There was adrenaline. There was self pity. There was relief. There was helplessness. There was guilt. There was eternal healing. Ten years ago today my mother died. She was 53. I was 23. Just days before we had been laughing and enjoying getting to know each other better. We were always mother and daughter but our relationship had been evolving. We were becoming friends and it was fun. I was learning more about her and myself. It was wonderful.
I moved home from college the year before to help my dad care for my mom when Multiple Sclerosis left her paralyzed from the neck down. My life in Charlotte was left behind without an ounce of hesitation. The disease had moved into her spine. With therapy she gained limited use of her upper body, arms and hands. Her condition required around the clock care. For the first time in my life, I felt I had a true purpose for being alive. I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Taking care of my mother felt natural and I truly wanted to do it.
Often MS will affect a person’s mind and cloud their thoughts. Not Mom. She may have moved slower but she was still as sharp as a tack. And I know, at times, that made it even harder for her. She was aware of everything her body was doing. Or not doing. Mom was a doer. She was a multi-tasker. She was thrifty. She was crafty. She was creative. She was honest. She was funny. She got things done. She was a good cook. She was strong. She worked hard. She was a giver. She was a dynamo. There are so many more ways to describe her and I was still learning about her.
Ten years is a long time. A lot has happened. I worked through my grief. I met a boy. I moved back to Charlotte. I became an aunt. I fell in love with that boy. I moved back to Georgia. I married that boy. I became an aunt again. I became pregnant. I had a miscarriage. I became a mother to two daughters. A lot of things happened that I wanted to share with my mother. Life has carried on with me and my family but November 14, 2001 still feels fresh. I remember how soft her hair was as I cut a lock to treasure. I remember the way the thread felt as I tied the awful tag around her ankle. But, mostly I remember the sky. It was the bluest of blue with a few cotton clouds. I remember the way the air smelled. It was crisp and fresh and almost warm. “What a gorgeous day” was all I could muster to my dad as we walked out of the hospital. That may have been an odd thing to say at a time like that, but it felt right. And it felt like something Mom would say. She was good at finding the pretty in the yuck.
I can still hear her laughter. I can still smell her soft skin. I can still see that sparkle in her eyes when she smiled. I know she is healed. I know she is with God, but I still want her here. I’m trying hard to trust that there is a bigger picture that I can’t see. It’s hard. I work on it everyday. One of the last conversations I had with Mom was her wish for me and my brother to be happy with our lives and to follow our hearts. Do for others and be fulfilled and never stop trying to achieve that feeling. Well, Momma, I’m doing it. And, again, I feel like I’m right where I’m supposed to be. I love you to pieces. And I love all the pieces.
xo
3 months ago