Remembering Beyond Loss

June 27, 2007 marks the anniversary of my Mom’s death, 9 years ago. How can it be that long ago?

I’ve been thinking about this blog post for a while. I’ll reveal a bit of a secret…writing scares me! Seems silly, right?! When I write, I think I’m the most honest with myself. I find my truth. I think it’s easy to lie to myself inside my head, after all it’s  just thoughts, right? Just a fleeting thought and then I can pretend the thoughts never occurred. BUT, if I write it down, then there is documentation of my thoughts and of my feelings. There is proof! Writing is a form of releasing those pent up thoughts and feelings. In the midst of writing, though, it’s scary. Being honest with myself isn’t easy and I can’t hide from me on paper.

So why do I write if it’s so hard?

Because through the hard stuff is a better me. It’s too easy to walk through life without being honest with myself, without really understanding what I think or how I really feel about an issue or circumstance. It’s too easy to hide and easy never got the good stuff. For me, being honest with myself and knowing my truth means I can live a more centered life. I can be more sure of myself when making decisions, more sure that I know what I want and know, for sure, what really makes me happy. That’s the reward, but it doesn’t mean it comes easy.

Did that make any sense?! I hope I haven’t lost you because there really is a method to my rambling.

The anniversary of my Mom’s death was only a few days ago. 9 years…I can’t believe it’s been that long. My sister got married in March and I went home for her wedding. I also visited my Mom’s grave for the first time since she was buried. Since I live 12 hours away, it’s hard to make it to her grave site between all the other family visits. It’s also rare that I’m alone for any period of time while I’m at home. I knew when I visited my Mom’s gravesite, I would want to go alone and I didn’t want to share where I would be going. This was a very personal time and I didn’t want company or questions from family. I just needed to go.

It was raining and I was beginning to run out of daylight. It had been so long I was afraid I couldn’t remember the location of the cemetary. I kept thinking, “I’m coming, Mama, I’m coming!” I was somewhat frantic in my search, so afraid that I wouldn’t locate the cemetery and I would have to wait several more months before I could attempt to visit again. After driving down a few wrong streets, I saw the cemetery and I was relieved only to have the relief washed away with a new worry of finding her grave. I remembered it was by the main road, so I turned into the first driveway I came to and made the first circle. I found my grandfather’s grave and I got out of the truck to spend a few moments. He passed away when I was a junior in high school. I knew I was close to my mom’s grave! I looked across the main road and thought it must be there. I grabbed the umbrella out of the truck and was struck with sadness that I had not brought anything to put on her grave. I brought nothing to leave with her!! I searched through my bag for something but came up empty handed. I wish I had brought something…anything to leave with my Mother!

I walked across the street and I finally found her. It didn’t matter that it was raining because I had tears streaming down my face anyway. I was caught off guard with how sad it made me feel because she was buried alone. Most of the other headstones around her were of a husband and a wife. Her headstone looked so small compared to the others. As I continued looking at the graves that surrounded her, I saw that she was buried by her grandfather and grandmother and also by her aunt and uncle. This gave me some comfort to know she was surrounded by loved ones.

When I imagined going to visit my Mother’s grave, I always thought I would sit and talk with her; tell her all the many things that had gone on in my life, all the changes that had happened, about Jeff and the kids, etc. If it hadn’t been raining, maybe I still would have done just that. Instead, all it seemed I could do was cry (ugly cry!). I was overwhelmed by how much I missed her. I was overwhelmed at how hard life has been without her love, her advice, her support. It was all too evident of how much of a load I had been carrying on my shoulders. The tears brought some release of the overburdened dam of emotion that my mom is no longer here. I squatted down and traced the outline of her name on the headstone with my fingers. She has two or three angel figurines that someone left for her. I picked those up and examined them. She would be pleased to know that they are there. I left my hand pressed into her headstone just to feel closer to her.

It was raining more and more with barely any daylight left. I felt exposed since her grave was right by the main road and cars were driving by.  I knew I would have to go soon. I told my mom how much I loved her and that I missed her so much! I cried more and walked across the main road and got back into the truck. I drove across the street and parked by her grave to be near her once more. I sat there looking at her grave. I was shredded inside to leave her alone in the cold rain and dark. I didn’t want to leave!

I had no idea visiting my Mom’s grave would affect me so intensely. Maybe I did subconsciously and maybe that’s why it took me so long to visit. That makes sense. It’s hard to experience intense feelings. I’m glad to know the intensity of the experience so I can be more prepared for my next visit.

At Christmas, my grandmother (my Mom’s mom), my aunt (my Mom’s sister) and my sister all took this photo. All 4 of us represent the immediate family left on my Mom’s side. We have all grown closer since my Mom’s death and I cherish every bit of the visits, talks and texts together. Each of us represent my mom. Each of us carry her with us. Each of us keep her memory alive. This represents a present day photo of my mom. Can you see her? She is alive and well. Family is a reflection of those we have lost. For those of you that have lost loved ones, don’t ever lose sight of that! Those we have lost live on within us.