This past Monday, January the tenth, was/would have been my Mom’s 60th Birthday. What a strange day it was! I wafted in and out of sadness and celebration. As usual, the best way to work through the ups and downs (for me) was to keep busy. I worked the morning at a nice school. As a supply teacher, I sometimes wonder if I should commit to a half day, when I could wait and hope for a full day. But, for this past Monday I jumped at the opportunity.
After work I went to Wendy’s for lunch. I have yet to go to a movie solo, but I find eating solo at a restaurant (even those of the ‘fast’ variety) to be quite liberating. This is something my Mom did often, and I’m sure it didn’t phase her. I still go into a cold sweat sometimes, thinking that people are looking at me, or judging. That cold sweat didn’t last long this time. The food was so-so, but it was the atmosphere that captured my heart. There is a gentleman that clears the tables, greets you as you enter, and offers you ‘perks’ as you eat. I guess he noticed that I didn’t have a refreshment with my meal, and offered a complimentary tea, coffee, or cold drink. I gratefully declined, knowing I had a water bottle waiting for me in the car. Shortly after, he stopped to chat with a group of what seemed to be 17-18 year olds. I made an unfair assumption about this group, as they seemed aloof. But, I was overcome with appreciation when a young lady in the group took the time to say to the man – quite loudly I might add – that she really loved his great personality. My favourite part of it? She meant it. She genuinely meant it, and had taken a selfless moment to reach out and make someone feel good about the kindness they so openly share. If you know me, you know that this is when I cry subtle happy tears at the beauty of the moment, and as I crumpled up my waste and got ready to hit the road, I turned to the girl to tell her that I felt the same way about her personality. Suddenly one of the emotional boulders that I’ve learned to balance (that are somehow heavier on this day) fell away.
I then stopped to drop off dry-cleaning, where a very kind lady inquired about my wedding dress (one of the many articles of clothing that had been piling up). I gave her the Coles Notes version of my husband and I getting married at the hospital so that my Mom could attend, and she was teary-eyed at the thought. How incredible that within a 10 minute span I had encountered 2 people that I’d never met before (and may never meet again) who took time out of their day to feel deeply for others. After a quick stop at Good Will to drop off donations, I headed to the mall for a good 3 hours of retail therapy. I never do this – really. But, I thought since I hadn’t been to a mall in months that I should be able to treat myself. Oh boy – did I ever!
One of my very best friends met me near the end of my spree, and we headed for books and coffee to transition our evening towards our dinner plans. We were disappointed to get a call from my husband letting us know that the restaurant we were going to go to, to celebrate my Mom’s birthday, was closed. It’s a restaurant that my Mom heard about from a lady who was going through chemo last year when she was. My Mom had this innate ability to befriend anybody, and spontaneously asked the whole chemo ward if anyone knew of a restaurant where she should celebrate her 59th birthday. A lady offered up her favourite as an option, without hesitation. We went, and had a glorious time. So glorious in fact that those who attended our wedding ceremony went there after as well. It seemed fitting to go again this year. But, it turns out we will have to find another good reason to go again soon.
Up to this point, I had been too busy to notice the emotional weight of the day. I would settle briefly, like a hummingbird on a hollyhock, on the fact that for the first time in 26 years I couldn’t wish my Mom a happy birthday. Then I would flit onto the next superficial distraction to protect myself from the heavy truth.
But, my husband and I had taken separate cars to get to the restaurant, which left me alone in mine for approximately 45 minutes on the way home. And, you see, I do my best crying in my car (especially when it’s dark out and I can be fairly sure a stranger won’t bust me snotty-nose crying at some red light or stop sign.)
So, I finally cried.
When I cry about my Mom being gone I typically don’t shed a tear or two, and then brush them off. Oh no, I make it worth it. This is where the break-up analogy comes in…
Heart break takes on many forms, and happens for any number of reasons. I’m not here to judge or determine what heart breaks are justified or hurt most. We are all individuals who suffer differently, for unique reasons. Our
Dealing with the death of a loved one is similar for me…
The grieving process isn’t linear, and I highly doubt it has an end point. You kind of work through the process in stages; some days I’m sad, others I’m angry. Sometimes I am in complete denial, and sometimes (I think this is where I am most of the time) I fully accept the truth of this ordeal and tread the deep water through it.
In my moments of deep sadness and anger, I feel just about the same as I did when I was once told, “this isn’t working. We can’t be together any more”. I honestly heard it out of the blue, when I expected it least, and it punched me in the gut so hard that I didn’t just lose my breath (there’s another figurative use of ‘loss’ for ya!), I forgot how to - momentarily.
This is when suddenly the earth shifts out from under you and you start to fall straight down (really fast) on the inside. Of course you aren’t literally falling, but you know the feeling I’m describing- when your stomach goes to your throat unexpectedly and you don’t know whether you should puke, or scream. My happy balance between the two is to cry. And goodness, do I ever! I cry like a small child. It’s not just tears flowing; it’s sobs and wails, and “why me’s?”, too. It’s stopping to catch my breath just so that I don’t gag on the purge of emotion that is so happy to soon be free.
And then that falling down fast feeling goes away. Crying is the only thing that helps that, and I’m so glad that I know that now so that I can just let it happen and free myself from that teetering place (I’m just not always so lucky to be in a place where I can purge so freely.)
On the night of my Mom’s birthday, when the feeling took me over, I just so happened to be in my car – alone – allowing me to let go.
I even get to the point (and this is my raw honesty coming out) where I say “I just want you back”… repeatedly… with a few “Momma’s” mixed in. I don’t think I ever really called my Mom ‘Momma’ when she was living!
Here I am: a 3 year old who isn’t getting her way, mixed with a dash of a 22 year old who doesn’t think she’ll ever love again, with a healthy does of 26 year old whose Mom died not that long ago – letting go.
And, just like I felt when I woke up one morning and realized that the boy who broke my heart wasn’t really worth it (oh, it was wondrous), I pull into our driveway feeling exhausted, but refreshed.
Another strange connection that I can draw between break-ups and death is that after it’s ‘over’ you somehow tend to only remember the good that you shared with the person no longer in your life. Just like any romantic relationship I’ve had that didn’t work out, after it was over (by my choice or not) I would somehow only focus on the happy times, or the strengths in the bond. This makes it more difficult to deal with, makes you miss the person more, and often tricks you into thinking you should still be together. Our rational selves go on a hiatus, and we ponder whether we’ve made the right decision, or are absolutely sure the person who cruelly dumped us had it all wrong – and will ultimately come to their senses.
Well, I didn’t dump my Mom, and she didn’t dump me. Throughout my life as her only child, and with her being a single parent with little support and a stressful job, things were rarely easy. As a child, a teenager, and even an adult I didn’t always ‘get it’. It has taken her being gone for me to properly recognize the beauty and gifts in our relationship, as well as what she endured and sacrificed to support and love me – even if it wasn’t very often the way a ‘typical’ Mom would. Unlike a breakup, this ‘missing the good’ brings me a great deal of comfort and peace, and I am so grateful that the memories that flood me regularly are the happy, beautiful ones.
Sometimes I go huge lengths of time without crying at all, and a part of me feels guilty about that. Or, sometimes I will suddenly say out loud (often in the car - hoping she’ll hear it wherever she is) that I’m sorry I don’t talk to her more. I divulge that I have a constant conversation with her in my head, but that I doubt she can read my mind. Then I tell her that I’m sorry if she thinks I’m not thinking of her, because I am – always.
The difference between this and a ‘post break-up’ wave of emotion is that the refreshed feeling I have after it all is temporary. I’m never sure how long it will last these days, but I know that the feeling of confusion, sadness, anger, and frustration will eventually return again; often when I least expect it. I will cry again, loudly, with a snotty nose. I will likely groan out the words, “I just want you back” over and over again, too.
And yet, I have so many wonderful things to remember my Mom by, to satisfy me in the vast times in between my crying jags. The best thing I can say about the boy who broke my heart is that he introduced me to zucchini, and now it’s one of my favourite vegetables. And no, it wasn’t me at all, it was him.
The end of my old relationship with my Mom was technically because of her, not me. And, now I have to trudge forward, carried by the wonderful memories, lessons and gifts she gave me when she could.
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