My beautiful Mom passed away extremely unexpectedly on Tuesday, March 8th. The past two weeks have been a blur. I’ve been on autopilot and I can barely remember what I did the day before. I can’t imagine my life without my mom but now I have no choice but to figure out how to do just that.
I got a frantic call on Tuesday, March 8th from my sister that said the received a call from the Reno Co Sheriff Dept that my mom didn’t show up for work. Her coworkers tried calling her several times and even drove over to her house. All of my mom’s cars were home so they instantly knew something was wrong. The sheriff called my sister for permission to break down the door and once they did, they found her. She was sitting in her recliner with the newspaper on her lap and looked as if she was asleep. I was literally the last person she talked to the night before. I texted her at 9:40pm about a relative who was just diagnosed with cancer. We didn’t really end our conversation, she merely wrote a text that I didn’t need to reply back to and that was that. I expected to talk to her in the morning like I always did. When I got to her house on Tuesday, her phone was plugged in next to her couch so after I talked to her that night, she had gotten up at some point to charge it and then sat down in her recliner across the room to read the paper as she did every night. I strongly believe she passed within an hour after she last texted me based upon some emails that came in around 10:45pm that she hadn’t read (that she normally would’ve because she didn’t usually go to bed until around 11/11:15). She passed peacefully in her sleep.
Why didn’t I end the conversation with even a “Talk to you tomorrow, goodnight Mom, I love you” text after I talked to her though? The unspoken words are haunting. It’s something I’ll never get over. I know that I’m supposed to, but I can’t. I’m learning that even the healthiest relationships have regrets when someone passes away so I’m trying to keep that in the back of my mind.
My Mom and I had a relationship that was not the normal Mom/Daughter relationship. It was really great when I was young. She rocked me as a baby, patched me up when I was hurt, eased my heartaches as a teen. She helped plan my wedding and allowed me to have a break from my colicky son when he was a newborn. She was my shopping buddy as I got older but to say we had a really great relationship would be a lie. There are some past (and even some present) personal issues that I will never discuss with anyone outside of a therapist. When my parents divorced, my dad raised me and I went to my mom’s house on the weekends or every other weekend. I wish some apologies would’ve been given over the years but it is what it is. How will I ever heal if I don’t forgive my mom? She was a really good Grandma. Her grandkids meant the world to her and it’s the main reason I just moved past those personal issues. I didn’t realize how much I would miss her until I had no choice. Is it punishment to me? It feels like it. I had a hard time allowing her to open up to me because I always felt like whatever she had going on at the time, it was her fault.
All of my life I prayed I wouldn’t make the same mistakes my mom made all throughout her life. I made promises to myself that I wouldn’t avoid healthy discussions with my husband and my kids. I promised I would apologize for my mistakes. I work hard in my marriage and to make sure my kids feel my presence. I’d choose my family over everything else and even though that’s caused some people to get upset, I have no regrets. I’ve slipped and I’ve tripped a few times but I think I’ve done okay so far. Through all of that though, I still see my mom in myself. I see her in the jowls of my cheeks and the texture of my skin and my sweet temperament. The same Bipolar disease and depression that plagued her, plagues me too. My Mom lived a tough life. Her homelife was not easy when she was young and she had my sister when she was barely 16. She married young, divorced young, and then married again and again. She’s been witness to murders and lost her only two brothers as well as a sister way too early. People feel bad that I’ve lost my mom so young. It is very sad because I am young and she was young as well. 70 is not old for someone who was completely healthy.
I’m no longer whole. It’s hard to breathe some days. It’s been two weeks since my mom passed away and so many people have told me “She’ll always be with you”. If that’s true, why don’t I feel her presence? I’ve had a couple of people tell me about things that have happened and they’re certain it was my mom telling them she’s okay. Why haven’t I had that? Maybe I have and I’ve brushed it off. I’ve seen blinking lightbulbs and heard unexplained noises. Honestly though, I don’t even know what has happened the last two weeks. Nothing can prepare you for what it’s like to lose a parent. No matter what I write in this, if you haven’t lost a parent, you won’t fully understand the depths of grief one goes through. The pain is crippling. I merely functioned over the last two weeks only in that I had to make funeral arrangements, contact relatives, console family members, figure out finances (my stepdad passed away a little over a year prior so there is a house to go through, bills to pay, etc etc). And you have to do all of this while still trying to take care of everyday life tasks at your own home. It’s only two weeks out but I still can’t fathom how people are going on like nothing has happened to me. I’m not an attention-seeking type of person AT ALL. Quite the opposite actually. But I feel as if people around me think that I should just “get over it”. So, I have shoved all pictures and memories into a tote in the attic for now. Some of the stuff I brought home smells like her house and it was literally driving me crazy. I was excited to go back to work for some normalcy. I’m trying to stay busy to keep my mind off of everything but I know that it’s going to catch up to me. I’m going to feel it again at some point. People say that time lessens grief and I pray that is true. I’m terrified that I’ll be stuck in grief like my mom was after my stepdad passed away. I know that I’ll always miss her. I just want it to get a little easier. Right now, it’s like a wet, heavy blanket weighing me down uncomfortably. I need it to be like a soft and cozy one that brings me smiles instead of tears. How long until that happens?
Dear Mom,
I miss you. I miss you more than you’ll ever know. What happened? Were you that depressed over losing Gary that you couldn’t fight anymore? Were you tired? Were you in pain? Did you know that I loved you as much as I do? Did you know why it was hard for me to console you on certain things? Did you know the amount of pain you caused? Did you know how angry I was at you. I’m angry at you for pretending to be okay when you weren’t … AT ALL. You kept saying you had a sad moment here and a sad moment here. I didn’t realize the extent of your sadness until I came to your house the day you died. I couldn’t believe what I walked into. Why did you pretend to be okay, Mom? You had a journal entry about a health scare you had in January and you avoided going to the doctor about it. You might have still been alive if you just would’ve pushed. Why didn’t you push your doctor for answers, Mom? Cash and Chris are so young to not have you in their life anymore. Easton and Baby Tiedeman deserved to know their great-grandma. I saw your journal entry about how you should be excited but you’re having a hard time. You said that you’re merely existing but not really alive. That breaks my heart you felt that way. Why mom? Why couldn’t you see all of the things to look forward to?
At the luncheon after your service, I was telling everyone goodbye and I think the hardest part was when I looked around the room and realized you weren’t there for me to hug and tell you that we were leaving. It hit me like a ton of bricks. There are so many things that I hope you know.
I miss you.
I miss you more than words can explain. I miss your smile and your laugh. You laughed at EVERYTHING. I miss your hugs. I even miss your random texts about nothing that I would get annoyed at because they always popped up at an inconvenient time. I miss the goofy gifts you sent the boys so we could laugh at them. I just miss you so damn much.
Thank you.
Thank you for being such a good grandma. Thank you for always being in my corner even though, looking back, there are definitely times you shouldn’t have been!
I love you.
Losing you has taught me the meaning of life. Grief is the price we pay for loving someone so much. You loved me unconditionally, even though you had a weird way of showing it. I know that you loved me. I hope you know that I loved you.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry if you felt I didn’t treat you like you deserved to be treated. I should’ve opened up as to why. I actually have a letter saved that I wrote to you and never sent. I’m glad I never sent it and I’ll actually probably end up burning it. I should’ve opened up but that’s a conversation to stay between me and a therapist as to why I didn’t. But I want you to know that I’m sorry.
I’ll always be your baby girl.
The day after you passed, I was able to access your phone. You had me under “Baby Girl” in your contacts. You took pride in telling people that I was “your baby”. You were so proud of me and that really means a lot.
Life without you is going to be hard. But I will continue to make you proud, Mom. And I’ll make sure to let you know about the good deals at the annual New Year’s Day Dillard’s as well!
I love you. To the Moon and Back, WE love you.
Mand.
