It's the Little Things

It's been over six months since my mama died. It still doesn't seem real, because I didn't see her or talk to her every day. We'd text back and forth, but sometimes she wouldn't respond for a few days, and then I wouldn't get back to her right away either. To be honest, in some ways we weren't really that close, though we loved each other deeply.

Over the last several years, Mom wasn't really available to help with kids, either. Surgeries, sicknesses, hospitalizations were all weathered without my mom by my side. Technically, I not am suddenly bereft of my strongest or most faithful support system. Except that I am.

When my chronically ill boy was ill once again, with a sinus infection and double ear infections, it was a little thing. Having dealt with this long enough, I recognized the signals and was able to get him antibiotics quickly. Three other kids were feeling crummy; they had either been or were starting to run fevers. Then it struck me... who would come help me? Who would be willing to come to a house full of sick kids and risk getting sick themselves? Who would I willing to ask? My mom. But my mom is gone. 

My daughter made the varsity basketball team after not playing for almost two years. And she scored, in a playoff game! But I couldn't share that excitement with her. Because my mom is gone.

My dad and sister decided they didn't want to stay where all the memories of Mom torment them every day, so they bought a new place. We recently went out to help pack. It's so hard to see Mom's life slowly being dismantled, piece by piece. Or to talk about what mementos I want. Because my mom is gone.

This is one of the loneliest, most isolating experiences I think I've ever had. 

I don't write this so people will feel sorry for me or so something. It's not about that. It's about how the littlest things cause the deepest grief. I was expecting big things like my birthday and the holidays to be hard. I've walked this road before, when my sister died, when babies died, when I lost a beloved friend and mentor... but every other experience was different. Nothing has struck to the core of my being like losing my mom. 

I don't have any great solutions to this heartache. I don't have any great words of wisdom or insight. All I know is I miss my mom. And I feel alone. In a houseful of people, surrounded by beloved friends with a strong support system, I still feel alone. It's all the little things... the little reminders of what should be. What will never be again. All those little things that make grief harder and life more isolating... It's lonely. Very, very lonely. 

The strange thing is, I actually think this is good. How much worse would things be if I didn't miss my mom at all? How heartbreaking would it be to have no relationship with the woman who nurtured me as an infant, left her career to raise me, and helped make me into the woman and mother I am today? Yes, grief is hard. I feel more alone then I've ever felt. My heart aches more deeply than words can describe, and not necessarily because my mom and I were super close. We had brokenness in our relationship. But I'd much rather ache over the loss of my mother, however imperfect our relationship, than not ache at all.