Almost There

We are almost at the point I never thought we would make it to. The one year mark. One year. How is that possible? One day I think “Where did the year go?” and the next day it feels like “It’s ONLY been a year?” I can’t believe it’s almost been a year since I held her hand, put my cheek up next to hers (she had THE softest face of anyone I’ve ever known), snuggled up in bed next to her, breathed in her scent. Smells are funny things. There are things that I can smell that just bring me comfort. My Nina’s house, my Mimi’s house, my Mama’s house. Most people wouldn’t notice those scents, but I do. As soon as I walk into one of those 3 places, I take a deep breath and suddenly that familiar scent brings a peace over me. I have spent many hours standing in my Mama’s closet breathing in the smell that comforted me for 35 years. I know that one day, all too soon, that scent is going to fade. I actually stood in her closet one day crying because the smell wasn’t as noticeable as it used to be, and the reality that one day it would be completely gone hit me like a ton of bricks. But there are other scents that take me back and bring me that comfort feeling. A roast cooking in the oven (even though I don’t like roast), a perm being given (ha! If only I was kidding..), Tresemme hair spray, her cologne. She wasn’t a one cologne type person. Oh no, not my Mama! One was never enough of anything for her! But any one of the ones she wore consistently stir up that familiar feeling in me.
One year ago, I wondered how on earth I would ever survive an entire year without my Mama. Each day was a struggle thinking about all of the “firsts” that would be coming up. I knew that we WOULD make it, I just didn’t see how. I missed her so much. Many people told me that it would get easier with time. I didn’t understand that statement. I couldn’t comprehend the hurt that I felt in my heart and in the pit of my stomach ever getting better, unless there was some way to bring my Mama back. And a part of me didn’t want it to hurt less. In my mind, if it hurt less then I didn’t miss her anymore. And how could I possibly fathom not missing her?
I wrote about the FOG back in April on my blog. And as I go back and re-read that post, I realize just how far I (we) have come in a year. At the two month point, I still couldn’t think straight. I felt lost on a daily basis. For the first 6 or so months, the 18th of each month almost did me in. I didn’t plan for it to be hard. In fact, I had always heard people talk about a specific day of each month and how that day was so hard… and I always thought that was just strange. Until it happened to me. It would start that morning with flashbacks to the 18th of February. And every time I would look at the clock and see what time it was, I would think about what was going on at that time. I tried to not think about it- but that was easier said than done. Without being able to stop it, I would relive the events of that day. I think part of me may have been searching for answers. How did I not realize sooner that the end was SO near? I made a CaringBridge post the night before saying that our time was short. I had absolutely no idea how short. I still felt like we had a week or so. Even that morning, I didn’t realize that we were looking at HOURS instead of days. If I had known, I would have called my Daddy earlier. And he might have made it home in time. It took me several months to let go of that burden and realize that there was a reason. I don’t know what that reason was. I may never know this side of Heaven. But God’s plan is greater than ours, even when we don’t understand. I seriously don’t know how anyone copes with grief if they don’t have Faith.
As the months went on, we faced more “firsts” without Mom. Each one of them was hard, but I began to notice a change in myself. Yes, it still hurt. I was still sad. I still missed her. And some days I was overcome with a longing for the way life used to be- with her in it. But I was able to find a little bit of joy again. At first, I felt guilty when I found joy. I felt guilty for feeling happy. I don’t know why, but I did. Then one day I realized that she would WANT us to be happy! She would want all of us to be happy. It was OK to let life go on. She would want us to laugh and enjoy life. My Mama enjoyed life every chance she got. I had to really stop and make myself think about what Mom would want. She wouldn’t want us to stop living. And slowly but surely, the guilt I felt for finding joy again has faded. Now- does that mean that I don’t miss her? Absolutely not! That couldn’t be farther from the truth. In fact, it seems like I miss her more now than I did in the beginning. But I had to do some serious searching within myself to finally realize that I can’t live the rest of my life longing for what I wish still was. I have to live my life enjoying what IS. And the harsh reality is that life IS going on. It’s not going on without my Mama, just without her physical body. She will always be a part of who I am, of who we all are as a family. She will always be my Mama, Nina’s oldest daughter, Kim’s sister, Dad’s Turtle, Josh’s “Mother In Law”, Brenna and Macie’s MeMawMom, and more. That will never change. Our love for her will never fade. And the piece of our hearts that she held still- and always will- belong to HER!
One day, I suddenly realized- things were different. I was having more good days than bad. Had it become easier? I don’t really think EASY is the word for it. I’m not any more happy about her being gone than I was the day she took her last breath on this earth. But it has become different. I have become better at facing each day without her. I am not ever going to get “over it”, but I am starting to…get used to it. I’m not even sure if that makes sense. I’m starting to learn how to live the new normal. It’s different. But different doesn’t always have to be bad. Nothing, and I do mean NOTHING, will ever change or reduce how much I love my Mama. This is the hand we were dealt. Do we like it? Of course not! Do we wish it was all back to the way it was? Absolutely. Does that change what IS? No.
I’m not sure if any of what I have written even makes sense. But my main point, amid all of my rambling, is that here we are…. Just days shy of one year later. And we are making it. Not every day is pretty. Some are just plain ugly. Grief creeps in when we least expect it. But those days are coming fewer and farther between. I have done things in the last year that I never thought I would be able to do. I have grown in ways I never knew I could. I still miss my beautiful Mama every single day. But I have learned to lean on the wonderful memories that she left me with. Those memories get me through the roughest of days. They make me smile and remember just how lucky I am to have had such an amazing Mama. She was and forever will be my hero. My advice to anyone traveling this road behind me? Only take one day at a time. Today is all you can do. Yesterday is done, and worrying about tomorrow only ruins today. You can’t spend the rest of your life wishing for what used to be. You won’t be able to accept it right away, but with time, you will. And finally- nothing is ever going to be the same again. Everything is going to be different. Slowly, you will learn how to live and navigate through the “new normal”. It’s a slow process. One year later, life doesn’t look anything like what I pictured it would a year ago. Yet, in many ways, it is better than I thought it could ever be again. I have learned that finding joy and happiness in life doesn’t mean figuring out how to move on without Mom. It means figuring out new ways to include her memory in everything that we do. Some days, just when I start to feel the “sad” creeping back in, a memory will put a smile on my face. It could be putting on one of her shirts that I remember her wearing, or telling the girls a story about their MeMawMom that makes them laugh, or Macie crawling up in my lap and saying “Will you do the MeMawMom thing?” (which means rubbing her eyebrow, forehead, and cheek very softly with my nails), or hearing a song come on the radio that Mom and I used to sing to in the car when I was growing up (and still remembering the “dance moves” she used to do, or the different parts each of us would sing to a duet). Those may seem like little things. But those little things bring big comfort. Those little things remind me how lucky I was to have her, to love her, and to be loved by her.
As the 18th of February approaches, there is a sense of anxiety. Mainly because it is the end of the “firsts”. A milestone I thought would never get here at times. But I also have a sense of peace. That’s something I didn’t think I would have at this point. I have watched all of my Caring Bridge posts on my TimeHop leading up to this day, and to be honest, it’s been hard. Last February was brutal. However, I am so grateful that I have these difficult posts and pictures to look back on. It reminds me how thankful I am that Mom isn’t hurting anymore. And it reminds me to focus on the good memories- the ones before cancer took over our lives. And it reminds me to remember that though her days of holding my hand here on earth are done, she will hold my heart forever.