There is no consolation for missing someone who can't come back, but there are things you can do to feel closer to your person, and I am thankful to be able to continue something that we both loved together.
As a little girl I loved doing things for my mother. Whether I gave her a drawing, a homemade gift, or a surprise breakfast, she would tell me I was so sweet and thoughtful and clever and artistic and creative and smart and wonderful in every way. And, being the trusting little child that I was, I believed it. (This was long before “self-esteem” was the buzz-word that it is today.)
I know it seems that this pandemic will never end, particularly as it follows us into a new year. But please know that you are not alone in your struggle, and this will pass. You will see that there are so many reasons to live.
But that’s grief, isn’t it? It comes when you least expect it. When you find a video you sent to your mum, of you in a pyjama set she bought you, tucked in a bed she kissed you goodnight in, cuddling the cat you both loved so much together.
There’s a small scar above my left eye, a keepsake from the time my sister and I tried to dig our way to China. I don’t remember the exact thought process that led to this bold venture, but since I was 5 and she was 13, I’m sure our reasoning was perfectly sound. I’m also sure that living in southeastern Idaho played a role in the decision because 1) We had nothing else going on, and 2) Local authorities hadn’t yet enacted any laws against minors procuring gardening shovels, ladders, and gas lanterns, and 3) There were plenty of other kids around who were eager to help (probably because we promised them fields of free fortune cookies upon job completion).
All my love and support, Katie
Losing our mum aged me in so many ways, which I have mentioned a lot in blog posts before. Mum would always call me a "party girl" which used to make me cringe, but I quite liked the colourful description. I liked that people thought I was colourful and energetic.
Merry Christmas and Happy New year, Grievers, and as difficult as it may be, try to begin each day with a smile. It really does help. 🙂 Peace and blessings!
I would like my next project to be lavender with bees buzzing around it. I will look at it and remember my mum cross-stitching her hair rocking chair by the fire, and how she would look over her glasses at me. I will look at it and remember how she bought a magnifying lamp for her cross-stitch and how Katie and I would laugh at her peering into it.
I think a part of me is afraid to really dive into those words that have become a regular line in my narrative. I am afraid to miss my mum, because what if I miss her wrong? What if I remember something wrong? What if I drown?