Sometimes We Just Gotta Cry

Grief

Yesterday morning was tough. After my husband left to take the kids to the gym, I found myself on the couch sobbing because of how much I missed my mom. Some days are just like that.

I don’t write about my mom a lot. I don’t know why. Maybe because I hold her memory and my grief over losing her so close. She died of pancreatic cancer over seven years ago when I was pregnant with my first child. It was devastating and heartbreaking. Words can’t express the grief I felt then and continue to feel today. Time has helped in some ways, but in others it feels like just yesterday.

Like alcoholism, I’ve found that grief has triggers. My birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks and it’s a hard time for me. My mom loved birthdays and she especially loved celebrating mine, as I was her only child. From the time I can remember, she made it the most special day out of the entire year. It was magical. Since her death, it’s not the same. It will never be the same.

Yesterday, was also my daughter’s first slumber party and I yearned to share her excitement and mine with my mom. We used to talk daily, sometimes only for brief moments, but even those were important. She was my very best friend and we were just starting to get to know each other as adults, not just mother and child.

As I sat, crying on the couch, I thought of how much I missed her smile and laughter; the weekend visits; the shopping excursions; the times, as a grown woman, I would still lay my head on her lap while she ran her fingers through my hair. The simple truth is, I just miss having my mom. I miss the joy she would’ve brought to my children’s lives; I miss sharing exciting moments with her; I miss venting to her about life; I miss being able to ask her questions about my childhood, like how old I was when I had my first slumber party. Was I nervous? Scared?

And, sometimes I do get angry with God. I want to stomp my feet and beat my fists and yell, “Why God? Why?! It’s not fair!” And, now, instead of drowning that anger and sadness with alcohol, I let myself feel it – really feel it. I cry, sometimes weeping until my eyes are red and puffy.

And, then, eventually, I feel His calmness come over me. My tears are spent, but I feel a sense of peace because I have released everything. I have released the anger, sadness and fear and, instead, look to fill that space with joy.

Yesterday, I went to our back closet and got our wedding album down. The year before she was diagnosed with cancer, my mom had helped me plan my wedding and was overjoyed when the day finally arrived. It was beautiful and her smile was infectious.

I miss her. That will never change. But, I’m so grateful for the joy and beauty I find in her memory.

Cheers, Mom! I might not be drinking the real thing anymore, but I still celebrate you every day.

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16 responses

  1. Oh, can I relate. It’s been almost 3 years since I lost my mom. I definitely have those days too and they come around the birthdays and holidays the most. I swear sometimes i feeling like a little kid stomping rounds and yelling, i want my mommy! Yep, and the tears. They are so good sometimes, they just let it all out. It was very freeing to give myself permission to cry, since I wasnt alowed to cry when i was a kid. Hang in. I am glad you have lots of good memories to hang onto, thats a gift!

    • I’m so sorry for your loss. I too feel like an angry kid sometimes, stomping my feet and yelling. I know it won’t bring her back, but it sure feels good! Thanks for your comment.

  2. Beautiful and touching tribute, Chenoa, your mom would be so proud of you. I miss my mom, my best friend, every day. I’m thankful to still have a connection with her, but what I wouldn’t give for one more hug…

  3. I am not sure what to say, as my mother is still with us, and I am just terrible at this kind of thing (maybe it’s a guy thing…ha ha). But I understand the good cry. Depending on my mood, I can tear up at the smallest thing. Good for what ails you, of course. you have made her proud, even if you don’t think you may have 🙂

    Hugs,
    Paul

  4. This is such a beautiful post! So well-written and heartfelt. I don’t have that kind of bond with my mom (or dad), but, this, this I can feel and actually understand how connected you felt to her. And, wonderful, to be able to live through that pain, and then watch it become something else once it’s passed. BRAVO!!! That is no small feat… xxx

  5. Wow- beautiful post. I’m in tears reading it. SO, so sorry for your loss. Although I can’t relate at all, I never had that mom. I don’t and never have had or will have a relationship with my mom. I CAN relate to the longing of wanting that so incredibly bad but knowing you’ll never have it. THAT I feel your pain on. And I am so very, very sorry. My heart aches for you. I can only imagine. Your mom sounds AMAZING! What a very blessed daughter you are to have had her! And I know you know that already 🙂 And she is beautiful! Wow. Like mother like daughter!

    • Thanks Desta! She was pretty amazing. She had her problems too (don’t we all!), but she lived a passionate and love-filled life. She taught me so much in her short time here. I can only wish I have that same influence on my children. Thanks again for your comments! Btw, so excited you got to meet/see/hear Glennon yesterday! Awesome!

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