Updated: Aug. 3, 2016
Originally Published: Aug. 28, 2015
Today marks the fourth anniversary of my mother’s passing. It’s hard to believe that 1,460 days have gone by since she left this world. While I’ve learned to navigate my life without her—no longer bursting into tears while making beds, strolling through the grocery store, or encountering those heart-wrenching cancer center commercials—I still find myself reaching for the phone with a chuckle when something amusing happens. Yes, that old house phone. I can’t say I have many people left to call, but I’m not quite ready to part with it just yet.
Each year, I’ve taken the time to reflect on the shifts in my life since her absence, often centering my thoughts around my children—their growth, their teenage antics, and their role as unintentional anchors in my often tumultuous middle age. I sometimes wonder how they’d react if they realized the true strength of their powers to keep me grounded.
On this anniversary, however, what weighs heavily on my mind is the deep transformation of my emotional landscape. My feelings—and what impacts me—have shifted significantly over these years.
You know what frustrates me most now? When friends roll their eyes at their mothers’ quirks or forgetfulness. It’s infuriating to hear them complain about brief visits or feel burdened by simple obligations like dinner or doctor’s appointments. They don’t comprehend the value of those moments. They can’t possibly grasp what others would give for just one more day.
And you know what brings me joy? The realization that my mother’s life was cut short unexpectedly. It’s a somewhat ironic reflection that I’ve come to terms with. She was just 69 when she passed, her illness taking a swift toll in a mere six months. Before her diagnosis, she was vibrant, stylish, and had a magnetic personality that drew people in. Even in her illness, she remained fiercely fabulous, sending me on shopping missions for shoes and bags she never had the chance to wear.
I find solace in the fact that I will always remember her as that spirited woman—never frail, never diminished by age. I won’t have to grapple with the heartache of seeing her lose her memory or independence. Instead, she will forever be my glamorous, fun-loving mother, and that thought brings me peace and happiness.
What do I prioritize now? My family, of course. They are my everything. Beyond that, however, I’ve learned to let go of the trivialities. Grudges, weight gain, and the relentless news cycle? I’ve cast them aside. I’ve made a conscious choice to surround myself with drama-free friends and reflect on what truly matters. What’s the worst that can happen? It’s not the end of the world if a child doesn’t go to college, or if someone loses their job, or if the bills are piling up. In the grand scheme of things, these issues seem insignificant.
I find myself focusing on the good—the milestones and memories. I wish she could witness how her grandchildren are blossoming. I wish she could see my latest home décor project, or even the length of my hair. I miss her deeply. And when my youngest innocently declares, “This song reminds me of Nanny!” it strikes at the core of my being.
For more insights into navigating loss and finding joy, you can check out this thoughtful piece on self-reflection. And if you’re interested in family planning, Make a Mom offers reliable at-home insemination kits. Additionally, the Genetics and IVF Institute is an excellent resource for anyone considering pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, while the pain of losing my mother still lingers, I’ve discovered new perspectives on life, love, and the things that truly matter. My focus is now on cherishing the memories and embracing the joys of family.
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