Where have I been?

I’m going to be real. I’m going to be honest and vulnerable and it’s all going to suck.

On April 13, my Mama died.

I hate writing those words. I detest them. My heart hates that I have to write them and wishes that I could write almost anything else. But, there it is.

It’s Mother’s Day Weekend and I no longer have a Mama to spoil and share it with.

So that’s where I’ve been. It’s been difficult for me to think of coming to this space and writing about anything other than my Mama. How could I write about writing or my process when every thought I’ve had for the last three weeks has been tinged with the fact that my Mama is no longer here to share these moments and milestones with me?

Grief is hard.

And I am terrible at it.

I have a very natural optimistic personality. I am very Scarlett O’Hara in my approach to life in the, “I’ll think about that tomorrow…” kind of way. But, sometimes with grief you have to let it sit on you. You have to let it hold you heart and squeeze. And you have to admit that there is no right answer and no easy fix for this problem.

Grief just hurts. And the only thing that’s going to help it is time.

I know because of my own penchant for optimism and joy that I won’t be able to leave this post up on it’s own too long. I hate to leave anything too sad up for too long. But, if I didn’t write this, if I didn’t share what is actually going on in my life, it wouldn’t be fair. Not to you. Not to me. And not to my Mama.

I want to give all of us a space to share memories of our Mama’s whether they’re still here to celebrate the day or not.

My Mama… my earliest memory of her is her playing hide and seek with me. I was a toddler. No bigger than my own Eleanor. And we played hide and seek. She was hiding next to this curio cabinet that was in our kitchen and she surprised me from beside it. It is one of my happiest memories. I remember the way my belly jumped in excitement when she grabbed me up and tickled me.



1 Comment

  1. Beautiful. My earliest memory of my mom is making homemade play dough, and me eating most of it. I also have find memories of her gardening while I played in our creek and showing her the tadpoles I had rescued. There was also the endless lectures about going barefoot and intestinal worms. Hugs to you this weekend. Holidays are the worst the first year after your mama passes away, better with time it won’t hurt as much.

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