Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Motherless Children

I hope you find a way to get through holidays. Anniversaries of life and death. Significant moments.


* Mother's day is a day of thankfulness otherwise I sufficate under the blankets of self-pity and loss. Write to the women who have shared their nurturing heart with you. Be a "mom" to someone else who needs to be held for a moment, someone who needs an unconditional hug. By finding the "mothers" that surround you and looking into your life for those you "mother" you'll find a vast array of women (even if coworkers!) who deserve to be celebrated.

* Christmas, a day to share life with the living. Embrace family and friends that laugh and love. Intentionally surround yourself with them. Make new traditions. Create new memories. Drink a little.

*I have had only two moments since her death that caught me off guard. Flooded with tears.
The first was 6 years after she passed. I realized mid-day that it was the anniversary of her death AND it was the same day of the week as the day she died. For some reason that significance caught me by surprise.

The second was 7 years after she passed. I had a question about office managing and reached for the phone. As if it were completely natural to just give her a call. That was the strangest feeling I'd ever had.

I have been silently counting the years. Looking at the horizon knowing the day would come.

The year I turned 34. I counted. "This is the year she discovered breast cancer."

Today. I counted. "This is the equinox." 

18 years with her, 18 years without. Up until now the days with her outnumbered the days without. From here on that changes. And now starts a new counting.

When I turn 43. "This is the year she died."
Every year after. "These are the years she didn't get to live."

You know I don't dwell on her much. But this counting - it's always on my mind. A way to remember. A way to acknowledge that she once lived.

When she died, I didn't have an email address. "Bottled water" was a laughable idea. These scrubbies weren't invented yet.


Stumbling upon some archives comforts me. See. She did live. Proof. (Thank you Altamont Enterprise!)

Whatever you do to get through your days, you're not alone. Count. Remember. Celebrate. Be thankful. Or flat-out cry. I'm with ya.

8 comments:

Lore Ferguson said...

Wow. I'm totally crying now. Love this. Thank you for sharing it.

SmailFamily said...

...thanks Jacqui, for this post, and for the picture. I hope you don't mind that I copied it. I don't have any of her. Reminds me of so many things...

Andrea said...

beautiful jacqs. love you. your mom made a big impact on my life too. we all have her in our memories...that's pretty good proof too.

Becky said...

Beautiful.

Paige said...

I just learned your childhood phone number. :) That makes me smile through the tears. <3

Kerstin said...

This post touched me so much. I am in denial that my own mother will be gone someday. Thank you for so elegantly giving me a dose of reality.

Adrienne said...

I was just thinking about her this past week, knowing the anniversary of her death was approaching... I loved her! Not perfect, but a good woman! And I always remember her on the anniversary of her birth! You are a good woman jacqui!

Jacqs said...

Thank you all for sharing today with me. For opening your hearts to my heart. Thank you.