Today has just been one of those days where I am missing my Mom so much, it hurts. That physical hurt that grabs you by the heart and threatens to rip it straight from your body.
I sat at an awards ceremony with Clint and Gabriella the other night and Gabby snuggled up to me so closely. My heart just melted. All I could think of was the extremely intense way I loved this little girl. I love all of my children so much. My boys bring out a side of me that I never knew was there. But having a daughter and seeing so much of myself reflected back at me is amazing. At that moment, I wanted so badly to talk to my Mom. To ask her questions I will never be able to ask her.
“Do I feel this way because she is the baby and I want so badly to hold her tightly and keep her young and my baby?”
“Is it because she is my little girl after years of having boys?”
“Did you feel this way about me?”
“Will I ever feel like there isn’t a huge part of my soul missing because I cannot talk to you anymore? Because I really, really just want to talk to you, Mom!”
How can this be November? How can I have had 10 entire months behind me, time to get used to this, and yet still feel like I just buried her yesterday? Will it ever not rip me in two missing her?
For my birthday, Clint bought me a charm bracelet. Mom loved charm bracelets. Now both my sister and I have one. We think of them as family bracelets. We put a charm on for each member of the family that we feel will make us think of them and remind us of each person. Yesterday I bought one that is in the shape of a heart with the inscription “The heart remembers.” I had the word “Mom” engraved on the back. I don’t know if that is the best charm or not, but it is the one that I needed yesterday.
I want to stop missing her. But I don’t. I want to be able to look at her picture and not ache to see her smile at me. I just wanted to smile back at the picture and remember how infectious her smile was… and smile back, not cry.
What I really want is to just ask her that one thing…
Mom, did you feel this way about me that I do about my daughter?
Because if she did, I owe her so much more than a charm or tears or a few flowers at her grave site. I owe her everything I am and every good thing I ever do or have done as a mother.
If I could just ask her…