I Miss My Mom

I was born in Fukuoka, Japan to a beautiful Detroit girl who had the courage to follow her handsome Air Force husband across the sea to a strange land. Courageous because she was terrified of water and suffered from terrible seasickness. Even more courageous because her husband, my dad, while loyal and strong, was also an overgrown teen who liked to party and have fun. Yet they survived the strange land and so did I.

My mom was the best mom in the world; strong, wise, loyal and loving. Throughout my childhood and our many moves, she held us all together and made a home wherever we were. Until I met my husband, she was the love    of my life. No offense to my dad, but she was my MOM, my center, my wise council and my best friend even as I grew up and had a family of my own.

The Grief

My beautiful mother was diagnosed with breast cancer at age 47, shortly after my marriage. After a bilateral mastectomy, she spent years in radiation and chemotherapy, fighting to live for her children and grandchildren. Finally, at the age of 53, she told me she was tired of fighting—just plain exhausted. No one else in our family would talk to her about dying, but she and I had spent time together on this subject.

Sobbing on the end of a long distance line,

I told her I loved her and let her go.

She died the next morning, before I could get to her. My father was at her side and was immediately inconsolable. At the age of 30, I was a child without a mother and suddenly an adult.

There are so many reasons I miss her  and I will write about some of them another day; but today I want to write about the loss of the mother-daughter relationship. Until you get older you really don’t see your mother as a person in her own right, so you don’t bother finding out who she really is. Now I wish I had her to shop with, talk with and sit with. I see women my age out and about with their mothers and I am so jealous; this emotion gets worse the older I get. Like my grief and missing her—it never goes away.

At the fair a couple of years ago, I was sitting on a bench  waiting for my oldest daughter. I saw a woman and her daughter walk by arm in arm, laughing and chatting. My hope is for this for both of my daughters and myself. For the relationship that was cut short with my mother’s death to be replayed with longer success. After all, we have two chances at this relationship: one with our mother and one with our daughter.

The Hope

My mom has now missed 33 years of my life. She only met the oldest 3 of her 9 grandchildren—and she was the greatest grandma. My sister was only 18 when my mom died, and my mom has missed so much of her life; marriage, the birth of her son and how great my sister is as a woman. The wonderful mother/daughter relationship has not been a part of Kelly’s life as an adult, which is so sad. We can only hope that mom is truly seeing us from heaven and happy for us.

Which leads me to Heaven and dying. As a nurse, I have been with people while they die and I can tell you that they “see” their loved ones who have passed.

I know without a doubt that I will be seeing my mom again in heaven, and I look forward to it.