You said it beautifully Mol! One of my friends asked me this morning how I was dealing with this day. The truth is, it's not the day that brings me sadness, it's the events and time that she's missed that leave a hole in my heart.
I remember the details of that morning like it was yesterday. It was so ugly outside in the days leading up to her passing, but on that particular morning, the sun shone brightly as if to say it was time. I remember feeling like I was going to pass out in the elevator after getting the call to bolt it back to the hospital. I remember running down the hallway only to be greeted by my sister who told me that I was a moment to late. I remember how beautiful and peaceful she looked for the first time in months, and I remember an overwhelming sense of relief inside myself. Our unbearable pain was over, at least in watching her suffer. The real pain and the journey of healing were just about to begin.
When I used to think of mom, the first memories that would come to mind were the ones in the hospital. The amount of time we spent on the third floor of HSC waiting, watching, and sobbing was almost too much for the human soul to endure. I still have a hard time driving near the hospital as every time we entered that building we didn't know if that day was going to be our last. Over the years those particular memories have dwindled and the fabulous ones have prevailed. Mollie was right, the time has gone incredibly fast, yet painstakingly slow in the same breath. Every time I hear an Elton John song on the radio or catch a glimpse of her when I look at myself in the mirror, I wonder if it's her saying hello and reminding me that she is always here.
If you would have asked me five years ago if I thought I was going to be alright, my answer would have been no. Although a huge part of my heart is still missing, I can say with conviction that I am in fact okay. Some people close their hearts so that they avoid feeling the pain, while we instead have chosen to celebrate mom's life and think about her often. Obviously my greatest sadness is that mom never had a chance to meet my precious Ivy. It pains me to think that when she is old enough to understand, she will wonder why she never got a chance to know her Grandma Maggie. It is my responsibility and desire to make sure she knows that nobody would have loved her more.
I still feel as if some things in life are unfair and I will never understand why this happened to our particular family. As we still go through some of mom's things, you realize that those items are just that, things. The important part of my life is the memories I have and will always share with my sister and the kids. The traditions mom has passed on to us, and the importance of family in our lives will continue to live on. I think of where we were then, and where we are now and realize how incredibly hard the process has been. The trait my mom passed to her girls that I am most grateful for is her strength. I try to think of what she went through and although I can't even imagine, I know now that I can get through anything.
On this day, I remember a woman who was taken from us to soon, a woman who loved her girls more than life itself, and a woman who's beauty will never be forgotten. I sit here with a smile on my face and share just a few (I could go on and on) of my favorite memories of my mom.....
-I remember sitting in the Valley Room at the downtown Eaton's store waiting and waiting and waiting for her to finish her coffee while we made lists of what else we needed to do. (I realize now that I'm a "list" girl and that I drink coffee even slower than she did)
-She always made sure I had a blanket and a pillow whenever I was sitting or lying on the couch and us being warm enough was always her first concern. (That explains my obsession to make sure Ivy is always cozy)
-I remember napping with her in her bed every day before Kindergarten. (She took the year off from teaching to spend with me)
-I remember getting love notes in my lunch kit as a girl, and still receiving those notes in the mail as a woman after I moved to Calgary. (I am not lying when I say they came weekly even though I talked to her daily)
-I remember that she never got angry with me or judged me for any decision I made. She reminded me daily that what she loved most about me was the fact that I marched to the beat of my own drum. (My dad not so much!)
-I remember her telling me everyday of my life how much I meant to her and that is the memory I love most!!