Remembering My Mother
A Loving and Wise Woman
They say mourning grows easier with time, but that isn’t quite right — at least it hasn’t been for me. Perhaps the loss becomes more normal, but that is not to say it ever becomes comfortable. Losing a loved one creates a palpable absence. Its magnitude does not get diminished. In fact, there are ways in which it grows bigger.
There are certain losses that make love frightening. We become aware of the great hurt our heart must face when someone we love is lost to us. The loss of the person is the first great pain. We also lose who we were able to be because of their presence, love, and support. That part of us dies with them. And then the death by a thousand cuts comes through the gradual losses to our memory.
With every year that’s passed since my mother passed away, I’ve lost a bit more of what I can recall of her. And so, as her birthday approaches (she would have been sixty-nine), I write to remember.
I remember her happiness. She exuded joy. It’s not that she was never sad, annoyed, or worried, but her dominant temperament was positive. Her happiness was contagious. She had a way of putting people at ease and making them feel better even in hard times. There was plenty to stress over when I was growing up, especially financially, but with her at the helm, I knew our ship would sail…
