Eight Years Later
My husband and I purchased our first home this year. If you are currently house hunting, especially as a first time buyer, you know that this market is not ideal. When we started house hunting in January, I did not think we would find our home quickly, let alone in the neighborhood we wanted to be in. When we did, it was a dream come true. Except that my mom couldn’t be there to celebrate with us. And that sucked.
I always imagined a life where I could celebrate my wins with my mom. I thought she would be at my wedding. I thought she would be at the showings of each house we looked at. I thought she would become a grandmother when we have kids. So, when I attended open houses, I was both optimistic and pessimistic. And when we found the house, I was faced with the reality that I wouldn’t be able to share it with her. Ever.
This is my eighth Mother’s Day without my mom. I am used to everyday life without her at this point. I have my people who I can talk to about my daily wins and losses. I also have an amazing step-mom and mother-in-law who are very much mothers to me. So, I am not motherless. But, I am Connie-less. I am My Motherless.
I always envisioned a life where I would have her here to celebrate my wins and losses. I also thought she would be available to call when I had moments of anxiety or stress, which come often with me. But, she isn’t here with me. This year, I have had to come to terms with that more than before with the new house and the new marriage.
I have been dreading writing this because I didn’t want to feel my grief in full force. Dread and grief often go hand in hand and I am no exception. I do not want to feel my grief in full force every Mother’s Day. I can only assume that most people who grieve their mothers feel the same.
Today, on Mother’s Day, I feel my grief a little more up front than I normally would and I know I am not alone in that. I also know that I do have mothers in my life who are worth celebrating, and my grief does not have to be minimized because of it.
Today, I both celebrate and grieve Connie. I wish that she were here to meet my husband. I wish that she were here to see me in my new home. I wish she were here to meet my future children. But, I can also celebrate the mothers that I have with me. And together that is both bitter and sweet.
So, Happy Mother’s Day. Happy Eight Years Later.
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