Hey, you! 😊
I woke up yesterday morning at 3am, not sure really why at first. I wasn't feeling cold. I didn't want to pee. My husband wasn't snoring. I tried going back to sleep but I couldn't. And then it finally hit and I remembered. January 16.
Unless I'm mistaken, I only wrote once about my mom's passing here on the blog (click here for the post). She died in my arms and as much as I'd like to think that I've dealt with this experience, I haven't.
Everything about my mom was contradictory. She was an amazing mom, but I knew she had many secrets. I was too young then to discuss this with her. At the time, all I did was try to juggle school work, teenage drama, but mostly trying to make my parents proud because my mama was sick. She didn't need that extra stress from me.
My mom was an enigma. Such a tiny woman, but probably the strongest person I've ever known. An angelic smile, but a scary bite when provoked. She was generous with her hugs and kisses, but she didn't hesitate to pinch my groin if needed.
Someday I might write about her death and the life she lived. I can talk about it when asked to, but it's still hard to write it down.
My mom has left a lot of "traces".
For example, I don't like getting red roses. I have a strong reaction to that as my husband has seen several times. I don't like seeing rocking chairs. A few months ago, I went to my friend's place because she was going through some health issues. And the first thing I saw when I entered her living was a rocking chair and she sat down on it. My heart ached and for a second, I couldn't catch my breath so I excused myself to get something in my coat or bag. I know that I will never have a rocking chair in my house. Red roses were my mom's favorite flowers and growing up, in our living room, my mom would spend hours and hours and hours recovering from her treatments in her rocking chair. I would get home from school and as soon as I entered the front door, there she was in the rocking chair.
More on contradictions ...
In 2002, January 16 was the worst day of my life. But six years later, in 2008, it became one of the best days of my life. There I was at the hospital being told I was pregnant with my first and only child. My miracle baby. What a surprise that was and a gift from heaven.
And each year, in one form or another, I have always received a "gift" on this day. I'd like to believe that it is my mother. It's been 22 years and I don't always think of her because life goes on, but I know she hasn't forgotten me. A mother's love has no limit and no boundary and she has proven it to me year after year.
PS. I did briefly write about this in another post. Here it is (click here).
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