I remember it like it was yesterday. I was waiting for her. Longing for her actually. I hadn't seen her in two months, and it was finally time. I looked out among the masses at Denver International Airport, and finally spotted her. Her beautiful, long, curled brown hair. Her dark skinny jeans. Her mustard yellow cardigan. I ran to meet her, but something was different. My heart was racing with joy and excitement and then suddenly turned to anxiety and fear. She looked off. She was in pain. She was so thin. We both decided it was just the toll of travel. It was Thanksgiving, and at the time I had no idea it would be the last "normal" holiday we would ever share together. The weekend was sort of a blur. My mom was always a little on the obnoxious side of picture taking, and she only took a handful of photos. She ate like a bird, finishing none of her meals. She slept in, which was unheard of. One of the greatest attributes about my mother was her laughter. The ease with which she laughed, and the sound itself. It was contagious. It was joyful. We didn't laugh like we used to that weekend. I should have known. I should have known that her body was riddled with disease.
It's been exactly three years since she passed. To be honest, I have no idea how I feel about the fact that she's gone. How can one fully grasp never ever seeing a person again. No matter how bad you want it... never. I don't understand it. I feel as though, three years and three kids later, I am more complicated inside than ever before. That cancer came in like a thief in the night, and stole my mama.
My sister posted a song to my Facebook the other night, and I listened to it over and over and over. So much so, that I decided to sing it with my husband. It may very well be about a couple in love, but I felt so connected to my mom through the words. And in turn, so connected to my own little family. You see, she impacted every aspect of my life. Every part of who I am has something to do with her. And just because she died none of that has changed. I would say there's a deeper sense of her now, actually. In the song, there's a line that goes, "You've got my love to lean on darling. All the days! Forever! Come with me! You've got my love to lean on darling. All the days!". I've been walking through a degree of depression for three years. Don't worry, it's the kind no one knows about, unless you tell them. :) For whatever reason, this little song has become somewhat of an anthem to me, and has helped pull me out of the dark. I sing it to my daughter, and well up with tears. I look at my boys and I know I will never feel anything but unconditional love for them. Unless of course, they're fighting with each other. Kidding! But the truth of the matter is, my mom was always there for me to lean on. And in strange ways, she still is. I lean on so many things I learned from her. And things I learned not to do. And though she is gone, I know her love was forever. I feel it in my heart. And I feel the same way about the children that my husband and I have created. Through thick and thin, I am gonna be there.
It takes a ton of work to actually let myself feel the pain of her loss in my life. It is so intense that I usually don't go there. I can't help it come March 1st though. I remember taking care of her. Drying her off after the shower, dressing her, shaving her head when she lost her hair, getting her medicine, rubbing her body, tucking her into five thousand pillows. It was awful. It was the saddest time of my life. I guess when I see it in front of me like this, I am acutely aware of the depression aspect I've been experiencing :).
No matter the hardship of her illness, I wouldn't ever change that I was there. That I could be there. Even on the days I wanted to run away, I'm glad that by the grace of God, I didn't.
My mom and I battled each other on many occasion, but there's one thing I learned from her that was big and loud and clear, and that was all about love. She may have gone about things in ways that made no sense to me, but there has never been someone who fought for me harder. Having my own children after she passed, I now understand that feeling. That fierce intensity in your heart that you would do anything for your kids. And even though I feel I screw up on a regular basis as a mother, nothing will ever compromise my love for my three babies.
So this year, I am going to let the words of this song fill my mind. The anger and the unanswered questions probably won't go away, but I don't want to dwell on them anymore. My mom wouldn't want it that way. She's probably looking at me like, "Would you just enjoy yourself a little bit more? What the hell. Dance already!". If I have learned anything at all from what my family and I went through during her sickness, it's that life is too damn short. That we are truly blessed every morning we wake up. That people are too important to shut out of your life. That women are incredible friends. That we need each other. And I have gotten really great at forgetting all of those things. I want to fight like my mom taught me to fight. Fight for truth and integrity. Fight for myself. To not give up because she's gone. She left way more of a legacy than that, and I owe it her and my babies and my husband to not just wither away in a land of sorrow.
The last night I spent with my mom, she was in a coma. I realize that doesn't sound that wonderful, but it was. My siblings and I, along with my husband and grandma were all by her side. I was fourteen weeks pregnant, so even Hollis and Iver were there too :). We talked to her for hours, and to each other. We cried our eyes out. We got in trouble for laughing too loudly at the hospice house, which I know she eloved. And then all of us piled in that room and slept around her. Grams was in the chair, and we were on the floor like sardines. Needless to say, the ground was uncomfortable and hard and it was squished, but I would do anything to relive that night. There was something so powerful and sweet about us all longing to be together and longing to be with her. Especially for that one last time.
The last night I spent with my mom, she was in a coma. I realize that doesn't sound that wonderful, but it was. My siblings and I, along with my husband and grandma were all by her side. I was fourteen weeks pregnant, so even Hollis and Iver were there too :). We talked to her for hours, and to each other. We cried our eyes out. We got in trouble for laughing too loudly at the hospice house, which I know she eloved. And then all of us piled in that room and slept around her. Grams was in the chair, and we were on the floor like sardines. Needless to say, the ground was uncomfortable and hard and it was squished, but I would do anything to relive that night. There was something so powerful and sweet about us all longing to be together and longing to be with her. Especially for that one last time.
I will never understand why she had to go so soon. I will never understand why some people get healed of sickness and some don't. I don't get why she couldn't have been one that made it out alive. That kicked cancers ass. That got to go back to the ocean. And I will never stop asking those questions because, if you know me at all, I am also a little bit feisty like my mama :). BUT. I will be joyful again. I will laugh again. I will invest in things that matter. I will love freely.
The last part of this little ditty goes like this:
"Love is a shelter.
Love is a cause.
Love goes on forever.
Yeah, love will lead us all.
Love! It is our honor.
Love! It is our all.
Love goes on forever.
Yeah, love it is our home."
When I hear this part, I just want to dance, obviously. But more than that, this is my beautiful mom. This is her spirit. This is her mantra. This is life!
So to my incredible mama. This is for you. Thank you for teaching me love. True, rich, unconditional love. Thank you for fighting for me, and for believing in me always. Thank you for your joy and laughter. Thank you for your way with words. Thank you for always being honest. Thank you for never being ashamed of who you were, and for always being bold. You have taught me so much about being a daughter, sister, friend, woman, and most importantly now, a mother myself. I will never stop wanting to call you and tell you all the mundane details of being up to my ears in diapers and toys and spills. I will never stop telling my babies about their Gigi. They sleep with their blankets every night. Well, not Lee Lee yet, because it's not recommended :). I miss you. With every fiber of my being, I miss you. I want to laugh with you and cry with you. I want to sit and talk for days and days. I know you would think my children are just so funny. You would love them so much, Mama. Iver looks like Brett in the morning, with his squinty little eyes and puffy lips. Hollis looks so much like Caleb. Leo is pure joy. She would love dancing with you.
I am forever changed by the loss of you, but in greater ways I am forever changed by who you were and are to me. The world was a better place with you in it. I hope you like this song :).
I am forever changed by the loss of you, but in greater ways I am forever changed by who you were and are to me. The world was a better place with you in it. I hope you like this song :).
All my love and then some,
Lindsay
