Feeling heavy with grief for my mom this week. Anything that happens- whether good or bad, something to celebrate or something to struggle with - is punctuated by her death.
"Audrey smiled at me today!". And my mom is dead.
"I walked 45 minutes to the park with the girls, and Juliet learned to go down the slide by herself". And my mom will never see her go down a slide.
"There are gourmet food trucks in the parking lot of Troy high school tonight." My mom would have gotten a kick out of that. She probably would have found it silly. But I will never eat a meal with her again.
"I'm tired, and want to curl up and take a nap but the babies are up and need mama". My mom was a napper. She slept on the couch in the living room. I will never walk in the front door to see her sleeping there again. She took her last breath in a chair in that same room. We were all surrounding her, crowding up that room with our sorrow; I was at her feet. The chair just sits there now, punctuated by her death.
I miss you, mom.