I was two months shy of wrapping up my first year of being a new mom. A much-awaited blessing my son was! I mean, I could have had a full-on band escorting me around those first ten months, and it still wouldn’t have played as loud as the celebration of my heart did daily at becoming a mom.
How did a spontaneous emergency room visit for slight hip pain crash the party? I still give pause to that moment today.
I sat in silence as ALL of me cleared the room to give space to the greatest fighter I knew. I could hear her theme music trot in ever so quietly. Eye of the Tiger. You might know it, Rocky Balboa used it too.
I could hear the announcer come over the hospital’s intercom,
“Ladies and Gentleman, presenting the undisputed, undefeated heavyweight champion!”
My mom rose to her feet in the corner of the ring, took off her robe, gloves up, and stood toe to toe with the doctor’s words …”you have cancer.” T.K.O. for the both of us before the round even began. My mom never made it back to her corner to fight again. The memories I had hoped my son would create with his grandmother … the greatest fighter I had ever watched at ringside … Gone. The idea that one generation had just met the other and still had so many stories to tell and moments to capture faded quickly as I took my seat to desperately revise my life’s plan.
How do we do it, then? How do we continue to press when Webster’s dictionary can’t seem to render words that help us create the language to ask for the very thing we want most this holiday season …
MORE TIME WITH THE ONES WE LOST.
How do we grant ourselves permission to smile and soak in the warmth that the holidays bring?
My hope is that we gift ourselves space to grieve the loss of the memories that we didn’t get a chance to make. Time to remember the sound of their voices even when they began to fade from the memories that we did. And hope to one day find ways that bring us joy in creating new memories that celebrate their lives that we’ll one day share with those we love.
I want to encourage you in whatever part of the journey you’re in.
Be authentic with the emotions you feel. It’s okay to not be okay.
You don’t have to stay there.
Sometimes as moms, it’s hard for us to make time for the things that burden us because we are so busy taking care of the needs of our families. You are a source for your family and play such an intricate role in the lives of the people around you. Our strength isn’t determined by what doesn’t bother us but by our ability to be transparent and allow ourselves to be present in those moments.
Seeking counseling can be life-changing for those of us who are used to handling things on our own.
For me, it was one of the many stops in the process of allowing my heart to heal from the wound of losing my mom just as I had become one myself. I found myself constantly thinking about ways that I could share my mom with my son and eventually beautiful things emerged from pain.
Sharing memories in real-time in familiar places.
I love taking my children to places that my mom and I loved. Sometimes the canvas is so vividly painted once again. I can see her smile and hear her laugh as clear as I ever had before. I shed good tears and share my fondest memories of her with them. Sometimes it’s a park, our old neighborhood, or my mom’s favorite restaurant that quickens a memory that I’ve cherished and tucked away to keep. But sharing them extends the lifespan of each one.
Traditions and Photos. Not at triggering times.
Try more neutral times. Not just birthdays and holidays. I’ve found that looking at photos or making my favorite recipes from loved ones on a random Wednesday is less painful and softens the holiday season for me when it comes around.
And lastly, Progress will come.
Sometimes tears will be inevitable but they won’t consume you. There is a smile over the horizon that seeks to hold you. Be encouraged this holiday season. One foot in front of the next as we continue the journey of living without the ones we once held close.
