Missing mom

I miss my mom.

I took it for granted that I’d always be able to call her later, that she’d always be there when I needed her to be. Her physical body is gone but she’s still with me. She’s in the butterflies that cross my path, she’s in the leaves turning color and in the wind that blows the top branches of the trees.

There’s so much beauty in the world, but it now seems everything that is beautiful is tinged with sadness. Maybe it’s just the fresh grief that surges up each day when I think of her smiling face.

When I wake up in the morning, I remember all over again that I will no longer hear her voice on the other end of the line. She won’t be able to see her only grandchild grow into a man. I won’t see her bubbly handwriting wishing me a happy birthday in the cards she always sent.

She gave me the greatest gift of all, life, and I am forever grateful for her sacrifices. I am thankful for the lessons she taught me and I am so damn happy for her, for overcoming the obstacles in her life. Sure, she made mistakes. We all do, but I was able to learn from the mistakes she made and become the daughter she could be proud of.

I wish I had called her the night she died. We had been playing phone tag for a couple days and I thought, I’ll just call her in the morning on my way to work. I wish I had that one last time to tell her that I loved her and that I did want her to come down for Thanksgiving, even though we don’t have the room and that we’d find a way to make it work. I wish I had called, but I didn’t. I hope she didn’t think I didn’t want her to come. I wanted her to have the drumstick; I wanted to make those celery sticks with cream cheese that she liked.

I know she is happy and warm, comforted and care-free up there in heaven. There’s no pain or worry, no fear or uncertainty.

Thank you for everything Mom.  I love you.