I was driving to work today when it dawned on me. Today marks 5 years since the day my mom passed away. I think of her in big moments and in tiny details, so today's anniversary is not the one that rings the loudest. 5 years have passed in the blink of an eye and in the same breathe those 5 years have moved slowly enough that details I thought were a part of me forever have faded from sight. I can't remember the time of day it was, I think morning. Dad and I were there, after a long and emotionally taxing overnight spent at her side. I can't remember what the day looked like. In my mind it was dreary, drizzling, cold and miserable...was it really or was that my mind's intepretation? I remember her hand, I remember holding it and trying to take in every small detail. I look at my hands at least every couple of days and try to conjure up hers to see if I inherited her beautiful hands. I loved her hands and her nails, they always looked like they were french manicured. I can see myself overwrought with grief. I sometimes wonder how we made it out to our cars, who drove home? I wonder if people saw us in the elevator and knew without knowing that we had just lost our mom. Did we cry? I know exactly what I wore to her funeral, down to the Franco Sarto shoes I bought that I know she would have loved but what did I say in that eulogy, I have no idea. Time heals. And while I know the pain I felt in that moment was unbearable, I can't feel it anymore. Like labor pain, you know it was there but the ache and the intensity dulls with time to the point where you wonder what did it really feel like? I feel a longing at times that is like an itch that I can't seem to reach. I still find moments where I want to reach for the phone and tell her something, share one of the tiny details of motherhood that she would want to share so intimately with me. When those moments come, they are always followed by the wave of sadness that hits me head on that she isn't here. On this day, I feel sadness, I guess being the anniversary of someone's passing is a hard thing to celebrate. On most other days, I smile and feel a warmth and remembrance as I think of the woman that I loved so very much. Her girls, my sister and I carry her proudly at all times. We smile when we think of her, we make frantic calls to her beloved Bon Apetit magazine for recipes that we think may have disappeared with her. We search madly for pictures to prove that yes, our children do bear strong resemblance to their grandmother. We laugh about her and we find ways to bring her into our lives EVERY day. We long for her company and we keep her many traditions alive for ourselves and for our wee ones. November 2nd marks the start of her season, Christmas, done only the way my could have done. My tree will go up this week and I will be reminded, as I hang my own children's ornaments and the ones that Dad has passed onto us, of mom and the excitement she created in our home.
I didn't know 5 years ago that time can heal a heart. I didn't know that I would wake one day and not feel the heavy burden on my heart. I never imagined a time where I could smile through tears. I am proud of our family, of Dad and Judy, Katie, Jerry and our newest little Ivy, of my little clan, Chad and the kids. I am proud of our resiliance, I am proud of our bond, I am impressed by our ability to grow together in tragedy. I am most proud that we keep Mom a part of our world, alive through the memories we continue to share.
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