This has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write, and the struggle over the last few months has been more than real. I’ve started writing and rewriting this a dozen times. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to make sense of the things I was feeling. I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide from my emotions, from my pain…I wanted to run away. Sometimes I felt nothing at all, and that was even more troubling. So here I am, soul bared, trying to find words that do justice to one of the great loves of my life. I imagine this will be disjointed, and more than a little sad. Wish me luck.
On January 12th I lost my mother.
I have never known a love like my mother’s; it was unconditional, deeper and more expansive than the entirety of space. My mother was the embodiment of love. Love personified.
When I was at the end of my rope, questioning everything I was and everything I knew, just a few words from my mom would make the world right side up again. She was selfless and supportive, and there will never be another like her.
My mother taught me to be unapologetically myself; strong and confident. I firmly believe she encouraged that in me because she wanted me to be all of the things she imagined that she was not. And though she was never much of an adventurer, she lived a life of meaning and purpose.
Mom and I had always been close. She was my best friend, and though distance separated us, she was never far from my thoughts. We spoke almost daily since departing from California, my home state. One of my favorite activities was to call her on my long drives to, and from work. We’d talk about everything from music to literature, politics to everyday life. My mother was one of my greatest joys and I miss her voice (and her beautiful laughter) every second of every day.
Becoming a parent at nineteen brought more challenges than I care to admit…being a single parent even more so. Throughout my struggle I was so blessed to have such a phenomenally supportive woman in my corner. My mom helped me every step of the way, and allowed me to keep (most of) my sanity intact. I could not have raised my son successfully without her guidance and strength. My son was…spirited. Some would say difficult, others would also say difficult (lol), my mother always said he was perfect. She was forever saying things like “when they’re the worst is when they need love the most”…and since he was regularly the worst, I loved him with every ounce of my being, parented to the best of my ability, and hoped for the best. My son would not be the man he is today without that guidance, and without the unconditional love only a Grammy could provide. She never ceased telling me how proud she was of Tristan, or how proud she was of me for raising such a stellar human being. He would not be who he is, without her.
I would not be who I am, without her.
She was my heart. She was my strength. She was my rock.
She is now my angel.
I love you, mom. I miss you. God help me, I miss you. I promise to always make you proud, and live my life to the fullest, filling it with love, laughter, good food, great times, and a zillion perfect memories…for both of us. ❤️