Missing Mom

I'm missing you Mom.
The way your hair always seemed perfect.
How you always had the best advice.
The thoughtfulness and kindness you instilled in your everyday life.
I'm missing you Mom.
All the late nights I spend up crying wishing I could call you.
The pain and agony I experience in every memorable moment.
Knowing that you will never be a part of it.
I'm missing you Mom.
Wishing that you could still be a part of my life.
And see all I've done getting married, graduating, and building a home.
Now you are gone and I just feel so alone.
I'm missing you Mom.
Now and forever.
Things will never be the same without you.
And when I miss you I feel so blue.

I find that major life events, whether they are mine or my families, send me spiraling into the dark feelings I try so hard to suppress in my daily life. Faking a smile has come so second nature to me that I can be smiling, but feel like I've hit rock bottom all in one sitting. The word family has really began to strike my heart. When I speak the word, hear it, think about it I'm reminded that my family is forever changed due to the tremendous losses we've experienced. What once was is no longer. The dynamics have shifted. My life has shifted. I know that as we grow older we drift a bit from family, but I never thought that I would be at a place so young were family would be gone.

I've been dreaming of my Mother nearly every night since my Septoplasty surgery. She comes to me in a variety of ways. When she visits she's alive and it's as if she actually is. My mind almost convinces me that she has not passed. The dream feels so real, like she is there. Then my mind begins to process and changes the dream. I dream of her dying. Sometime it's the same way I saw her pass and other times it happens in a different way. Either way it's like my mind is trying to remind me that she isn't here, never will be, and I will never actually see her again, only in my dreams. My overly logical brain even has to remind me she is gone and take her from me.

It's hard to tell people how I feel, because most will just relate it back to their lived experiences. However, I lost my Mom at 22. That in itself is an unique experience. There are some that lost their mothers younger than me. Others that were at my age, but the majority of people I've talked to lost their parents a lot older. When they had been married or had kids. My Mother never and will never have an opportunity to see that side of my life. In a way I want to shout at them and say "you don't know how I feel. Your experience is not mine." There are times I want to tell them they should just be grateful that they had their parent for the time they did and their parent saw things that mine will never see. The communicator in me bites my tongue. "Don't be so insensitive" I tell myself as I let the rage inside me boil. So I suppress and smile until I end up in complete darkness. An eclipse inside of my mind. A dark period that struggles to let in daylight.

I know I was lucky to have the Mother that I did. I've never met a woman so supportive, kind, caring, and selfless as my Mother. Seeing other people's experiences and realizing what I had makes me feel lucky. However, because I know how incredibly my Mother I'm constantly effected by that loss. I teach the way I do, behave the way I do, try to be thoughtful the way that I am to show the world the incredible person my Mom was. By knowing me I hope that people can see her. I know that she lives in me. I miss you Mom. I love you.