Mom

My mom and I were never really particularly close. Truth be told I had and still have some serious mom issues. My mom was never really the mothering type and I spent a lot of time grieving for the type of mother I wanted to have. But as I got older I learned to appreciate my mom for the good things about her. My mom was funny. She had a great wit about her and she could really get down with some good ole poot humor. Shopping with her was an experience. I learned never to walk behind her in an aisle and if she left you in a hurry you better run. My mom was a good friend. When I got my heart broken for the first time, my mom offered comfort, words of advice, and a hug. That was hard for her. Affection did not come easily but she knew I needed her and she was there. Not judgemental or overly lovey just there. Today marks the anniversary of the last time I spoke to my mother. It was at Riley's birthday party last year and if I stand in the drive way and really close my eyes I can replay the scene in my head. It wasn't anything remarkable. If it weren't marked at significant for the reason it is I probably would not even remember it. But I do. I remember thinkin how tired she looked. How weird it was to see her interact with my dad. How glad I was that she was there to celebrate with Riley. How it still makes me laugh to hear Riley refer to her as "Smokin Mema." I can also remember being mad at her a few days later. The day before she died to be exact. She did not make it to Riley's dance recital and it hurt my feelings. I complained about her and talked about how undependable she could be. I remember my dad telling me that no matter what she was my mom and I needed to be nice. I shrugged him off with the typical Yeah ok Dad remark. I remember trying to call her later to ask a simple question and not getting her on the phone. Oh how many times have I wished since then that she would have answered. I'm sure the conversation would not have been anything special but still I like to think in my fairy tale world that we would have cleared all the left over hurts, unspoken I love you's, and any future advice in the time it took for me to ask her about when the farmer's market closed so I could get some Vidalia Onions. Profound I know. I remember going into the hospital room after she died and seeing her lying there. As cliche as it sounds she really did look like she was sleeping. I remember being so overcome with sadness at the realization that my mom could not fully give love to others because she did not love herself. No matter how much I wish she would have she just didn't. That was a life changing moment for me.
In the days and months since my mom died I have truly missed her. I could not have missed her more than when Mike and I had our miscarriage in December. I wanted so badly for her to make me feel better with her humor and silly remarks. It wasn't until later that I realized that my mom was providing me with great comfort in the image of her in heaven holding my daughter. I look forward to seeing them again one day. I'm sure we'll laugh, hug, and mom might even poot and blame it on the baby.
Until that time, I see little bits of her in me. Oh, sometimes it kills me to admit that. Mostly it's in the little things. Like this certain noise she would make when she was annoyed or exasperated. When I first did it, I swear it was freaky how much it sounded like her. I have her hands. I see them especially when I stroke my daughter's hair and tell her I love her. And that one day soon, we'll see Smokin Mema and baby sister in Heaven one day.