As I continue writings these blogs, I am starting to think I may need therapy. So many of my musings are dark and heavy. Unfortunately, this one follows that same vein. Last week was my mom’s birthday. She has been dead for 19 years. At one time, when people would speak to me about dead relatives with such longing in their narrative and then tell me the relative had been dead for longer than three years I honestly would think, what is wrong with them? Grow up already; surely you know people die. Took me quite a while and I feel like a bit of a dunce now, but I get it. I miss her.
Last week on her birthday, I did something I have never done before: Instead of pretending that I am perfectly ok with her not being here, I intentionally cleared my calendar so I could have some quiet time to pray, feel whatever emotions I felt when I thought of her and to spend as much time as I wanted looking at family photos.
Turns out that was just what I needed. I feel better. It was comforting to see her smiling, to recount what was going on in our lives at the time the photos were taken. We had a lot of great years. Certainly not enough but I’m most thankful for the ones I had. Through those memories I gained assurance that God gave me such an amazing mom and she is very much worth missing. Even 19 years later.