It's been almost a year since my mother's death, and I've been thinking a lot about how this one event, and this past year, have changed me. I'm not going to talk about how it comes in waves, and I'm not going to talk about how I'll never stop grieving. Those are just a given.
It's hard to think about her. I see a picture or I'm flooded with a certain memory and for a moment I can't breathe. It's just a moment, and sometimes it's followed by tears, and sometimes it's followed by nothing. I move on, pushing the feeling aside to complete whatever task I was doing.
The biggest change I've noticed in myself is a lack of motivation. My grief has manifested in an apathy that I can't seem to overcome. It wouldn't seem like it from the outside. I meet my work deadlines, I hang out and talk to my husband, I take my kids out of the house, I feed them and I bathe them and I play with them (sometimes). I get them to school where I'm room mom. I show up for field trips and make cookies and do stations at school as a volunteer. I look like I'm fine. And in a way, I really am. I'm functioning on a higher level than I feel like. But I can't bring myself to clean my house past the basics, and I can't bring myself to care about holiday traditions, and I can't seem to get excited about almost anything.
My friends would tell me I have to give myself grace. They did tell me that, actually, after I broke down about how I felt I had been a terrible friend this year. My inner homebody that's always been there completely took over this past year.
Ironically, the one person who would be able to advise me on this and who I would listen to (sorry, everyone else) is my mother. She understood my struggles in a way a mother only can. She loved her children fiercely, and she loved to hear me talk about my own. The good, the bad, and the ugly, ugly terrible two's. She would tell me my children were brilliant, that I was brilliant, and I would believe it. Her voice never had even a hint of sarcasm in it. She meant it. She made us believe because she believed. What gift to have that effect on people.
I may romanticize my mother, but no more than she deserved. I know she wasn't perfect, and I think that makes me miss her more. She knew what it was like to be struggling with your feelings, and your life and your children and just to carry on. She taught me strength.
And for that reason, this year I am going to try to do better. Be better. With a healthy dose of grace. I think she'd tell me that I had this time and I need this time, but now it's time to get stronger. Read when I want to read. See my friends more. Clean my house. Potty train my toddler (uuuuuugghh).
So I leave you with these super cheesy song lyrics that seem oddly applicable this time of year.
"It's a long December, and there's reason to believe, maybe this year will be better than the last."
I love you, mom. I miss you. I'll do better for you.
