A Dedication
This post will be a short one (yeah right! When have any of my posts ever been short???), because I want to commemorate my mother, who died three years ago today. I know that people all over the world lose their loved ones every day. In this sense, my case is not unique. Instead, I want to share with you just a bit about who she was.
I feel like she was the person who everyone gravitated towards because she was hilarious (a true kid at heart), generous, and was known for her candor (which was actually a repellent for many). She had a love for life that I've rarely seen and she loved others wholeheartedly, without reservation-even when those she loved hurt her terribly. Her ability to forgive was astounding.
My mother was meant to be a mother. She parented my sister and I in a way that I'll always be thankful for: strict, unconventional and dedicated to raising her children well (I'm not boasting that I'm fantastic, merely that the energy she put into raising my sister and I was a reflection of her desire to be a good mother and to raise good children).
She never wanted to stop learning and because of that she was also a fantastic teacher and caregiver. She raised her three younger siblings while both of her parents worked full-time. While this would likely turn anyone off of becoming a parent, it only encouraged her to have kids. For all of her strictness, she encouraged getting our hands dirty and getting into a bit of trouble (and we did). She didn't believe in perfection, but rather fostered the idea of honesty and communication. For this reason my mother, father and sister became my best friends (I know it's odd).
Every morning I would wake up, make my coffee and sit at the foot of my parent's bed (they were always awake), and we'd chat about what we'd done the night before, our plans for the day, the news, work, school, relationships/friendships, where we heading in life and where we wanted to go. This was where I got the best advice and where I opened up about things that most people would never discuss with their parents. It was where I learned. Never one to want to miss out on anything, my sister would eventually hop on the bed (that's an exaggeration. She's not a morning person, so it was more like she'd crash), and join the conversation. We'd sit for long enough for it to become a safe space.
When my mother died (on my ex-fiancé's birthday), I didn't just lose my mother; I lost my best friend. No one in the world was as close to me as she was. Even to this day, I cannot name one person who comes close to what she meant to me (what's worse is that I know my sister and father feel the same way as I do). As a child my greatest fear was that I'd lose my parents. At the age of 29, my whole world was shattered, and I contributed to the cause of that destruction. My mother suffered physical trauma that resulted in cardiac arrest; her heart stopped for ten minutes. Although medical staff resuscitated her it was discovered that she had no brain activity. As a family (of three), we were forced to make the most horrific decision a person will ever be faced with: keep her on life support, or take her off of it.
At the time, it was almost one hundred percent certain that she wouldn't physically recover. Nevertheless, I feel fully responsible for her death and the guilt never dissipates. What really bothers me is that I know life can't go back to the way it was before I lost her and life hardly seems worth living without her. No, I'm not suicidal. I just feel the loss so acutely that it consumes me. Now I'm whining-sorry.
My mother was a wonderful woman who had her faults, but she openly admitted them and tried to be a better person, make the world a better place and took care of her family giving all the love she could give; I was blessed to have that love for 29 wonderful, formative and unforgettable years! I'll always be thankful for that :)
I feel like she was the person who everyone gravitated towards because she was hilarious (a true kid at heart), generous, and was known for her candor (which was actually a repellent for many). She had a love for life that I've rarely seen and she loved others wholeheartedly, without reservation-even when those she loved hurt her terribly. Her ability to forgive was astounding.
My mother was meant to be a mother. She parented my sister and I in a way that I'll always be thankful for: strict, unconventional and dedicated to raising her children well (I'm not boasting that I'm fantastic, merely that the energy she put into raising my sister and I was a reflection of her desire to be a good mother and to raise good children).
She never wanted to stop learning and because of that she was also a fantastic teacher and caregiver. She raised her three younger siblings while both of her parents worked full-time. While this would likely turn anyone off of becoming a parent, it only encouraged her to have kids. For all of her strictness, she encouraged getting our hands dirty and getting into a bit of trouble (and we did). She didn't believe in perfection, but rather fostered the idea of honesty and communication. For this reason my mother, father and sister became my best friends (I know it's odd).
Every morning I would wake up, make my coffee and sit at the foot of my parent's bed (they were always awake), and we'd chat about what we'd done the night before, our plans for the day, the news, work, school, relationships/friendships, where we heading in life and where we wanted to go. This was where I got the best advice and where I opened up about things that most people would never discuss with their parents. It was where I learned. Never one to want to miss out on anything, my sister would eventually hop on the bed (that's an exaggeration. She's not a morning person, so it was more like she'd crash), and join the conversation. We'd sit for long enough for it to become a safe space.
When my mother died (on my ex-fiancé's birthday), I didn't just lose my mother; I lost my best friend. No one in the world was as close to me as she was. Even to this day, I cannot name one person who comes close to what she meant to me (what's worse is that I know my sister and father feel the same way as I do). As a child my greatest fear was that I'd lose my parents. At the age of 29, my whole world was shattered, and I contributed to the cause of that destruction. My mother suffered physical trauma that resulted in cardiac arrest; her heart stopped for ten minutes. Although medical staff resuscitated her it was discovered that she had no brain activity. As a family (of three), we were forced to make the most horrific decision a person will ever be faced with: keep her on life support, or take her off of it.
At the time, it was almost one hundred percent certain that she wouldn't physically recover. Nevertheless, I feel fully responsible for her death and the guilt never dissipates. What really bothers me is that I know life can't go back to the way it was before I lost her and life hardly seems worth living without her. No, I'm not suicidal. I just feel the loss so acutely that it consumes me. Now I'm whining-sorry.
My mother was a wonderful woman who had her faults, but she openly admitted them and tried to be a better person, make the world a better place and took care of her family giving all the love she could give; I was blessed to have that love for 29 wonderful, formative and unforgettable years! I'll always be thankful for that :)
My high school graduation
At a family friends' wedding
...And then there were three.
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