I am writing this at 6:00 am on a Sunday morning. The baby’s swing is humming in the background and the cat is trolling for food. She’s going to have to wait.
Because I’m grieving again.
Last night, I went to bed not knowing (but hoping) the Red Sox were going to the World Series. I wanted to stay up but I didn’t think I could convince Lola to sleep through the night at 8 weeks. And I have needs too.
So off to bed I went, around 9:30.
At 11:30 or so, Mike cheered so loudly he woke me up. I thought the Sox had won it, but (if I remember right) someone hit grand slam.
This morning’s headline is going to be that the Red Sox are headed to the World Series. They’re playing the Cardinals. The last time they played each other in the World Series was 2004. Nine years ago.
And my mama was still here. Literally. Here.
She and my dad flew to New England for my birthday. Mike and I spent their vacation showing them all of the places we loved. We took a road trip into Boston on game day to be part of the excitement at Fenway Park.
The mood there was electric. It didn’t matter that we didn’t have tickets. We had each other and we were part of the action. My classic country boy dad was over the moon to be near Fenway Park, where his team was playing my team. He was overwhelmed.
“This is so neat. Oh My God. This is AWESOME.” he kept saying over and over.
My mom was busy falling in love with every Boston Cop and Statie (that’s New England speak for State Police Man) she saw.
“Nan, LOOK at him. He’s beautiful. And his rear end. I’m going to go ask for a picture with him. Come with me!”
I was kind of embarrassed but played along. If you knew my mother, then you knew her love for men in uniform. Or really just for cute men in general.
We stopped for street sausages because you can’t go to Fenway Park without eating at least one before we headed on our way.
I wish I could remember more about that day.
I want you to know grief comes in waves. It has been six years since my mom passed away and I write this this morning not for your sympathy but because I woke up this morning and need to embrace the memory. I’ve found the best way (for me) to handle the grief has been to fully embrace it when it comes up- to be honest with my feelings, to let the sadness sweep me under like a wave, and then to move on with my day when I feel better.
If you are grieving the loss of a loved one, especially a parent, I’m so sorry for your loss. It never gets better. It just gets different as time goes on.
It is okay to be sad, angry, and hate the world sometimes.
It is okay to replay the last voicemail you got from her, just to hear her voice again.
It is okay to hold tightly to a box of random things that don’t make any sense. Except that they were her random things and you can’t let them go to.
It is okay to spend hours trying to recreate her signature dish because you want to taste a memory. For the record, it will probably be close but not 100% exact because the missing ingredient is her.
It is okay to be pissed off when you see someone else not treating their parent with respect. On one or more occasions I’ve wanted to yell at a complete stranger.
“You should be so lucky that you even have a mom you can yell at!”
Grief comes in waves.
Have you lost someone close? I’d love to hear about your waves of grief. Did one hit you unexpectedly too?
This post is part of a 31 day series about Big Girl Panties. Click here to read the rest of the series.