My Kids; My Healers

Yesterday was my mom's birthday; a sad day for me. Actually, I always find the days leading up to it the worst. I watched my brother's wedding video from 1994. Way before the cancer, the chemo. and the pain. It was so nice to see my mom dancing, hear her laugh and remember when life was good. Remember my mom the way she would probably like to be remembered. When the end is so horrible, it is hard to remember that there were good times too. But there were, and here was the proof. The video made me laugh, and it made me cry. I cried because it is proof of all that we have lost. All that I as a woman and a daughter have lost. All that my children have missed out on. The grandma they will never know.

My mom lost her own mom at the young age of 29; her mother was just 57. I was only 30 when my mom died; she was a mere 51. Too damn young to die. My mom was devastated when her mother died; I was too! Knowing my mom would be able to give me advice based on her experience, I asked her how she got through it all. She told me,"Your kids get you through." Those words of wisdom are certainly true. Even my husband agrees with that. If I hadn't have had S. when she died, I know I would have never gotten out of bed. I would live in my own private pain without respite. I mean what would there be to live for? I know I have an awesome husband, but in the midst of all that pain, it's hard to think like that. My mother and I were best friends. My husband believes that I wouldn't have this depression if she had lived, and I whole-heartedly agree.

Anyway, I felt I needed to go visit her at the cemetary. I cut a rose off of one of my bushes that I planted in her memory the summer after she died. It is yellow for the first flowers my dad ever gave her, with pink tips because she felt pink was such a feminine color. The boys and Hubby all came with me. Now S. is starting to understand things, so I felt I needed to tell him why we go there, and what to expect. Well, my husband told him that we were going there to see Grandma Debbie. Now you see where I'm going with this right? Yep. As soon as we got out of the van, S. says,"I don't see anybody." He kept looking around for Grandma Debbie, but couldn't find her and didn't understand why not. Death is such a hard concept for kids to understand!

When we walked over to her grave, I put my rose into her attached vase. Then I asked for some time alone to talk to her. I wished her a happy birthday, and told her I miss her every day. I think of her in the morning when I get up, and when I get ready to go to bed. She is frequently in my dreams too. Then the boys came back up as I had tears in my eyes covered by my sunglasses. The Tot runs up to me and says something he has never said to me,"I love mommy." He then stretches out his arms and gives me a big hug, just what I needed. I told myself maybe that was my mom's way of comforting me. She couldn't do it herself, but my son could. After that, we all prayed together, and then sang happy birthday to Grandma. I had a hard time singing; I was choking up. My boys and I should be singing this to her over a cake and candles, not over a gravestone. I guess it's not for us to decide, and I have to have faith in God that He knew what He was doing when he took her home to Him. I just miss her so much, but my children have gotten me through the worst days; they've given me hope that the next day will be better. That the world is still good, and that I do have something to offer. That I am needed, so I can't go anywhere. My husband has been my rock too. What a patient and loving man he is! So I am here to tell you all of this, because my kids need me. They've gotten me through the roughest, and I owe it to them to be the best mother that I can be. Thanks mom for your wisdom. I'm paying it forward. Your kids get you through when you think you can't go on. They get you through. They really do...