“Now that’s old,” my sister Julie said as we chatted a few days ago in anticipation of our mom’s would-be birthday, September 1st.
Would Have Been.
It’s still hard to believe it’s been 10 years (on September 12th) since I lost my mom. Since five of us—Steve, Jim, Julie, Jennifer, and I—lost our mom.
Although the pain, the grief, the intense FEELING OF IT ALL has passed, I still wish she were here.
But healthy this time. VERY healthy.
Involved and engaged deeply in my life and my children’s lives. So that we could all experience her love, her quiet sweetness, her cooking, her mothering-up of all of us.
You never NOT WANT your mom (or dad) around anymore. Only at the end if they are suffering, do you relinquish the want.
Yet longing for the perfectly-healthy-happy-strong-ideal-mom-grandma-figure—yes I still want that.
When my daughter shares about social drama and woes, I want to call her.
When Luke got baptized last year and declared his strong faith at Forest Home Family Camp, I wanted to call her.
When Ryan hits any milestone, I want to call her.
When I “lose it” in mommyville and blurt out un-proud-of phrases, I want to call her.
When Chris and I experience a new, rich season in married life, I want to call her.
When I have a new CAbi Collection of clothes to show off, I want to call her and style her for Fall 2014.
When I complete a long run, and it feels so damn good, (cause I grew up as last-girl-picked–for-every-team), I want to call her.
When Kate scores soccer goal after goal and is just lit up about it, I want to call her.
When I am neck-deep in angst about having a disabled child, I want to call her.
When I am miserable sick with a migraine or cold, I want to call her and have her come baby me, and care for me.
Because all kids want to be intimately and eternally known, by their parents. We have so much to share together. At least that is how I feel.
Being loved. Unconditionally.
Being cared for.
Being advised and guided.
Being prayed for.
Being humored with such silly talk and girly stuff.
Being challenged towards being our best self.
Being consoled on our very worst, toughest days, when we fall way-way down and need a MOTHER to help to pick us back up, and open up the band-aid for us.
You are truly, never, ever, ever ready to lose a parent.