I am learning to live without her. I am getting used to the pain of knowing she is not coming home. I even occasionally allow myself to grasp the idea of the rest of my days without her. I hate all of it.
But today is different. Today, I NEEDED her.
I need her to tell me that it will all be ok. I need to hear her say that my worries won’t change anything and to stop. I need her to reassure me that God is still in control. I need her to hold my hand while I cry for a little bit.
And today, the emptiness that goes along with knowing that none of it is possible makes the hole in my heart feel fresh and new.
She was a great mom, and I am still learning how to be a great mom. And it is hard when your teacher is no longer here. She taught me well. She loved me well. But I still need her, and it is just so hard to figure it out without her.
She was my security blanket. She was my backup plan. She was my cheerleader. She was my encourager. She was my safe place to run to when I just needed to run.
I have needed my mom today.
Today, I have found myself speechless. Worried and wondering about tomorrow. Lost and tired, and just needing to sit beside her and hear her tell me it will all be ok.
Today, I realized that I can put on my “I’m ok,” but I’m mostly going through the motions. Daily routines. And all I really want is just to sit and talk to her. To share my concerns and to soak in her wisdom. I want to be comforted the way only my mom could comfort me.
Today, I was reminded of how the world goes on. I was reminded of how you can sit in one place and fell like you are floating with everything spinning out of control around you. I was reminded of how little control I actually have over this life at all.
Today, I was shocked to see I have not come nearly as far as I thought I had. When I received news that worried me, the first person I wanted to talk to was my mom. The first person I want reassurance from was my mom.
And I know it sounds like I am having a pity party. Maybe I am. But maybe that is what mourning is about. Crawling to your bed in the deep darkness, then waking up and bouncing around like you are ok. Then you have a day when all you need is that person. And all that forward momentum you thought you had is suddenly gone. So you crawl back to bed, but this time it is not quite as deep and maybe not so dark. The next morning you are feeling ok, but your bounce is a little more cautious.
Your heart is held together with masking tape. Your insecurities and fears are scattered about like clothes in a teenagers room. And you can make it all look pretty for a little while, but sometimes that masking tape gives out, and you get scattered about again. And the one person who could help you sort through it all is the missing part.
That’s where I am today. Today, I needed my mom.