Today is my sweet momma’s birthday. I always feel odd saying
that. Do you celebrate birthdays when someone is gone? Do you celebrate
anything when someone is gone? I haven’t written in a while, but, as always, I have
been thinking. I was telling Anthony the other day how the middle of June used
to be so packed full of celebrating in our family. My parents anniversary,
Father’s Day, and momma’s birthday typically all fell within a few days of each
other. Now that they are gone, how are we supposed to take these days? Should
we bake a cake like we would have? We could. Should we spend the day crying? If
we want. Should we smile a little and remember how special those days were? Of
course. Here’s the thing. There is no guide book on how to live your life after
loss. There isn’t a governing body who decides when it’s time to stop crying
and start living. In the years (wow, years) since we lost mom, I have
encountered friends and family members who have also lost someone they love and
have had many different reactions. And that’s all okay. The way that I try and
live my life and let people know (only if they ask) is that you are entitled to
feel however you want to feel whenever you want to feel it.
Often times I hesitate to post again because I feel like I say
the same thing over and over. Choose to be happy. Remember the past. Do this. Do
that. And then I get mad at myself because I think, “You’ve already said that. Nobody
wants to hear a sermon from you.” But then I decide that the reason I started
writing was so that I might be a help to one single person who is struggling. One
person who might be crying herself to sleep at night with the fear of the
future. One person who might be wondering how to talk to a friend dealing with
loss. If one person reads this and is comforted, then I will keep writing. Really,
I will probably keep writing regardless. That’s another thing that I have
realized. Life does begin again after you lose someone you love, but then
again, life never stopped when you lost them. It just changed—forever. Your
world is so surreal in the days and weeks following loss that it does feel like
you are in an alternate universe. You deal with the immediate influx of cards
and casseroles, but those fade. People return to their homes and to their
lives. You are a thought to them, and perhaps a prayer at night, but and the
end of the day, you (and your brother and sisters) are left to return to a life
without that person—and figure out whatever that’s supposed to look like. What I
have learned is that every person is different. Every family is different.
In all honesty, I spent Father’s Day pulling weeds. That
sounds awful, but that’s my point. I think I have said it before but there is
no day that hurts less or feels better. I miss my parents all the time. What is
odd is that I miss different things at different times. Today, momma’s
birthday, I miss sitting on the porch after baseball and softball games and
singing happy birthday to her. But I don’t
think that that makes me any more sad. It’s just a different kind of day. And I
will smile and laugh today. I have smiled and laughed today. Every day is the same, but that doesn’t mean
that every day is sad.
I’ve tried to reconcile the idea of how I can miss my
parents every day but not be sad every day. And I really don’t have an answer. Honestly,
part of it I chalk up to grace and realize that in the years since our
incredible sadness, only the grace of God could truly heal my heart. But I’m
not healed. Not yet, at least. I still have questions and fears. And worries.
Oh man do I have worries. Somewhere along the line I hope to stop waiting for
the other shoe to drop. The scars that I bear are deep and painful. I think I’ve
talked before about how death robs you of happiness. Well, it tries. It is an
everyday battle. But if I made a list (as I am so fond of my lists) of all of
the goodness we have experienced, it is a prime example that love wins. That we
are choosing happiness. We have celebrated a wedding (woo!), 4 graduations, new
jobs, new chapters in life, and hopefully a new house soon. That’s a lot of
happy. And as I was sitting in each of those (standing for the wedding), my
mind always drifts to my parents. It’s hard to keep it anywhere else. Sitting next
to parents proudly snapping pictures and watching father’s walk daughters down
the aisle, I will always think of my parents; even though I yearn for them, I smile
at these times now. I feel happy because my parents are there. They were there
in my tears as I watched my beautiful baby sisters graduate, they were beside
me in the heart of my bold big brother as I clutched his arm and walked towards
my future husband. They are in the smile of that same husband as we tour houses
and figure out this life thing together. They aren’t here beside me, but they
are everywhere around me. I wish that I could bake my momma a cake today. I wish
I could have reminded my poppa to send her flowers on their anniversary. But most
of all, I wish to make them proud. And I know that they don’t need to be on the
other end of a phone call to be proud. So, today is a Tuesday. Today is my
momma’s birthday. I will celebrate today just as I celebrated on Sunday. Sunday
just happened to also be Father’s Day. Some days have more specific meaning but
every day since they have been gone is equally special. That seems like a
horrible sentence, but they have been special because they are precious. They
are precious because the five of us (and I hope those closest to us) have lived
each day to make them proud and to be happy. We strive to find joy in each
other’s company and excitement in each other’s futures. The world is a dark and
scary place. I know that better than most; but because of that—maybe in spite
of that, I know the good that people are capable of. I know the happiness that
is achievable and, most of all, the grace that extends over all.
