Another Journal Jar Post

I'm on a roll, so let's keep on keepin' on. Here goes another journal jar post, this one is going to be a tough one for me, but I think if we don't push the envelope at times, we'll never truly know our limits.

Write about the loss of someone close to you...

Losing someone is such a broad statement. I've lost friends, family, relationships, and every time it's the same, and every time it's different. How do you choose just one? Which one impacted your life the most, which one happened the longest time ago, which one still hurts? Every loss- whether it's a breakup, end of a friendship, or death- molds and shapes the person you are, and the person you will become.

I think this post came at just the right time, I've reached a place in my life where I no longer grieve the loss of my mother, but I embrace it. My mom passed away when I was only 13, and though I don't have many memories of her, I have an amazing support system of family and friends that do, and through them, she will live on forever. Each year is different, every day presents its own challenges, and there are plenty of times I wish I could call her and ask her questions, hear her voice, or make her laugh. The time has come and gone for me to have children, and though she wasn't here physically, I know she watched me through every step of the way. 

When it happened, I had no idea how I was going to persevere. The mere idea of going back to school, facing my friends and neighbors with their happy families, it made me sick to my stomach. I didn't know how to react, or what to say when people tried to console me. I was angry, sad, embarrassed even. I knew life would be different, but I wasn't prepared for just how my life was going to change. My dad and I had a strong relationship, and the loss of my mother shook it to the core. There were days I hated him, I blamed him for not taking better care of my her, for not making sure this didn't happen. Other days, my world would have crumbled without his stability, his compassion, and his understanding. 

I hear myself saying things to my children I swore I would never say, I crack my knuckles exactly like my mom used to, and every once in a blue moon I catch a smell of her favorite perfume. I have more appreciation for my mom every day, I feel so naive at times, I had no idea then how under appreciated she must have felt. To gracefully run a household with a husband and children, and never have them feel for a second like they're anything but the most important person in the world, that takes class. Every time I spend the afternoon making beds or an evening cooking dinner, I think about why I do it, and why she did it for us. If my mother felt anything like I do, the rewards were worth every backache, burnt finger, and bad mood. Every dirty diaper was changed with love, and hope that one day when that child grows up, they will have their own family and feel the same love you feel. A love so strong you would do anything to protect them, you would give them the world, you would die so they don't have to.

I am a motherless mother. Though this doesn't define who I am, it plays a role in who I am today. I take a few extra seconds to hold my children each night before bed, I thank God for them every morning when I wake up. I'm proud to call them mine, and wouldn't know what to do without them. Losing my mother has taught me not to take the little things for granted, because one day when you look back, you'll realize those really were the big things.