Lessons from Momma
There are no words for the experience of losing a parent. There is no manual, or guidebook, or coach to help you figure out how to move forward in life without the people who raise you. With the holidays in full effect now, I took some time to reflect on everything I have learned and realized after losing the most important woman in my life. The words below are some of the life lessons I have collected since I lost my Momma about a year and a half ago.
The dead parents society
There’s a club and you’re now a member — oh and by the way, you never wanted to join it. On the plus side, the other people in the club, understand you on a cellular level that cannot be articulated in words. You will listen to the others explain their heartbreak and you will think “me too” and you will be able to mean it. It’s not a nice sentiment, it’s a bond. You will think about the club members at the holidays and when you see the remembrance or birthday posts on social media of how old they would’ve been. Even if you don’t speak at all, you will send them love and strength, because you know that feeling of loss better than anyone else
Southern girl style
I’ve always liked entertaining, from the moment I had my first apartment I wanted my house to be the house everyone wanted to be at. My home now is practically a shrine to the legacy of my Momma and Mamaw. Fierce, independent, southern women who had that magic touch of hospitality that only true southern woman possess. Being in their homes made you feel like family, whether you were blood or not. Filing my dining room table with plates of food and surrounding my friends and family with love (and carbs) gives me a better high than any drug. That trait was absolutely ingrained in me by my mother, no one could host a holiday like her. The food was always delicious, the presentation was always perfect and she always made you feel like family even when you weren’t. She was the master, I am still learning from her, even after losing her.
Book nerd in training
Momma was an avid reader, she had a tiny room in her house she referred to as “the library”. It was a running joke for years in our family, as that “library” was just a back bedroom with a bunch of IKEA bookshelves that were so full the shelves were all warped in the middle. Nevertheless, I know it made her proud to say it, and she read everything. All genres and authors, and boy did she know facts about everything. Watching Jeopardy with her was brutal because she knew the answer before Alex even got the question out. I was never a reader as a child, but as an adult I cannot consume books fast enough. She always told me one day I would understand and I would become a reader too, once again Momma was right! If you want to see me light up like a Christmas tree, just ask me for a book recommendation.
Taking for granted how much I consulted with her on everything
How to deal with stress at work or how long to cook a hard boiled egg, she knew everything. Momma was my personal google. My momma was my touchstone, my confidant, my role model and my biggest cheerleader. She had a fascinating life, but it certainly wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows. She had perseverance and strength that was unparalleled. I watched her raise three kids, work full time, cook dinner every night, make magic every holiday, lose her own mother and father and the love of her life (my father) and manage to always keep her head held high. She was more than a woman, wife and mom, she was a force to be reckoned with. There are so many women I know terrified of turning into their mothers, I hope I turn out exactly like mine.
Grief comes in waves
It knocks you down in ways you won’t see coming. The smallest moments will send you over the edge and you won’t know how to climb out. The smell of her perfume, a song from your childhood, a Mother’s Day commercial, even nothing at all will have you crying your eyes out. Anytime I think I have the grief under control (pause for ridiculous statement, grief is not something you can control) I am reminded that you never get over losing your Mom. I am sad to say I have lost both parents and losing my Dad was the most brutal pain and I miss him more than words can express, but losing my Mom changed me in a different way. In death, we often turn people into icons, forgetting their faults. I haven’t forgot where my mom fell short, but I do see now how she lived in her truth and inspired the woman I am today. This quote sums it up better than I can, “There is something about losing your mother that is permanent and inexpressible-- a wound that will never heal” Susan Wiggs
This post was not meant to bring you down, make you feel sad or sympathy for me. This was a reminder that sometimes you do not get to keep people as long as you want to. I hope that you are inspired to call your mom, or better yet go visit her and give her a big hug. I would do anything to hug mine.
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