It’s been a week. A week since my mom died. It sounds so weird to say that. My mom died. It’s one of those phrases you simultaneously dread saying and believe will never happen.
The “firsts” have already begun. First phone calls to my parents where my dad chats for a few minutes, then hands the phone over to my mom so we can chat about my day. The first Halloween without her. She LOVED Halloween and always enjoyed seeing what my daughter dressed up as. As the Christmas decorations make their appearances in the stores, I am realizing that LAST Christmas was her LAST Christmas. It’s almost too much to bear.
Seeing her little wheelchair empty, her little spot she sat in in our den, her bed with no little lump under the covers in the middle where she liked to sleep. Oh, the pain. Just knowing I’ll NEVER see that again. NEVER get to call her again to tell her how my day went. NEVER get to ask her for mom advice again. I am in a daze.
My daughter asked me one day last week if I would be sad forever. I told her that yes, a part of my heart was missing now. That part that is so special…that only belongs to your mom…it’s like a hole in my heart.
While that hole will never be filled, life goes on. We took my daughter trick or treating. I went back to work. Life does go on….but just because I’m going through the motions of life, that doesn’t mean I’m over the loss of my mother. It means I am striving to be the best mother I can be. It means being the mom my daughter deserves to have. The kind of mom I had. The kind of mom I had. Had…..had.
That's So Fletch 
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