Day 111: Living


One hundred and eleven days since my mother’s beauty graced this earth. One hundred and eleven mornings I’ve woken up and immediately thought, “She’s gone.” It’s been an awful one hundred and eleven days. It’s been an awful task to face each day without her here.

But I do it.

I fix my children’s breakfast. I let the dog outside to pee. I shower. I buy groceries. I pay bills. I sit at my computer and try to write a humor article, but the funny just won’t come. I pick the kids up from school. We go to piano or ball practice. I cook supper. I give the baths and pick out tomorrow’s clothes. I watch television. I toss and turn in the dark bed. I stare at the little green light on the smoke detector. I pray. I cry. I go to sleep. I wake up and do it again.

I do it every day. I learn how to live without her. And let me tell you, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

Sometimes I sit on the bathroom stool, stare at the tile and think about doing this for the rest of my life. I want to scream at the thought of continuing this way- fixing breakfast, walking the dog, cooking supper, watching my daughter play ball- I want to scream and cry and beat the bathroom wall at the thought of living “normally” without my mama here. I cry at this new phase in my life. I cry for my mother and the lifetime I have left without her.

After I’ve felt sorry for myself, and suppressed the urge to scream and cry and beat innocent walls, I pull it together. I toughen up and convince myself that it won’t always be this way.

“It won’t hurt this badly forever,” I say. “It hasn’t even been a year. It hasn’t even been six months yet. This is still fresh. You won’t always hurt like this.”

I want to believe that, but I’m not so sure.

People often tell me, “The first year is the hardest. The first holiday and birthday are going to suck. Things will get easier with time.”

My daddy died years ago, and the firsts were the hardest, that’s true. But it’s been 22 years and I still mourn that man. Every Thanksgiving. Every Christmas. Every birthday. Every milestone. I’ve always felt a void because he wasn’t there.

And as much as I adored my father and ached at his absence, he was not my mother. My mother was everything to me.

This loss hurts significantly more.

Deeper. Sharper. Tougher.

Years from now, I fear I’ll still just be going through the motions. I’ll watch my daughter walk down the aisle on her father’s arm, and I’ll shed a tear for my mother who adored her. My son’s wife will give birth and I’ll ache that I can’t pass the baby over to my mama. I’ll sit in a chair in a retirement home, with drool seeping from the corner of my mouth, and I’ll beg the Lord to let me come on Home so I can see her again.

I’ll never get over this loss. I’ll continue to function. I’ll parent. I’ll laugh with friends. I’ll keep fixing the breakfasts and running the errands. I’ll live, but my heart will always long to be with her.

I’ll always weep for my mama.

 

 

 


About Susannah

I'm a freelance writer, blogger, aspiring best-selling author, wife of one and stay-at-home mother of two. I was chosen for the Top 13 in Blogger Idol and contribute pieces to The Huffington Post and Hahas for Hoohas. My work has also been featured in several humorous e-books, "Southern Writers’ Magazine", "The Humor Daily", "The Funny Times" and on the Erma Bombeck website. When I'm not putting pen to paper, bandaging boo-boos or spraying Shout on unidentifiable stains, I enjoy reading, playing the piano and teaching my children all about Southern charm. God has blessed me beyond measure and to Him be the glory forever.


What Say You?

10 thoughts on “Day 111: Living

  • Shurtorra Wold

    I’m laying in bed crying as I read this. It’s been 6 years since my mom passed and I wish I could say that it hurts less…….. but I think I have kind of gotten used to the weight of the pain. But there are still times when I want and need her dearly. When my husband and I had our son I ached because she wasn’t there to cheer me on with my mother in law and husband, I ached for her when we got married because she would have moved heaven and earth to witness it. I ached for her when I got and started my new job. I ache for her now.

  • Karen

    Susannah. I’m sorry for your loss and tremendous pain. My father died 2 1/2 years ago. I agree that the first year is excruciating. Nothing is the same. Life is forever changed. Everyone is different but for me I had very slowly gained some peace over time. I can now think of my Dad and smile and laugh and give thanks for his life without feeling such deep profound sadness. I miss him every single day but my emotions have adjusted to the reality of not having his physical presence on Earth. I dream of him often and feel comforted by that connection to him in the spiritual world. Hope this makes sense and helps comfort you in some small way! Keep on trying to find the small joys in life and don’t feel guilty about feeling sad!

  • Debbie Etterling

    I feel the same way about my mother…it is a natural part of life they say…it will get easier they say…but what is natural about loving your mom and dad and then nothing being completely whole after they are gone…there is always something missing…always something missing

  • gingerfinn

    I recently watched your Redneck vs Southern video, which was hilarious by the way, and it led me here… This post caught my eye…. All I can say is me too, except it was my daddy, (I blogged about it in a similar way, I just couldn’t believe people had been walking around with that much pain and I didn’t even know.) and that I am so sorry. Eventually two quotes started me on my road to “healing”…
    “You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.”
    –Anne Lamott
    “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
    ― A.A. Milne

  • Tara Richardson

    Thank you for sharing, because you summed up very quickly the feelings you feel when you experience the loss of a mother. I lost my mom suddenly and unexpectedly on Christmas Eve last year. That was our first Christmas without her and that was always the time she loved the most. Her birthday is around the corner, and I just moved into a new home I know she would’ve loved, and as I cleaned the drawers to put in liners, doing those everyday tasks you mentioned, all I can think of is I wish she were here to see this! I understand what you’re feeling, and appreciate you sharing and putting it into words that I can relate to. I hope your journey is getting easier. Mine has. I cry less, but once in a while something stirs those feelings and memories and I get teary and sad for a moment…then I pick myself up and get on with my day…all the while, missing my mama too.

  • superkathy

    This really got to me. I still have my precious mother and I know how fortunate I am. I turned 45 this year and I cried because I know I don’t have 45 more years with my mama. There is no other like your mother. I will hug mine tighter when I see her this week. I hope your pain eases.