I’m not OK.
Oh, if you ask me I’ll say I am. But I’m lying.
Sure I can go through the motions without crying at least some of the time.
But every now and then I’ll be driving along and suddenly be overcome with a panic and my mind screams, “MOM!”
She’s not here any more. I can’t call her and tell her the funny or moving thing that only she could understand. Half my grief is for me and half is for my Dad.
When you lose your mom, you feel like you lost the one person in the world who knew you best–the one person in the world who loved you no matter what. She knew your history. She gave you much of it.
It’s only been a few days, but I miss her. I miss how much she loved not only me, but my husband, my son and everyone else who needed a little mothering.
I recently read that when you lose a parent, you lose your past. When you lose a spouse, you lose your present. And when you lose a child, you lose your future.
I’m not OK with that. But no one ever asked me if that’s OK. No one ever promised me life would be fair.
No, I’m not OK. I’m sure someday soon, I will be.
But I will never be the same.
God saw you were getting tired, and a cure was not to be.
So he put his arms around you and whispered, “Come with me.”
With tearful hearts we watched you fade away.
Although we loved you dearly, we could not make you stay.
A golden heart stopped beating, hard working hands at rest.
God broke our hearts to prove to us,
He only takes the best.
–from Mom’s holy card