Grief- A Year In

Today marks a year since my mother passed away.  To be honest, I've been tempted to throw a big pity party all day.  My husband is in another country and called this morning to tell me he is extending his trip.  I totally understand and I know it is the best choice, but it doesn't change the reality that I am now on an extended tour of single parent duty, which I am not great at.   I don't think either one of us thought through the timing of this trip very well.  I feel confident we were both regretting it when he called a few hours ago and I could barely speak for the idiot tears that have been plaguing me all darn day.

As if that wasn't enough, my older girls had auditions today for a play they're hoping to participate in this fall, which means I needed to:

1.  Get out of my pajamas
2.  Drive in an area of the city that I don't normally brave to get them there, with all of them in the car. 
3.  Be encouraging and patient with their "What should I wear?  What if I forget my lines?  What if my voice cracks while I'm singing?" drama when all I really wanted to do is stay in bed, eat my imaginary Doritos, and watch Steel Magnolias.

I guess I could have called a friend to go out for ice cream or something, but since I didn't have a husband here to babysit, the babysitters I birthed were pre-occupied, and most all of the women in this country that I would feel comfortable baring my heart to are not even within a 4 hour radius of me today, that wasn't a good option either.  

I don't know what I would have done had the circumstances been different.  It's not like there is some prescription for surviving the first anniversary of one of the hardest days of your life.  I think that the way the day came together has just really echoed the essence of my grief over these last 12 months.   I have struggled so much with feeling alone since my mom passed away, which is something that is new to me.  I have, for as long as I remember, felt like I was part of a rich community.  At different times, that has looked different and been made up of different individuals, but it's always been there.  Since our move to Accra, and the death of my mom soon afterwards, I have felt so, so lonely.  I have a wonderful husband and some really great kids, but I have simply had this deep sense of loneliness that comes and goes.  

I have honestly missed my mom and the wonderful lady that she was.  I have missed her quirks and her funny habits and man, have I missed the way she loved my kids.  But, just as much, I have also really missed having a mom.  That may not make sense to anyone else, but that is the only way I know to say it.

You see, because I'm a mom, and because of my personality, and because of the type of vocation that I have chosen, I do an awful lot of taking care of other people.  I spend the lion's share of my waking hours making sure other people's needs are met.  I'm not insinuating that I'm a goodie two-shoes,  in fact, I'd say that's true for the vast majority of moms in the world.  Most of the time, I don't mind.  Most of the time, I get great satisfaction out of meeting other's needs.  But sometimes, I get weary.  Sometimes, I need to be taken care of too.  And honestly, I'm not very good at advocating for myself when that happens.  But my mom always had this knack for seeing that need, even when we were hours and miles and continents apart.  She would always go above and beyond to let me know that she saw me, the person who had needs and not simply the need-meeter.  

I remember when Abby was a few weeks old and I desperately needed sleep.  Ryan was working at a hospital at the time and had crazy early morning hours.  I refused to wake him in the night during the work weeks, because I knew he needed sleep too.  I knew that he wouldn't be able to nap during the day like I might.  One night, I called my mom who lived two hours away, in the middle of the night.  I'm pretty sure it was about 2:45am.  I was crying so hard that I couldn't speak.    Once my mom had calmed me enough to figure out that I wasn't hurt, the baby wasn't hurt, and that Ryan was okay too, I managed to tell her that I was just so, so tired.  She calmed me down and I eventually got to sleep.  The next morning, not long after the sun came up, she was ringing my doorbell.  As soon as her night shift at work had ended, she got in her car, drove to my house, took that baby from my arms, and put me to bed.  I knew she didn't have the vacation days to do it and I asked her what she was going to do.  She told me that they could fire her if they wanted to, but she was going to make sure I got some sleep.  That's what a mom does, isn't it?  

Every single time she came to visit us, she found time to go through our unmated sock pile and mate them.  Let me tell you, the pile didn't get any smaller as the number of children got larger.  Even when she got to Africa, she laughed and said something like, "Oh my word, you even have them here?"  

She carried my favorite brand of hot dogs in a cooler from Cincinnati to NC too many times to count.  She bought me new undergarments in the days when our bank account was super slim and she knew my children's needs were trumping mine.  She carried 5 suitcases to Nigeria and made all of her stuff for a month fit into one rolling carry-on.  

Who does that?  Your mom.  

For many years, when I heard that someone's mother had passed away, I had such a shallow understanding of what that meant.  After all, it is the natural order of things, is it not?  Parents usually die before their children.  Everyone can expect that one day their mother and father will die and it is likely that they will be around to see it, right?  I had girlfriends who had lost their mom's in their 20s and 30s and I didn't really understand why it impacted them so significantly.

Now I see things differently.  I have such a compassion for people when they lose their mother.  It is natural and it is to be expected, but it is still very painful and the hurt doesn't just go away.  I think that in many ways, it is even harder when you have young children.  At least for me, that seems to be what triggers my sorrow.  I have these moments where I realize so fully that my mom would love to know this bit of news or this little accomplishment and I want so badly to share it with her.  But, I can't.  

And, just like folks told me it would, the grief certainly comes in waves.  There are times when I go days or even a couple of weeks without a single tear or ache.  There are other times that the weight is so, so great.  For some reason, it has seemed more intense the last few weeks.  I can't decide if it is because we were headed to the one year mark, if it is because we are getting to the planning stages for our time in the States, or if it's just because, because?  

Little things trigger it.  We Skyped with my in-laws a couple of weeks ago and they were so excited about our trip to the States at the end of the year.  My mother-in-law was telling us how many days it was going to be until we arrived.  She shared all of her plans about the groceries she was going to buy and the cleaning she was going to do and it was all very kind and loving.  But somewhere, in the midst of the enthusiasm, it was like someone hit me in the stomach with a baseball bat.  I realized that my mom probably dreamed of that day, for many days after we left too.  If she was alive, she too would know the number of our days until arrival, she would be gathering winter coats and long pants, and making plans.  Then, I realized that when I get off the plane, my mom won't be waiting for me.  When I walk through the door of her house, she won't be there.  In many ways, the loss will be new, all over again.  It was a heavy realization and one that I'm sure will hit me again.

However, even in my grief, I do find so many things for which to be thankful.  I'm thankful for the compassion that I can have for others who are grieving and the understanding that I've gained that grief doesn't observe time limits and that it simply doesn't behave like we think it ought.  I am thankful that I have 5 healthy kids who are growing and maturing and of whom she would have many reasons to be proud. I'm thankful for the 3 healthy grandparents that my children still have in their lives.  I am thankful that I have in-laws that have compassion for my loss and want to make sure we have what we need.  I am thankful for my dad who has been a trooper with keeping his chin up, when I know he has to be some kind of sad and lonely too.  I am thankful for a husband who wishes he could take the hurt away and diligently tries to meet my needs.  I am thankful for the church that awaits us in NC and the people there who will make every effort to love us well and stand in the gap for my mom.  I am thankful for an ever-present Father who has reminded me, again and again that He is with me, even when I feel alone.