Two years ago today my mom passed away.
I am usually OK with her being gone.
Since we didn't live close to each other for the last 20 years of her life, at first I could just pretend that she was in Utah and I was in Arizona and think I would call her in a few days.
It made things easier.
However, for some reason, the past few days I have really been missing her.
When we came home from our Spring Break trip to San Diego I started thinking, "Last time we went to San Diego for Spring Break we came home and went to Utah for a funeral." The 2 trips are kind of connected in my mind. Just like the Spring Break Disneyland trip and my dad's funeral immediately after.
Perhaps I should do away with Spring Break trips to California.
Anyway, since we got home, my thoughts have kind of frequently drifted to my mom and the fact that she is definitely gone.
It's been long enough.
It's very real.
No more pretending she's sitting at her computer reading this blog post.
On Tuesday night we had Relief Society Temple night. We usually have it on the last Tuesday of the month but this month it got kicked up a week because next week our Stake has family week to prepare for General Conference and we are supposed to be home with our families.
It turned out to be a good thing because a sister who recently moved out of our ward went through the temple for her own endowments that evening and we could be there to support her.
It was a nice, but VERY FULL session.
During the session, I was looking down at my apron and thinking about my mom, who made it for me. There is a tiny spot on the embroidery floss in one place that I am pretty sure is her blood. She probably pricked her finger while she was stitching away. I look at it sometimes and I'm reminded of all the sacrifices that my mom made for me.
There are a lot of them to think about.
For some reason though this night, as my fingers traced that drop of blood, I was just filled with an overwhelming sense of loss.
I missed my mom so much.
I'm sure the friends seated on both sides of me wondered why I suddenly began to quietly cry.
I was anxious to reach the peace of the celestial room where I could sit and think and feel the closeness to my parents that I frequently feel there. The veil there seems thinner and eternity and the opportunity to see my mom and dad again seems closer.
However, once I entered the celestial room it was a place of joy and excitement and congratulations and it was wonderful, but not peaceful. Way too many people sharing their thoughts and feelings. I gathered with friends and then it was time to leave and I was the designated driver so I never got the opportunity to just sit and decompress and think and feel and be filled.
I need to go back and just sit and be still.
I know it will help.
I know I will see my loved ones again.
I know this is not the end.
I also know that sometimes it is just fine to feel sad.
To miss the people that I don't get to be with right now.
To wish I could just talk to my mom for a few minutes
and give her a hug
and get hugged in return.
I miss her and that's OK
and I took my moments to grieve this week
and that's OK too
and now I will pull myself up by my boot straps
and live the kind of life that my mom wants me to live
and the kind of life that will get me to where she is
and where I can be welcomed by her loving embrace.
That's what she would tell me to do if she were here
and that's what I'll do,
even when I miss her.
Today I am grateful for
the citrus blossom scent that fills the evening air when I walk outside.
a son that was grateful for me today.
a husband that washed the dishes.
