Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Mom, today we laid you to rest.

When you're young, you hope this day will never come, and you think that you have all the time in the world. All the time to say "I love you." You also think you'll have your mother with you forever. She's the first love you'll ever know. No one ever quite loves your like you like your Mom. So when that day comes, even as an adult, it still hits you like a ton of bricks. It still breaks your heart. You feel as though a piece of you is missing.

I started this blog in 2008 primarily for my Mom, (and my Dad,) but mostly my Mom. I wanted to keep her up to date on the birth of our first son, Evan, so she could see photos, hear stories, learn about all the "firsts," and see all of the things she would have otherwise missed living down in Florida. Then Eliana was born and I kept Mom up to date with all new and exciting things from when she was a baby.

My Mom hasn't been in great health for years. She had a bad bout pneumonia as a teenager that landed her in the hospital, and back then, it was almost enough to kill her. She survived but still suffered with breathing and lung problems for the rest of her life. She dealt with asthma for as long as I can remember, but later it became full blown COPD. She was on oxygen for about the past 10 years but by no means bedridden. She was determined to not let it hold her back. Mom and Dad went on lots of vacations and traveled all over the world. Mom loved gardening, reading and writing out on the lanai, having a hot cup of cocoa while watching old movies on TMC, and going out to the British Pub with my Dad. In later years, that oxygen tank went everywhere with her. She didn't let it stop her from doing what she wanted to do, and from being herself. But as the years went on breathing became more difficult, and even something as simple as walking from the bedroom to the kitchen would leave her exhausted and out of breath. She no longer has to fight for every breath. But as I sit here in my parent's house. I am missing her really badly.

Mom, your service was beautiful. Minister John from Avow got up and said a few words and prayers. Paul got up and gave a wonderful speech, followed by Bill, and myself. Each one of us struggled to get through our words. I was trying so hard not to cry that my face was contorting and I didn't know if I was even making any sense. Of course, I finished by saying what you always said at the end of all of our phone conversations: "By for now." Then the three of us brothers, plus Dad, took your remains over to niche. Minister John said a few words, we each touched the urn, and I placed it in the niche. It was really really hard to say goodbye. Even if it only is for now.

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