The knowledge that you are no longer here is a sudden raw sadness that strikes at odd times. Strangely, I have been irrevocably changed for the better by your death; grief has made me so much more empathic, more patient, much more open-hearted about where you might be now (I am sure at times, I can feel your presence somewhere beneath the ether).
Always I wish for you to be here. The worst moments have cut deeper because on top of everything, you are not here when I need you. And the joys are tinged with the presence of your absence. I know you would be first to the dance floor, first to open the champagne; you are the first person I want to call. But the loss of you has meant that in some way, you have been right here through this transition to becoming the me I know I was meant to be. The irony is that much of this is because you are not here.
As much as I cannot replace the wholeness of you, I have found ‘other mothers’ of all ages who have bolstered me, soared with me and stood beside me when the moment called; each having some quality I miss in you. Often I have wished to have just one more day with you: one golden day to ask questions, hear your stories, hold your hand. And on Saturday afternoon I was driving alone, a few hours afterwards. Bubbling with excitement and love, I marvelled at the idea of being this happy. Instantly, the bargain entered my head: ‘Would I swap this for a day with you?’
I knew the answer at once, and it made me cry, because without hesitation I chose my future over my past. I have found a deep love and affection that is real and palpable. And I know that I would not have found him, had I not lost you. And so in some way I have found you again, and this is as perfect as it can ever mortally be. For all of it, I am so thankful.
I miss you every day.
Your Sas xxx
Comments
Wow. Remarkable, beautiful, touching. I lost my mom in 2007, and although I’m in a good place about it all now, I still strongly relate to what you’ve written.
thank you for sharing this. I’m happy for you, too. :)
You have articulated exactly what I feel, particularly now. Four years ago today, I was in the midst of spending two weeks watching my vibrant mother slip away, three years ago I met Joe Brown. Her death spurred me on to take a deep breath and ditch the life I’d come to hate and build a life I love.
Sweet sentiments while remaining true to yourself, brilliant.
sas, this bought a lump to my throat.
it is so poignant and beautiful.
your mother is smiling wide and proud, i am sure.
xo
Thank you, sas, for sharing your mother with me. I feel a little squeeze around my heart, and being glad for you and your future, doesn’t lessen the grief you feel for not having her with you any more. I love my mom more after having lost her; even the bratty things she did bring a smile, now. Big hug and gratitude for your blog.
I wish I was there to hold your hand and give you big hugs & smiles. You are such a beautiful person.
Sxo
This is beautiful. I can feel your love, I can feel your pain and your happiness. I’m sure your Mum is with you proud and happy for you.
That’s beautiful sas, your mum must have been a fantastic woman. You remind me how lucky I am to still have mine around.
What a beautiful and gifted writer you are, Sas.
I’ve written something from your post down to have in front of me today – “choose your future, not your past”. That’s something I really needed to hear right now, so thank you :)
Your mother sounds like a lovely woman. I’m sure she is immensely proud of you x
Thanks to Green Ink for the link to your lovely blog. She’s already said it – you are a beautiful writer. “Choose your future not your past” came through at exactly the right time for me too :)
I don’t have words to follow that. Love you. x
What a wonderful tribute to your Mother! I too have felt like you, wanting to be able to talk to my Mother who died in 2002 about Politics, etcera or to listen just one more time to the stories about how she & my Father met on a blind date & 6 months later married! Im single, very set in my ways but if I could meet someone to share my life with on my terms, laughing out loud, Id be estatic!
Is that her? You are so like her!
Beautiful tribute. Thanks for sharing
PCx
thank you all so much – this post was easy-hard to write.
@pc yes that is my mum – she would have been about 28 when the photo was taken.
so moving sas x
Achingly, achingly beautiful post. You are an amazing person, no wonder SG loves you so.
Sarah Chick. No wonder you are a beauty, just look at your Mum. Maxman.
..this resonates with me so much my Mum moved on from this world nearly three months ago…it has been hard but lovely to read what I know I will soon feel…it gave me some strength ..
Thats so beautiful.
You look very like your mother.
@betty thank you for your lovely comment. i’m so sorry you lost your mum – grief is such a bitch isn’t it?
Oh Sas, I don’t know if you’ll ever see this comment as it is an old post but I just wanted to say thank you for sharing this. I lost my wonderful mum 3 and a half years ago and for a long time I’ve felt like my hart was ripped out of me on that day when I watched her slowly slip away. It’s taken me some time to pick myself up and start rebuilding my life with the knowledge that she’s no longer here to spur me on and praise every little positive thing I did in my life, but I also finally feel that I have healed and can continue living my life with even more appetite for good living then before because I now understand so much better that life is the most precious gift that we have all been given.
I’m so glad I’ve stumbled across your blog :) Happy New Year and may 2010 bring you endless happiness and joy.