Untitled

Five years ago today my mom died of cancer. It was a sunny Saturday morning just like today. And the though the raw pain of that day and the ones that closely followed has settled into a dull ache, the void she left in my life still affects me deeply.

I'm reprinting a post I wrote a couple of years ago in honor of this occasion because even today, two years later, it still sums up how I feel about it. There are truly somethings that a person never really "gets over."

Thursday, June 29, 2006
An Anniversary

Note to readers: I agonized over whether to post this or not; and decided that I would, with this disclaimer. I know that there are some of you who had bad moms or no mom at all. How I wish I could change that for you. I also know that there are many out there in blogland who have great moms, but with the busyness of life - jobs, family, distance, sometimes conflict - they have lost sight of what a precious gift they have in their moms which can disappear so suddenly and never be replaced. This blog is for them and for my mom. I love you mom....I love you the most.

Wednesday was an anniversary (of sorts) for me. June 28th 2003, a sunny Saturday afternoon, my mom lost her battle with cancer.

Three years....yet I can still remember the day as though it were yesterday. I was with her on that day. The day my precious precious mom slipped slowly out of my life and into the arms of Jesus.

She was just 65 years old.

I wanted to write a post about this day, to not let it pass without saying something and thereby hold on to her in some small part. But my thoughts were a jumble.

Am I writing in order to honor my mom? Well most certainly in part. My mom was an honorable mom. She wasn’t a perfect person (who is?) but she was a good, generous, decent, caring, warm person; she didn't always get it right but she was a very good mom.

I also wanted this post to really encourage you, to spur you on - if your mom is still alive, make the most of every opportunity to love her and let her love you. Because you’ll find that when’s she’s gone from your life, there is just nobody like her. Nobody loves you like your mom. Nobody cares about the little things and big things in your life in the same way. It’s just part of motherhood, I’m coming to learn as I’ve had children of my own. Noone will listen and care in the same way as your mom does - about your job, your spouse, your children, your struggles & your joys, about the last funk you fell into or furniture you bought for your den. It’s something special about moms.

Reflecting on three years without my mom...I wish I could have just one more hug and in knowing it is my last, linger in her arms a minute longer. I wish I could have one more visit and stay that extra day, and in knowing this house would no longer be hers, soak up her presence in it; eat and enjoy every morsel, talk about the past, write down her favorite recipes. I wish I could have just one more talk, and in knowing these are our last words, tell her how much she means to me, how much I love her, how much I appreciate what a good mom she’s been. I wish she could see my kids just one more time, and in knowing that they wouldn’t meet again until we’re altogether with Jesus, I would watch carefully the joy in her eyes, listen for the pride in voice, feel the tenderness of her touch as she hugged and kissed them goodbye. I wish I could have just one more phone call and in knowing I couldn’t call her again, talk about the little details of life that are so easily swept past and talk deeply of the things that really matter - of life and forgiveness and love.

I can’t have any of these things. I’ve had all my lasts. And it isn’t enough. Though it will have to be, until we’ll be together again with Christ. On that day, I trust that her perfected body will still be just the right size, I will hug her close.

My hope for you is that you still have time. Time and time again before your own lasts. And I pray that you would make them count, make them meaningful, realize what a treasure you still have to enjoy.

And if you’ve had your lasts, I’m saying a prayer for you. That you would have the comfort of Christ that I have found in this time of the loss of one so dear; the comfort in knowing that my own mom’s love was but a shadow of the kind of love He has for me. He does love me and “get” me and care about the biggest and smallest details of my life, even the heart-break of losing my mom.