Losing Mom: A Journey Through Grief (Part 5)

November 14, 2020 - Three Months

Thursday night, the woman we worked with at Superior Monument called to notify me that mom’s headstone was in place at her grave.  I worked from dark to dark yesterday, so we made a plan to visit the cemetery today to see it.  The three of us were graciously joined by Dad, Grandma Otterbein, and Grandma Morris. 

It was a bittersweet day, to say the least.  To say more, it was quite heartbreaking.  Grandma Otterbein couldn’t believe she had to visit two of her daughters in a cemetery.  She hates that mom had to pass so young.  She’s upset that she can’t see well enough to even see their headstones, one right next to the other.  As she sat in her wheelchair, I guided her hand across the face of both stones, telling her what words she was feeling.  I told her seeing the stone didn’t make it any easier.  She said she knew that...

Similarly, it was quite lovely.  The three of us did pretty well picking out her stone.  And as much as I don’t want to need it, I do, so I’m glad it’s finally there.  However, I’m weirdly sad that all of our post-passing tasks are done...  As much as we dreaded all of them - picking out a casket, writing an obituary, planning a funeral, picking a stone - they were all for her.  Those decisions revolved around her.  And now there is nothing left on earth that needs to be done for her...  The thought pains me.  I wish she was here...

Heather and I have been going through the bills and paperwork she saved over the years, and many have her handwriting on them.  It’s strange to find her handwriting still throughout the house, as if she snuck in over night and jotted it down, then snuck out in the cloak of the fall darkness.  I wish that were the case sometimes, if I’m honest.  I wish she just went somewhere to be alone, to find some peace and quiet, to relax like a queen the way she deserved.  I wish she went for as long as she needed, and knew she could return home to me and find the biggest smile and hug waiting there for her.  But I know that’s not the case.  I know she doesn’t sneak in the house and leave us encrypted messages.  I know that she’s gone.  But I just don’t understand that fact.  I thought the permanence of her headstone would help me to accept it, but that didn’t happen either.

These last few days, I’ve come to accept that my grief will never end.  Some of you may think that sounds dramatic, it has only been 3 months after all, and the beginning is the hardest, or so I’ve been told.  But I know in my soul that it will last a lifetime.  I’m sure over time it will ease, but it will never completely disappear.  It will always linger.  I will never get over her passing, I will simply just continue to learn how to live without her, and those two things are not the same...  Think of it like a wound that never heals, or a scar that still aches depending on the weather, but imagine that pain being your entire heart and soul...

Yet I also know that I am blessed to have the family and friends that I do.  I feel some peace knowing that she is with her father and sister and God.  I feel honored to still have her protecting me and watching over me, just like she always did in life, even though I can’t see her too anymore... 

It’s unfair really, I agree with Grandma on that one.  I hate that she passed so young.  I hate that I’m so young and I don’t have my mother.  But I’m also so glad that she was my mother.  That she always will be.  That God granted me the most beautiful and selfless mother of them all... I don’t think I always deserved her love, but I’m beyond grateful for it.

I miss you constantly, and I love you endlessly.  I think every passing day just makes those feelings stronger.  I wish you were here.  I’m so so mad that you’re not...  But I know you’re close by.  And you’re always always going to be in my heart. 

With love, and hugs that I hope you can feel,

Sarah ❤️