Skip to main content

Tough Mother's Day...



Mothers day has been a tough holiday for many years. Even before I lost my daughter and my mom it was always hard.

Mothers day can be difficult when you grow up with an alcoholic. I often stood in the card section with tears in my eyes because none of the cards fit our relationship. “You’re an amazing mother”, “you have always been there for me,” “you’re the best mom in the world” didn't exactly speak to our relationship. At the time I held so much anger towards my mother for choosing alcohol over her children, over herself. For years that anger made me distant and eventually making the decision to take a step back and love her from afar. I still called her, checked on her, but was cold and distant in order to protect myself. I could no longer stand there and watch her “kill” herself with alcohol. Doing this came with a price, it meant I closed off my heart, my love for her because I couldn’t think about losing her and thought that in doing this losing her would not be so hard. Then…

 A few short months later I found her lifeless in her bed and all those feelings were gone. The alcohol didn't matter, the anger went away as if it never existed, all I wanted in that moment was for her to be alive. My fear became a reality and I sat there one last time with her telling her just how sorry I was for failing her, for not being the daughter she wished I could have been.

In the time since my mothers death I have discovered the pain, the heartache, the hurt, the loneliness, and the sadness that she carried with her. The beautiful person and human being she was, and what I would give to have her back. I hate that death made me see my mom, truly see her and that I will never get the chance to make things right.

I knew my mom and I loved her so deeply that her death has really affected me the shoulda, coulda woulda’s haunt me. I couldn’t save her and I live with guilt every day.

This mothers day is double hard as I will not get showered with gifts, homemade cards, hugs and kisses from my should be 6 year old daughter, and I will not get to show my mom the love I have for her, give her a homemade card and give her hugs and kisses. Being a daughterless mother and a motherless daughter I hurt deep in my soul.


 I miss my Mckenna and I miss my mom. Mother's day is hard when you're a bereaved mom and a motherless daughter.  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

My treasured last week

Today I have been reflecting on the last week I had with Mckenna. It seems like I can recall every detail of the last week I had her in  my arms and thought I would share my last week.  My last day with Mckenna  Sat Sept 20th : Billy had Mckenna that weekend but left her with Tammy to come move our stuff into storage. I missed her but thankful to have someone to watch her while we moved  MOST of our stuff. Sun Sept 21st, 2008 : I worked that day and couldn't wait to get off work because I was getting Mckenna back. Billy dropped her off at my work I waited with her outside for Mare to get done because we rode together. She was happy to see her mommy. Mon Sept 22nd, 2008 : I had started this class at Pheonix college for my CCT at work so I could draw blood and put in and take out foley's. Mare couldn't watch her that day so my friend Lisa took the day off work to watch her for me. I had to wake up extra early to get ready just in case Mckenna was up earlier ...

Closing the Book of my Childhood...

Growing up I went to my Nana and Papa's house frequently. She would keep us weeks at a time in the summers. Nana was for a grandmother but also didn't take any back talk or attitude. When I was 10 years old, I moved in with Nana and Papa. My room was downstairs, without a door and had the washer and dryer in the room. Eventually they put on saloon like doors for a little privacy. I lived there until I turned 13. Big years living with your grandparents. Vital years really, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. I always felt connected to my Nana. We were a lot a like. I still wonder what she would think of me now and how I turned out. I would help around the property, help plant cactus (and laugh hysterically together after because we were so sweaty and gross), helped feed the animals, water the trees, water the plants, ride my bike all the time. I actually played out doors every day. Sometimes I was allowed to eat ice cream for dinner when no one wanted to c...

Graduation, Weeping Willows and Love

I have often thought about the analogy of trees and wind. Trees need to be flexible when the winds blow or they would break and not survive the storm. Rigid, stubborn trees trying hard to go against the wind grow tired, weary and broken. Fluid and flexible trees go with the flow of the wind, bending and bouncing back after a storm.  When I began my journey of becoming a social worker I was the stubborn rigid tree trying hard to control everything around me falling apart in the process. This became more of a challenge than allowing the wind to do what it does and go with whatever direction it goes. It was exhausting. I would come unhinged quickly, shut down and not stay with my emotions. Friends have told me that they saw it happen right before their eyes. 2 years ago I started the MSW program. I was fragile, unstable, rigid, shut down, broken and lost. I never thought the day would come for me to get my Master’s. Graduation felt like a million years away. Every class...