Thought 28: A symbol of hope . . .

By the time I turned 28 years old, Bob and I had bought our first house and were enjoying all the wonderful things about living in Ann Arbor, Michigan. We survived the long and cold winters and soaked up the beautiful days that came with summer and fall in the Midwest. We had made wonderful friends in the community who were like family to us, especially living so far from our own. I continued to struggle with my health issues and the details of this time are so fuzzy to me. I know I had at least three surgeries in 2002, but the story behind each is escaping me. These were just tough years. Sometimes the words are just not there. 

My mom loved daisies. She always told me that they brought her so much hope just by looking at them. I started sending her a bouquet of daisies every month. One month I changed it up and sent her a cake with a huge daisy painted on it from our favorite Zingermans bakehouse in Ann Arbor. It is our flower together and a way for me to feel connected since losing her. I have even had a vase of daisies at each of Megan's birthday parities and always take a couple of stems to her grave site when I am in Tallahassee. They are a symbol of hope for me as I move forward and find my way here on Earth without her.

The anniversary of losing someone is marked differently by everyone. I had someone ask me recently for advice on what to do for a loved one that was approaching a difficult anniversary. I have no advice to give here unfortunately because what I would want or need is not what other people might need. Some people want the hugs and cards and reaching out. While others just need some space. I think it is a very private time, as are many anniversaries that come along in life. Today (Monday, July 28) is 5 years since my mom passed away. I happened to be in Tallahassee with my dad, which gave me the opportunity to share some daisies with her. I find the more I try not to think about July 28, the more I think about it and the harder it becomes. So, every year, I stop fighting and just let myself feel what I need to feel. 

I will never share the details of that last day here in order to protect her privacy and that of my family. I will say it was not something any of us were expecting that day and it was the worst day of my life. I do not have a lot to say about it, except that I miss her terribly. I still look around and think, "where in the world is my mom?" I stare at her headstone and her name and still just wonder how this can all be real. Anniversaries and holidays are difficult for most anyone that has experienced losing someone. I miss my mom so much on the first day of fall - this was her favorite day of the year. I also miss her tremendously at Christmas time, as I have never known anyone that loved that time more. I miss her every day. My mom embodied the word family and centered her life around it. 

So, that is all I have to say about that. I think it is time to crank up the music in the car like we used to, and dance all the way to the store to buy a bouquet of daisies for myself. I love you mom.