Grief has no timetable. It’s not a train that comes into the station on a certain schedule, but shows up without warning to announce, once again, that Mom is gone.
She died Dec. 29, 2015, had been dying for the six years since her cancer diagnosis. I visited her in Minnesota as often as I could, and she would spend about a month each year with me in Key Largo. She was always upbeat and positive, holding on to a deep and abiding faith in God…and to the shreds of hope that maybe, at her next visit to the oncologist, there would be a new treatment that would push her cancer into remission.
It didn’t happen. I knew my last visit, over Christmas, would truly be the last time I saw her. She passed away three days after I returned to Florida.
I was glad to be with her in her final days and let her know every day how much I loved her. I told her I had dedicated my coaching book to her and I hope she heard me. She had other things on her mind.
Living with grief
Returning to Minnesota in January for her funeral was hard, made worse by the harsh winter cold and relentlessly gloomy days. Within 24 hours of arriving back in Key Largo, I came down with a cold, which morphed into a sinus infection. I had four days of good health before I was stricken with a case of food poisoning, the worst I’ve experienced.
All my own health issues no doubt were a physical reaction to my grief, and a pretty sly way of not having to deal with it. Yes, I felt empty. Yes, I knew my mom was gone and that I was an orphan. But apparently that intellectual knowledge wasn’t enough, as I’m learning this Mother’s Day, the first since since her death.
My grief comes in waves, towering over me and pushing me under, flooding my eyes with salt water. Every time I hear or see a Mother’s Day ad, it sends another needle into my already bleeding heart. I know it’s normal and natural and I’m taking my own coaching advice — letting myself feel it instead of stuffing it. Letting it was wash over me.
But God…it is so hard.
I see her everywhere, in the bright yellow and blue kitchen she helped me paint. In the bottle of Miller High Life Light beer she left in the fridge after her last visit. In her many battered crossword puzzle dictionaries (she bought a new one every time she visited). I see her in the now-empty planters on the carport divider where we planted colorful impatiens at her instigation. These are all fresh reminders of my loss.
I worry that my grief makes me strident and harsh with others. I don’t want that. I want very much for my grief to subside, to move away like a gentle, outgoing tide. And sooner or later, it will. I know that in my head. I’ll still carry that grief over losing my mom, but I hope it softens so I can refocus on my work and my passion, helping other women.
So I sit down and rewrite with feeling what yesterday was a pretty dry recitation of lessons learned from my mom, who was my first coach long before there was such a thing. Some of those were direct lessons and fairly mundane – like how to make Easter soup – and others went a lot deeper. Some I resented fiercely. Some I embraced. Others I didn’t learn until after she died.
Mom’s biggest lesson
The biggest lesson: She had faith in me, and from her faith, I grew my own. For that, I owe her more than I can express.
Here are some of the other lessons Mom taught me.
- There are no limits.
- Pick up after yourself.
- How to properly iron clothing.
- Sing, regardless of who’s listening.
- The steps to the polka, jitterbug and the schottische.
- Explore whenever you can.
- The yumminess of buttered, homemade bread fresh from the oven.
- The delicious difference between store-bought and homemade egg noodles.
- How to make Polish Easter soup.
- Clean up the kitchen behind you as you cook.
- For every minor scrape and bruise, “It will heal before you get married.”
- Not every mom looks, dresses or acts like the ones you see on TV or in magazines.
- Education is worth the investment.
- Be independent; don’t rely on others to support you financially.
- Don’t dilute your liquor with anything but ice or water.
- Playing with plants and flowers.
- How to identify vintage cars.
- Go for it.
- Don’t let other people’s opinions prevent you from doing what’s right for you.
- Hang in there.
- Believe in a higher power.
- Believe in miracles.
- Be strong.
- Age is mind over matter – if you don’t mind, it don’t matter.
- Do what you enjoy.
- There is no distance in the heart.
- Don’t let anyone isolate you.
- Let others make their own mistakes.
- You can’t fix everything.
- Just because something is old doesn’t mean it’s useless.
- Secrets are dangerous.
- Don’t lash out in anger, but don’t keep it bottled up, either.
- Express yourself.
- Have courage.
- Sometimes the best thing you can do for someone you love is to let him or her go.
- If you want something, ask for it.
- Stick to your commitments.
- Keep your mind sharp.
- Appreciate what you have, while you have it. Nothing lasts forever.
What lessons have you learned from your mom? Please share in the comments. P.S. If your mother is still alive, be sure to tell her you love her – as often as you can.