The Hardest Post I’ll Ever Write…

Some of you already know this story, so bear with me while I’m wrestling everything out here.

On July 26th, I was sitting at the computer, working on some articles for a client and twittering away with friends. At about 11 pm, the phone rang. You know that sinking feeling you get when you know something is wrong? It hit me like a ton of bricks. I ran to the phone and saw my parents’ number on the caller ID. My first thought was that something happened to my grandma, since she had recently been hospitalized. I grabbed the phone, steeling myself for the worst, but never expecting to hear the words that came through that phone.

It wasn’t my dad calling about my grandmother, it was my 13 yr old, who was staying with my parents at the time. I still cannot believe the words that came out of his mouth, as they were the words that I dreaded most in my entire life. He was sobbing hysterically as he told me, “Mom, Gram is dead.” I literally screamed at the top of my lungs. No, not yet, not my mom.  She’s only 57, she’s my best friend, I still need her.

Hubby and I somehow managed to get dressed, pack a diaper bag and start the longest half hour drive of my life. All the way there, I swore he had to be wrong. She was just sick, had had another heart attack and was unconcious. This couldn’t be happening. But when we pulled up in the driveway to two state police cars and my father, son and brother standing outside, I knew it was true.

Last week I lost one of the few people in this world that truly understood unconditional love. My mom was the kind of person who became the friend of everyone she met. She found no fault in anyone and got angry with me what I pointed out people’s faults to her. No, she wasn’t a perfect person. She had an Irish temper that could make a grown man run and hide, but most of the time she was nearly a saint. Her temper was saved for the select few that she loved best, I suppose…particularly a difficult daughter whose personality traits were too similar to hers, yet at the same time too different.

My mom and I could have arguments that would divide most families one minute, then go back to being best friends the next, with everything forgiven and forgotten. She was the type of mom that everyone wanted to have and I consider myself blessed to have had her in my life, though 30 years was nowhere near long enough. She taught me to laugh at myself and to accept people for who they are, though I struggle with that sometimes. She taught me how to be a mother, when I came home pregnant at 16 years old. She helped me raise my oldest son, acting as his second mother. She taught me about having faith in God and the importance of having a relationship with Him. There were many more things that I needed and wanted to learn from her and swore that I’d have the time, but now she is gone.

In times like this, it is sometimes hard to see a person’s faults and they come across as a saint in your mind, even when they were not. But with my mother, there were few faults to see, unless being too kind is a bad thing. I’m going to miss calling her five times a day with every little thing that the babies do. I will miss having her approval and support with every decision I make. I will miss feeling like I know that she will always love me and be there for me, no matter what happens or how horribly I screw up. She was my backbone, my rock and my best friend. My life will never again feel complete without her.

Mama, I miss you.