The Secret of Life Is Enjoying the Passage of Time–James Taylor
I’ve found myself thinking a lot about time lately.
How quickly moments, minutes, months and years pass us by.
Events that happened years ago can be so vivid in our memories, while yesterday is a blur.
A moment can simultaneously feel eons away and so close.
Six years ago today I lost my Mother.
I’ve experienced a myriad of feelings the past few days and weeks.
This year, like all the ones before, has been different from the others. I was aware the date was approaching. I sensed it. I felt myself slightly more on edge than a normal day, but not on pins and needles and as thinly fragile as before.
During one conversation, my best friend commented on the matter. She would know, she knows my emotional Richter scale better than almost anyone else. When my mother passed away she stopped her life to be with me. She’s seen my highs and lows, so her comments speak truth. “You’re better this year. Your low month isn’t your low. You’re confident. Your mom would be proud.”
For the most part, she was right.
I won’t tell you things are all unicorns, rainbows and puppies, they aren’t. I think about my mother every single day. More so around holidays, and late August. I long to tell her my accomplishments, to seek her wisdom, to be there. The only way I can describe that pain is the sound of an infant’s cry. The fear, the longing, the needing comfort–that sound, is how my pain feels. Sometimes it comes when I am celebrating experiences with others, that I won’t be able to share with her (weddings, children, job news) Other times it happens for no other reason than I miss my mom.
Both my brother and I at different times have said we believe our mother’s top priority was to see both of us graduate, and move on to college. She was never supposed to make it that far. We had years more than we were expected to have. But she was determined, and God had his plan.
I had my mother just over 22 years, (my brother was 19) and while that is such a short time, it is a world more than many have, and for that I am overwhelmed, and blessed. I know many who don’t have a strong relationship with their parents, or one at all for that matter. My brother and I never once questioned how loved we were/are. We always had our parents support, and trust. We were a strong unit with a structured home. As a child, I assumed everyone’s life was much like mine, just with different people. As an adult, I’m becoming increasingly aware that’s not always the case. This humbles me. It makes me treasure memories and experiences so much more. It’s what’s shaped me to the person I am, and who I strive to be.
In the grand scheme of things, 22 years isn’t an awful lot of time.
But it is plenty of time to pass on important lessons, to teach manners as well as right and wrong, to instill values, all while providing the best example of Grace I could ever imagine.
Today I have mourned. I’ve shed tears.
I have also felt so blessed. So lucky. So loved.