I remember the day I got the call that my mother had died like it was yesterday.
The sensation I felt on that day, like I was falling through a rip in reality, can sneak up on me at any time. The holidays amplify those sense-memories and highlight the deep, unrelenting sense of loss I feel. That the most horrible truth I could imagine had been realized. I was 28 and my mother was dead. She was 51. I was on the West Coast. She was on the East Coast. It was December 1, 2001.
It doesn't get any easier for me accept that she is gone. In fact, it gets harder, because there is more for her to miss. Since my mother died I got married, started-and-dropped-out-of-law-school, wrote 5 books in my name and ghostwrote more than 30 others. I had a child, my beloved dog died, we adopted another dog, and I got a big tattoo across my chest. I've been to Ireland, Costa Rica, and many new cities and states within the U.S. I've lost weight, gained weight, laughed, cried, danced, and tried so many new things I cannot begin to name them all.
And she has missed it all.
I am spiritual, but not religious. I dream about my mother frequently and I feel her with me sometimes, but I don't think I believe in Heaven, and I defitely do not believe in Hell. I don't know where she is, and that tortures me. She feels lost to me, and I to her. Sometimes I feel orphaned and strange and lacking and abandoned. Other times I feel angry and want to scream at her for leaving me the way she did.
This is where I shock you by telling you that my mother killed herself. She left me a very sad note that I used to read once a year but had to stop reading because it caused me to obsess on how I might have saved her. She was sad and sick and scared and done. I get that. I just really miss her and want here NOW so that I can use MY Supermom tricks to help her get out from under whatever cloud it was that caused her to give up.
I want to kiss her forehead, give her a warm bath, dress her in clean jammies, and read her a bedtime story. I want to say, "Sweet dreams," and "Good night! See you tomorrow." I want to make things better with the promise of a new day filled ice cream--or actually, with Mallomars and Cheetohs. They were her favorite.
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Claire Kreger-Boaz is a freelance writer, mother, wife, and Spuff for life.
Visit me at www.sandiego.momslikeme.com
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