All The Things

My mother died when I was sixteen years old after a six-year battle with brain cancer. She left four children behind and I was the oldest. Going through life without a mother is one of the hardest things I’ve had to endure. Every day, I’m reminded of her death in so many ways. For years, even if I wasn’t thinking about it directly, there was always a subtle sense of loss that accompanied nearly everything that happened in my life.

Devastating loss is a strange thing. It has the capacity to paralyze or propel. For some who loved her, it was paralyzing — and stunted personal growth for many years. Fortunately, these people have since found their ways and have gone on to bless the world with wonderful gifts in her memory. For me, her death eventually became a springboard to a life filled with purpose and meaning. But, that did not come right away. I allowed grief to consume me for a very long time. It’s just been within the last several years that I’ve come to realize just what her absence means in my life and how I use it to make every day mean a little more than the day before.

The self-inflicted, overly-busy life I live as a wife, mother, and physician became a never-ending list of chores. From putting up the Christmas tree to attending parent-teacher conferences to planning vacations — it all was just “one more thing I had to do.” But, finally, something changed that I can’t quite explain and my life became what I’d always wanted it to be — filled with gratitude, perspective, and freedom.

My mother’s life was cut short — she took her last breath when she was thirty-three. The tumor that took up residence in her head controlled her fate. The choice of how to live her life was taken from her. But, I have a choice. And, it suddenly became very clear to me that I am gifted a life she never even had a chance to live. Living a passive existence is no longer an option.

My heart has grown immeasurably by acknowledging and appreciating the experiences I have — that were stolen from her:

• The prom dresses she’d never help pick out
• The broken hearts she’d never help mend
• The weddings she’d never attend
• The pregnancy and baby advice she’d never give
• The grandchildren she’d never hold
• The tears of pride she’d never cry
• The foreign lands she’d never see
• The presents she’d never wrap
• The scoldings she’d never give
• The oceans she’d never see
• The spills she’d never wipe up
• The beds she’d never make
• The laundry she’d never do
• The advice she’d never give

Her memory still exists in my every day, but now it does so by way of she and I experiencing life together — for she is in me and I can show her…all the things.