This post is intensely personal. Maybe I shouldn’t even share it. But as a writer it feels so wrong to not write about it.
Two weeks ago today, my sister called to say that our mom had passed away. Mom had battled mounting health challenges for a number of years, so I guess in theory our loss shouldn’t be a surprise. Yet it was. It is.
It still is.
I learned so much from Mom. She didn’t teach me how to cook. Or how to keep house. God knows she tried. She was my go-to guru for all things business. She was a trailblazer; a female in middle management in the earliest days of women’s lib. Savvy and instinctual, she had a sixth sense for all things corporate.
She was so smart.
She was my number one fan. When I was going through her papers I found all the manuscripts I’d shared with her, printed out and filed. Dog-eared and loved. She read this blog. She bought multiple copies of my book and sent them to friends all over the world.
She was so much more.
I miss her horribly. I can’t believe how much this hurts. I know the best thing I can do is continue to love my life, value my loved ones. And I will. But I just felt an odd obstacle by not shouting out loud, “I knew this beautiful woman. She’s gone and I’m grieving her.”
My mom is survived by me, my two sisters and our eight children. Her loss is mourned by many relatives and friends from her 76 years of life. We will be gathering for a private memorial over Labor Day weekend. I suspect we will share lots of tears and laughter and our love and appreciation of each other. The best of her will live on through us, but I’m sure I’ll miss her for a lifetime.
Love you, Mom. Rest in peace.