I am lost. I’m adrift in a world of grief, pain, and throbbing hearts.
Its been 27 days since my beautiful mother, Cindy Mott, passed away from breast and skin cancer.
Sometimes, I don’t even think this life I’m living is real. How can it be? There are days when I can still hear her laugh and think she’s in the next room. There are days when I find out good news and she’s the first person I want to share it with. There’s a hole in my aching heart. A mother sized hole that cannot be filled by anyone; only she can fill that void.
Its the little things I miss most about her.
Her quiet voice, never raised in anger or frustration. Her soft fingers as they played and stroked my hair. Her Godly wisdom and direction. Her craftiness and creativity. The way she decorated our home. The centerpieces on the kitchen table are woefully lacking now that she’s not here to arrange them anymore. Her presence within our home.
Even in sickness, Momma was still there. I could still talk to her, stroke her fuzzy head( (her hair was starting to grow back from the last chemo treatments), kiss her fevered forehead, stroke her birdlike hands, and tickle her cancer ridden feet.
But now, she’s gone.
I miss her. In a selfish way, I would rather have her sick with cancer again if it means I could have one more day with her. One more chance to say “I Love You, Momma”. Give her one last kiss goodnight. Talk one more time about when I’m going to work. Tell her about my grades. Tell her about the young man who’s captured my fancy. We won’t get to do mother-daughter outings, like go shopping for clothes or crafts anymore. You won’t get to plan my wedding with me. Meet your grandchildren. Help me figure out how to homeschool my kids and be their favorite babysitter. You won’t get to share your wisdom with me anymore.
How can I be the woman I want to become when the woman I want to model myself after is gone? I’m lost…you were an anchor, my anchor.
How do I be the daughter and sister who comforts her grieving family when my heart has a gaping hole in it that can’t be filled?
Though it’s selfish and you’d never want to come back, I want you with me, with us. Moving on is hard; harder than I’d ever imagined. Your presence is everywhere. Everything reminds me of you. Flowers, music, family, friends.
You’ve left a legacy and big shoes to fill. My prayer and hope is that someday, Lord willing, I will be half the woman you were. If I could be like you, love Jesus with as deep a passion as you did, then I would consider myself a blessed woman. Your never yielding faith in the face of the most horrific trial of your life left an enormous impact on my personal walk with Christ. The last five years when she was fighting cancer was where I had the privileged of witnessing the most godly woman I know reach many people for her Savior. And now, I am reaping her benefits by being touched by those same people.
My life feels like an emotional roller coaster. I only see one set of footprints in the sand right now, but its because Jesus is carrying me. I’m taking it one day at a time. Step by step, He is leading me and showing me new things about my family and myself that I would never have known otherwise. Is it a journey I would have chosen for myself, no. But is it a journey worth taking? Yes. While I don’t know why God is bringing me through the loss of my mom, I hope and pray that I would not waste this time but that I would use it to grow closer to Him.
The loss of my mother has devastated me. It has turned me upside down, inside out, and twisted my emotions into a pretzel. But I have seen the love and kindness of family, friends, and complete strangers being poured out on my family and myself. It has been a hard journey these past 27 days, but it has been an incredible time of love, fellowship and rejoicing in the fact that my mom is cancer free and living life to the fullest with The One she loved most.
Even though this post is equal parts sorrow and joy, I wanted to share how i was feeling today. Each day brings new challenges and trials. Yesterday was particularly tough. But with the Lords help, I’m able to get out of bed each morning and remember that my mother is pain free. I miss her more and more with each passing day, but I know that she’s in a place with no tears, pain, and sin.