Today is 7 years since I said good bye. 7 years without her. And today has been a pretty normal day. A toddler who was up too early, teething, runny nose, refusing food and begging for snacks. A young lady who went to a birthday party last night. Coffee in the pot. Dogs running in and out the door to enjoy the sunshine. And making lists for packing and moving. Today is Saturday. But today is also March 12.
It didn’t really hit me this year until I was alone in the car, running much needed errands, and a song called “bye mom” came on the radio. I don’t know if I’ve ever actually heard the whole thing. I always just hit next or change the station. But somehow today I didn’t catch it and suddenly a rose was being placed on a grave as the musician said “bye, mom”. And now I’m sitting in the target parking lot, thankful for large sunglasses and even slightly tinted windows. Because, damnit, bye mom are two words that I took for granted for so long and now I’ll never say them again.
Every once in a while it twinges when Audrey says those words. I’m not jealous, necessarily, but I miss ending conversations with those words. I miss the fact that saying goodbye means there was something wonderful that lead to that. I know that my goodbye all those years ago wasn’t my last, but it was my very last earthly words that I would ever speak to the woman who loved me more than she loved herself. The last words of a scared mama to be, in her 20’s, wishing that God had seen fit to give us a miracle - but also knowing her Savior was waiting for her.
I don’t know how long I’ll be in this parking lot. I don’t know how many tears are going to fall before they dry up and life moves on, but I’m just gonna sit in this. Because grief is hard but it also can’t be ignored. And I know that as I get farther away from her death, the days will become more and more normal. More filled with birthday parties and soccer games. More filled with home work and yard work. More filled with the needs of the little people who call me mom. More filled with the life we are living because life didn’t stop when hers ended. So I’m not rushing these tears. I’m missing her and the tears are falling. The errands can wait.
