Since my mom passed away three months ago, I have been trying to encapsulate my feelings. Darlings, there are so many topics I want to talk about, things I want to share, but I am dealing with grief for my mother – and that has unfocused my concentration. I know many of you have experienced the devastating loss of a mother. There truly are no words…
After someone passes, their things are left behind
During the past several weeks I have had to disrobe my mother’s apartment. This Friday, a company will arrive and undress my mother’s home… almost her entire lifetime. Men, with no feelings of emotion, will come in and load her belongings onto a truck and drive off into the unknown. My only hope is that strangers will appreciate, care for, and find joy in my mother’s beautiful possessions.
Of course, my family had the first choice of my mom’s belongings. Though I knew better I had hoped my family members would take everything in her apartment and leave it naked for the next person(s) to create a capsule of new couches, chairs, lamps, and bedroom furniture in what once was my mother’s sanctuary, her home. Dreams are dreams. Reality is reality. I am devastated about what is going to happen this Friday.
I visit my mother often to deal with grief
I have visited with my mom in her apartment several times since she passed away on the first night of the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah. It is fitting that she waited until the end of the year to leave me because she always completed what she started. And, curiously, she took her last breath at sunset. I interpreted the timing of her death as her message that she completed her stay and it was time for her to join my father, and that means I mourn them both together once again. I have been quietly suffering; finding it hard to concentrate, looking elsewhere for solace and meditation. Mourning the loss of my parents is a part of life that I am finding almost inconsolable and I am heartbroken. I will always be their child and I will always need them. I have taken the time to …’simply be’ and take the time to mourn my losses. But how do I?
I go down the elevator from our apartment in the sky to my mom’s abode, I have conversations with her, and I tell her about my day. I ask her for advice, and I tell her how much I miss her laughing and hearing her voice say, “I am so happy to see you, I love you.” I tell her how grateful I am to have had her as my mom. I tell her where, in our home, I placed all her possessions that have sentiment. I tell her I am lonely for her touch. I tell her funny stories about my ultimate concierge. She loved him like a son. I tell her I am fine and how could I not be….I am my mother’s daughter. This is how ‘to simply be,’ darling. This is how I mourn the loss of my mother. I talk. And, I hear…her answers.
And, then I leave her home and go up the elevator and enter the world of reality because when all is said, I am a wife whose husband needs her, and I give him my all. I own a company that needs me and fortunately, I do have my honey bees. You know my saying, “Women need women.” I need them now more than ever and I know in my heart they are here for me. I more than like them. I admire them. I feel connected to them. We are a team through thick and thin and this is comforting.
The path to moving forward through grief
I have had to manage the undressing of my mother’s home, hire the company to place her belongings, hire a contractor to paint and refurbish, and a real estate agent to handle the sale. I have had to handle her papers with the attorney and continue to take care of our home, our family responsibilities and of course our darling, America.
One of my unspoken goals has always been to make my mom feel pride in my intentions. Like all daughters or most daughters, they want to copy their moms. I did. Not copy everything of course but I am 95% my mother’s daughter.
I am my mother’s daughter
How do we differ? My mother was wiser with money. My mother was not forgiving. My mother was not as outwardly warm but she was very friendly. My mother did not appreciate nature (my father did.) My mother found humor in the smallest quip. My mother hid her deep feelings. Other than that we were two peas in a pod. Multigenerational best friends.
When it came to fashion, I am my mother’s daughter. A little Avant Guard, a lover of the accessory, an unexpected surprise in an outfit yet quite elegant or sporty look in our attire. Even as I’m writing this and thinking of our fashion styles – I can hear her saying, “Don’t forget a strand of pearls. Pearls never go out of style.” I’m making pearls a true statement piece this winter, just because! I am my mother’s daughter. I have her wisdom in my head. I am smiling.