Found in Uncategorized.

It’s Days Like This I Miss Her Most

February 14th, 2012 | Uncategorized | thirtygirl | 7 Comments

Marking the anniversary of her mother’s passing, my friend Meg has written a beautiful guest piece about the special way she keeps her memory alive.

My mom passed away on Valentines Day.

I wouldn’t say it has ever been a favorite holiday.  I’ve certainly had some doozies…like the year I came down with a violent stomach flu just as my boyfriend finished cooking us a romantic home-cooked meal, or the V-day I totaled my car on the way to my Gyno appointment (since going to the gynecologist’s not fun enough), or that it is an annual reminder that I bear no self control in the face of dark chocolate. So, all in, I’ve traditionally ranked the day pretty low on the holiday scale, perhaps just slightly above tax day.

But now, in the years after my mother’s passing, as much as I try not to give Feb 14 any power, my heart aches. What I wouldn’t give for just another moment with my Mom… So that I never forget.  So that it doesn’t seem like it’s slipping away.
I’ve found many people don’t ask because they aren’t sure what to say. So my opportunity to talk about my mother is rare. Which is perhaps why when it came up during my podiatrist appointment recently, both of us were caught off guard by my reaction. Somewhere between the discussion of my high arches and medical history, we got on the topic of my mother. I told him that it’s almost been two years since she passed and he said, “Oh wow, so you’re still very much in mourning?”  At first, I furrowed my brow – what was he talking about?  I was pretty sure I was done with that nonsense. Couldn’t he see how well I was doing? Intellectually, I know that mourning is a life long process.  But just like my mother’s “get on with it, already,” mentality with any hardship in her own life, I just wanted to move on.  But when I started to answer him, something overtook me. This sadness, these feelings that have been welling inside me for too long, this great need for her to be remembered, suddenly came flooding out. There, as he was shaving down my calluses, I burst into tears. Giant, uncontrollable, I-can’t-believe-I’m-crying-in-front-of-my-podiatrist tears. But as odd as it was to have this nearly perfect stranger comforting me, it was a relief to just get it out. To weep. To talk about it. To just say something. And so, it seems I’m still learning how to mourn.  Turns out, I’m not a natural at it. But more importantly, I guess is that I’m learning how to remember…

I like to imagine my mom’s reactions to the happenings in the world.  You know, the important stuff…

-  Would she be just as tired of the Kardashians as the rest of us?   The answer is YES. She’d probably sigh with great exasperation at the thought of a Kylie / Kendall spin-off. Btw- her fave was Khloe, she thought Kourtney looked like a rat…not the general consensus at the time, but years later, I realize she was ahead of the curve.

-  Would she have been as invested in Homeland as she was The Wire?  ABSOLUTELY.  A few weeks before she passed, still very frail and weak from the chemo we’d stopped during her advancing cancer, my mom woke up saying she had the most horrible dream about “that poor woman.”  My mom was all there mentally until the end, but I couldn’t help but be concerned, trying to discern this seemingly nonsensical gibberish.  What woman?  ”Don’t be silly,” she explained.  Her dream was about “Detective Kima Greggs” who was seriously injured during the Season 1 Wire finale my mom had watched the night prior (Sorry, SPOILER ALERT).

- Would she have preferred Pippa to Kate?  I’m still trying to figure this one out.  I do, however, know with great certainty that she would have ordered Thai food and stayed up all night watching the Royal Wedding coverage.

I hold onto these thoughts.  They are not technically memories, but they are connections that run deep, assuring me that I still know her and in a way, she is still here.  This year, when someone wronged me, her characteristic “don’t eff with me” attitude boiled within me.  She was a sweet little Scottish woman, but you didn’t want to get on her bad side.  I chose the high road, but smiled as I embraced this little fighter inside, this tiger, this unexpected emotional inheritance.  She was with me.

A few weeks ago, I naively crammed in 11 episodes of Homeland in the course of 2 weeks.  I awoke from my nightmares only to find my day thoughts conspiring to assist “Carrie” in her hunt for “Abu Nazir” and bring down Al Queda once and for all.   Out of control…I know.  BUT, there mom was again.  And again, I smiled.

Love comes in many forms.  Today my Valentine is an angel. I’d imagine she’s spending tonight designing her Oscar Party menu in honor of Billy Crystal’s Triumphant return.  Me too, mom.  Me too…

Meg is a Marketing Executive working in Hollywood, with an outstanding circle of friends, and the proud daughter of a father that took tremendous care of her mother up until the end.

Related Posts:

  1. I Sold My Soul To Hollywood And All I Got Was This Lousy Blog
  2. How Many Dates Does It Take To Get To The Center Of A TootsiePop?
  3. We All Have Questions Sometimes
  4. Facebook: To Friend Or Not To Friend?
  5. WHO’S YOUR DADDY?


« « Toward The Past: The Anatomy Of A Long-Distance Relationship
Toward The Future: Why Criminals Love The Academy Awards » »

User Responses

7 Responses and Counting...

  • Kara F.

    02.14.2012

    This was a beautiful piece. You have the best Valentine ever. Thank you so much for sharing. xo

  • Bob S


    Meg: That is a beautiful piece. I am sorry for your loss. Very touching.

  • Tee


    That was beautiful love letter. I think of Wendy often with a smile.We had some great laughs and talks.Thank you for thinking of me and sharing.I send my love and happy wishies for you in this not so much new year.Please send any updates of your life.Hello PQ with love Tee.

  • Roger


    Meg -thank you for forwarding and brought tears to my eyes-wonderful and we will never forget Wendy -a truly one off person -kind,caring and thoughful of other people -i miss her many cards and fabulous comments -she truly could read people and we had many laughs -my one regret was not visiting before the end to say last goodbye but one must not live with regrets and your kind letters keep the link and memory warm.
    she was so proud of you Meg and mentioned your progress and activities in every letter/card.
    We never forget you Wendy
    With love
    Roger in Scotland ( currently Dubai)

  • Rosie


    Dear Meg,
    This was such a touching tribute. Wendy would be overwhelmed by
    all you said.
    I have just read an incredible book which I think you would relate to
    “Every Last One” by Anna Quindlen.
    Of course I am so out of touch with the actors etc. you mention, but
    Homeland just started here last Saturday evening when we were in Cuba
    and all the reviews are outstanding. I hadn’t realised Wendy was a Wire fan -
    Gordon is too.

    I have the picture of you and Wendy here in my kitchen, and always remember her little expressions, her wonderful Scottish voice, her laugh, kindness and ebullient
    personality.

    Fondest love to you and your Dad from all of us,
    Rosie x

  • sarah


    M-I finally had the courage to read this myself…maybe I should’ve waited until I wasn’t at work, but here I am, crying and laughing to myself. I can’t think of a more magical way to honor my mom or yours than a few tears mixed with a little bit of laughter. You are one of the most amazing people I know and sometimes I think our moms (like our dads) are somewhere watching our lives like it’s the newest reality show giggling with each other and excited to see what each new episode brings.

    Love is you.

  • Alden


    Meg – You are a remarkable person. A gift to the world. Your openness, candor, and love is what truly sets you apart. I hope you keep those treasured attributes as you continue to integrate the mourning process. How very strong you are!

Leave a Reply

* Name, Email, and Comment are Required