Yesterday was 2 years without him… I couldn’t even address it yesterday. It was sharp and unbearable to even think about. Sometimes there aren’t words… sometimes you just have to cry alone in a parking lot and listen to the rain on the roof of your truck. Sometimes you just have to pull yourself together and remind yourself that cowgirls don’t cry…. But we do. A lot. 💔
I know I keep going back to this topic but this time of year it hits me right in the gut. I’ve spent hours tracking down vintage decor from years gone by and every piece takes my breath away when I find it because the memories flood my whole world.
Gazing at the Christmas lights in our window and I picture that holly tree outside my childhood living room window and the single strand of Christmas lights my dad put up.
Every Christmas cookie transports me back to that little farmhouse kitchen. I’m right there warm from the roaring fire in the wood stove decorating gingerbread men with my mom. Coconut hair and smartie buttons every year. Those sugar cookies with the Nutty club green and red fancy sugar glisten in my mind. Mincemeat tarts and platters of cheese, garlic sausage with ritz crackers look so fancy in my memory.
Watching Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer in my pj’s on the living room floor. I think I can still feel that worn brown carpet if I close my eyes and try hard enough. That tiny living room felt huge when I was small. The worn tinsel garland hung ceiling corner to corner. Stockings thumb-tacked to that wood panel wall. Santa knew to use the front door because our chimney was certain death as we didn’t have a fireplace. I know Santa knew because big brother Earl assured me every year.
The coffee table always looked festive with a bowl of Christmas candy, a fancy starched dollie and our hobnail flocked poinsettia candle holder. It wasn’t much but oh how I looked forward to helping put those decorations out! The fresh cut tree in the corner was always too big for that room! Back then I didn’t know our home wasn’t fancy. I didn’t know it was too small. It was home and it was welcoming. It was lived in and Christmas made it feel even cozier.
It’s so magical I keep going back there in my dreams because nostalgia thankfully paints over the ugly parts when it comes to take you on a trip down that candy cane lane.
What I wouldn’t give to have one more Christmas in that old farmhouse. One more batch of cookies with Mom. One more trip to cut down a tree with Dad and one more reassuring conversation with my big brother that Santa won’t slide into the wood stove!
I’ll be home for Christmas if only in my dreams.
Three years ago today I held her hand as she left this world. I listened as she took her last breath. There hasn’t been a day since then that I haven’t thought about her. Her favourite things have become my favourite things because they remind me of her. I find myself buying things in the grocery store she bought. I find myself ordering the food she loved in restaurants. I buy myself the flowers and I eat the cake because of her. I try my hardest to bring Jacob happiness and give him little treats the way she did for me. I carry everything about her real deep in my chest.
When you’re pregnant people are quick to share advice and tips. When you have a new born everyone has a sure fire way to help you cope! When you reach the toddler years the other Mom’s are quick to share stories about what is working and what isn’t.
But what nobody talks about is how it’s going to feel when you realize your little isn’t little anymore. No one talks about the last time they rocked their little to sleep because the thing about last times is we generally don’t know it’s the last time.
No one tells you the sting of going from a moment of elation watching your 9 year old run in a touchdown to the utter gut punch moment of realizing your 9 year old is now big enough and strong enough to be excelling in a full contact sport.
No one tells you about the day their little strolled into the kitchen and got their own snack because they don’t need to rely on the grown ups for simple things anymore.
Nobody tells you.
Nobody talks about it.
We all experience it over and over tho. We take it in stride, We absorb it in quiet. We wipe away the tear that spilled out as we try to catch our breath. We endure it alone, in our way. But we don’t talk about it.
Nothing slows down ….. my baby moves faster everyday and tho he’s still right here he’s metaphorically miles away all the time. He’s finding his path, he’s finding his strength, he’s finding himself.
No one told me how to swallow the bittersweet taste of watching my only baby become a big kid.
No one told me that my proudest days of watching him succeed would come with nights laying awake wondering how it all went down so fast.
Time is betraying me while it simultaneously holds open doors of adventure, growth, and wisdom for Jacob. Time is stealing him from me and me from him.
Nobody talks about it because it’s life’s greatest hurt.
But there is something so soothing about the orange glow of a pumpkin. It doesn’t matter if it’s real or fake, there is solace and quiet peace in the glow.
It’s the glow of nostalgia. It’s the glow of rest. It’s the glow of acceptance that things are quieting down. It’s the glow that leads to regrowth.
There is something special about the Fall season. Something secret and restorative.
There is something calming about that glow and there is something beautiful in soaking it in whenever you need it!
to be memories for our kids. Once you’re a parent you are the ghost of your children’s future.
Leave them with amazing memories.
I’m a firm believer in the old saying “Everything happens for a reason.” A handful of years ago I found myself drawn to all things vintage Christmas and became very nostalgic for things that were part of my childhood Christmases. Of course given that I’m 41 a lot of those trinkets are no longer around. Tho certain things vividly stand out in my memory. The tinsil garlands that used to hang on our living room ceiling, the plastic holly candle ring that sat on the coffee table and my mothers purple mercury glass beaded cross. I remember her always putting it on the tree herself and it always had to go on last. This ornament brought her joy. Unfortunately when I was about 8/9 I remember it coming apart and being tucked away but never repaired. Since she died I found myself searching online for a beaded cross. This past week I stumbled on a lady selling a huge lot of vintage ornaments. I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask if I could purchase just the one. I told her my story and she agreed to sell it to me. I received it today with the sweetest note from the seller. While this isn’t my Mom’s exact ornament having this little piece brings me comfort. It’s a tangible reminder of Christmases past and it reminds me of her ❤️
When the tears fall without warning and the salty taste engulfs your entire being… When you quickly try to shoo those feelings away or stop those feelings in their tracks… Take a deep breath and just let them be for a minute. Those tears are likely unspoken words, long forgotten moments and just a little reminder of the life you’re living and the one(s) you’re grieving.
Remember there are no rules on being sad, no playbook for grief. No timeline. The reality of life is that one day you’re here and one day you’re not. Life is going to pass us all by one day at a time and our only job is live it. Live it in a way that brings you joy. Soak in whatever moments bring you happiness. Spend your hours with the people who make you feel. Yes the ones who make you feel!!! Feel content, safe, wild, alive! The ones who help make you feel like your best self! The ones who help bring out your passion, Those ones are the magic! You’re somebody’s magic and might not even know it!
Remember though you’re going to feel the hard feelings often enough. There is simply no escaping those either. Don’t waste too much time on trying to figure out what life is all about. I think if you’re busy focusing all your energy on finding the reason, trying to find the secret of life then you’re missing the journey. And friends… I think the secret to life is the journey.
As my Momma taught me… eat the cake! Sit down to drink your coffee and find reason to celebrate even the most mundane of Mondays!
Hello December, I’m filled with both excitement and a bit of sadness as we start this festive month. This morning I was excited to shower treats upon my baby and my fur baby! Jacob loved the things Elfonzo brought and Bandit was very intrigued by these boxes of treats first thing in the morning that we were all very excited to show her!! Treats before breakfast and gingerbread are currently her favourite parts of Christmas!! Jacob was excited when he noticed a Purdys Santa beside his lunch. The Purdys Santa is 100% something Mom did for me as a child on December First! December lost most of it’s magic last year when Grandma got sick and left us and I want to honor her memory and my memories of how hard she always tried to make Christmas special by doing my best to bring back the fun and magic of this special month. 🎄🎄🎄⛄️⛄️⛄️🤶🏻🎅
With Mother’s Day fast approaching and all the love and fun that comes with it there is also sadness. Sadness for those who have lost their Mom, for those who never knew their Mom, for those who long to be a Mom, for those who long to feel the way they did before they were a Mom. Sadness for those who experienced pain at the hands of the one they call(ed) Mom. For those Dad’s who also have to act as Mom. For those Mom’s that suffered loss and long to hold their babies one more time.
Motherhood changes a person. It made me both stronger and softer. It made me both ferocious and timid. It made me feel love in a way I didn’t know existed and it made me feel anger in ways I wish I didn’t know existed. Motherhood has made me feel both full of love and full of terror. It’s made me marvel at my ability and long for a taste of the freedom I once knew. Losing my own Momma recently has made face my own mortality. It’s made me see things I missed my entire life. It’s made me wish for 5 more minutes to tell her things I should of said years ago. It’s made me understand the demons she was fighting and see the fears she faced. I spent my whole life near her and only truly saw some things for what they were once she was gone.
Being a Mom is hard. Being a Mom is exhausting. Being a Mom means giving up part of who you are so you can help your kids be who they are. Being a Mom is an amazing journey. Losing your Mom is a journey of a different sort.
To all the Mom’s out there…. I see you. I walk beside you! I’m here to help hold you up. I’m here to tell you those feelings and frustrations are ok. To all those who lost their Mom…. I am you, I hold a membership card to that club we didn’t ask to join and I cry with you.
To all the Aunts, Grandmas, friends, sisters, Dads that help stand in for us Mommas when we are sick, tired, drained, broken, or when we just need a minute…. Thank you.
