She’s Gone

I have lots of favorite days every year.

Rachel’s birthday, my first Drunk Day during summer break, 46118 Christmas… Those are all beautiful days for me every year.

Today is always the worst.

My mom died on October 1, 2005.

Rachel and I bought a car that day. It’s the first and only new car either of us have ever owned. We drove to my parents’ house where Rachel, my dad and I talked about the car, discussed the first six weeks of my new life as a high school teacher and had as normal a conversation as is possible when someone is dying of cancer in the big bedroom.

Dad and I spent part of the afternoon in that bedroom talking about our plans for the next stage of Mom’s care. We came to some helpful decisions and made sure Mom was warm; we shared lots of laughs and more than a handful of tears and rubbed Mom’s feet and arms; we talked about how well we could continue making good choices for her and discussed how we could take care of each other.

A couple hours after I left, Dad called to tell me Mom was dead.

My initial thought was confusion; I didn’t know what he meant. When he repeated himself (Even now I am sooo sorry I asked him to say it a second time…), I squealed. I groaned. I uttered a primal, urgent sound that I’ve never heard before or since. It was the sound of my soul being sucked out of my body.

Apparently I was on autopilot as I started driving back to Mills Road. I sped like I believed I could somehow manage to hold on to something of my mother if I just arrived quickly enough.

The last thing I clearly remember from that entire day was thinking how mad Mom would be if I killed myself driving recklessly on 465.

I think I slowed down.

In these fifteen years since, I’ve lived a wonderful life. I have been blessed beyond measure by gifts of love I didn’t quite know existed before they came into my life. And even the heartbreaks of continued living have reminded me how much I continue to love the people in my life. Those in the present and in the past.

And every single day, I miss my mommy.

Today is always the worst.

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