On the morning of September 24th, 1986 my Mom did not get out of bed.
Although odd for her, I didn’t give it a moments pause until my little sister came crying from her room.
Telling us we needed to go back there.
I hope to never experience the challenge she faced that morning after learning my Dad’s cancer had taken him from us.
Him, fighting so hard.
Six oblivious kids.
Eyes on her.
Waiting.
The day before her birthday.
Seeing her in bed, wiping tears from her eyes was almost enough.
Until then I’d known nothing that could break her in such a way.
But we had to hear her say it.
Tell us he was never coming back.
Our lives forever changed in that moment.
How she pulled herself from that bed, I’ll never know.
Humans are incredible like that.
Incredible that we can push forward.
Incredible that we continue waking every morning.
Incredible that we allow ourselves to love again knowing full well the risk of loss involved.
Incredible, that a little girl could lose her Dad after just seven years of life with him and 26 years later still ache for him.
{ 23 comments… read them below or add one }
You know what, your mom has my mom’s birthday. Today is my oldest sister’s birthday. This year will mark our first year without mom on her birthday and I am dreading tomorrow. My sister spent the weekend in the hospital having emergency surgery to remove her gall bladder. Not a great week for either of us is it hun?? Tell your mom happy birthday from the daughter of another September 25 momma.
{{{Hugs}}}
Sending you love today.
I’m so sorry Kat. I can’t even imagine what this is like for you. As a mom, I’m sure you can understand how she managed to get out of bed, although it must’ve been so hard. Hugs! <3
We have no idea the depth of our strengths and capabilities until faced with something so heartbreaking, gut-wrenching and life altering. I have walked in your mom’s footsteps though I only have two children. Your mom is a strong woman. Incredible, indeed.
Sending you virtual hugs and warm thoughts today.
My heart is with you today.I too understand the gut wrenching sorrow of loss as my sister was murdered and instantly taken from us at age twelve.Its the anniversary today of her death as bow hunters found her little body shot twice in the head face down in a heavily wooded area.No goodbyes no last hugs no answers,just the image of her sweet face forever etched in my mind and on my heart.I understand your pain…….
It does amaze me, the strength and will of people I’ve met or read about. I hope to have that ability to keep going, to be propelled by some force that keeps me afloat. Thinking of your family today.
We think we can never do something like that, and then we realize: we have no choice.
What else can you do?
You are the mother.
Your mother’s strength, here: so evident in your few but powerful, carefully chosen words; brings tears to my eyes.
This is TRUE LIFE.
And so fragiley tragically beautiful.
Came back to tell you that this is staying with me today.
And I want to share it.
Will be highlighting it on my best finds of the week on the internet. Because this right here: has so much richness in it.
Thank you for doing that! So often I publish these and never look back, but I thought it was really sweet of you to share it on your site. :)
So very sad. Somethings happen that we will never understand. That’s the root of all my worry. I don’t want to experience pain like your mother and your family suffered. Your mother bravely did what she had to do — she really didn’t have much choice.
A beautiful post. Thinking of you today….
It must be that incredible love for those who depend on us that keeps us from falling apart, but I still can’t imagine the determination to just get out of bed.
I am thinking of your family today and hoping that you find comfort in each other.
I am glad that you wrote this.
This is so touching and heartbreaking. I don’t have very many words othere than that. Sending warm thoughts your way.
This was a beautiful post. I love these lines the most:
Humans are incredible like that.
Incredible that we can push forward.
Incredible that we continue waking every morning.
Incredible that we allow ourselves to love again knowing full well the risk of loss involved.
It’s so true… humans are amazing.
Sending you a little more love than usual today.
Many Many HUGS. I lost my mom to a heart attack when I was 18 and 3 weeks before I left for my freshman year away from home. It was rough. It has been 30 years since my mom left us and almost 20 since my dad left us right after my 29th birthday. It sucks and it still sucks at times.
When I met my husband and when I got married and when I had my girls, I felt the loss of not having them with me.
Your mom must have been incredibly strong to carry on with her 6 children along side her. She is a hero and your mother. You are blessed.
We all share 3 things in common. We are born, we live a life and then we pass on.
Hugs and Love
One of the only things that pulled me through when my dad died was watching my stepmother get up every day and just be. I lost my dad, which was unbearably hard. She lost her everything. I have no idea how you keep going from that.
That was beautiful and heartbreaking. Your mother must be a strong woman. I bet the love she had for you kids was the thing that kept her going despite such an agonizing loss.
I often wonder that too…how people keep on going after something earth-shattering has happened. I totally understand you aching for your Dad…I know my 7-year-old would always ache for his if this happened in our family. Thinking of you and your little 7-year-old heart.
A strong lady, your mom. I’m so sorry you lost a parent so young. I can’t imagine the ache your heart must have for him. This was so strongly written, it brought tears to my eyes. Warm thoughts to you and your whole family.
I cannot imagine how difficult losing your father must have been for all of you. Your mother is an amazing woman. Sending you HUGS on this difficult day.
I appreciate the simplicity of this piece. Beautifully written. The death of a parent requires years to process (process–such an inadequate and overly clinical word for my meaning). We feel the loss at every milestone for the rest of our lives. If only he could have seen this recital, walked me down the aisle, seen his grandchild. I’m sure he would be honored by this piece.