Until we meet again...

Monday, October 2, 2017 was to be like any other Monday. Go to work, come home, make dinner and tackle whatever the day may bring in between. However, that Monday would turn out to be nothing like a regular day. During the night I learned of the horrific shooting in Las Vegas. Many killed and many more wounded. As daylight entered, the news stirred with assumptions, facts and conclusions. But still, it was just another Monday for me. Time to get dressed and go to the office. Went to work, got a few things done and headed home. When I got home Chris was busy getting ready to run an errand. While chatting with Chris and reading social media,  I learned of Tom Petty's cardiac arrest and (at the time) his death. Shock and disbelief that such an icon was gone overcame me. My childhood musical favorites are slowly leaving us. Yet, once more, it was still just another Monday. Until...

At approximately 4pm I received a phone call I will never forget. That phone call would make all of the sadness and tragedy in the world pale in comparison to the emotions I was about to experience. My daddy called and said to me "your mother has died." Wait, not my mother. Surely he was mistaken, confused or pulling a terrible prank. My mother is only 66 years old. She's to young to pass. He has to be wrong. I jumped in the car and raced to their house. Hoping above all hope that this gut wrenching news was not true. However, as I topped the hill to their home and rounded the corner, I saw two emergency personnel standing in their front yard. I knew by the look on their faces that the unthinkable had happened. I rushed into the house to find my sobbing father standing in the kitchen with a police officer. Daddy pointed towards his bedroom. I immediately walked in to see another member of emergency personnel standing by the bed with the most somber of expressions. Then, I looked. There she laid, motionless and quiet. She appeared to simply be in a deep restful sleep. At the same time, she looked so small and frail. Indeed, the woman who had birthed and raised me was gone.

Unless you have experienced the loss of a parent, I cannot express in words the thoughts that race through your mind in a millisecond. As I stroked her hair, my entire life with her flashed before my eyes. Every single emotion I had ever felt for or with my mother was occurring at once. Then, I guess out of emotional self-defense I simply went numb. Survival mode kicked in and I began to make phone calls. First to Chris, then to my girls and afterward to family and friends. The rolodex in my head was spinning with "who do I need to call?" It is the most surreal thing to say the words "mother has passed away." How do I comfort the person on the other end of that call when I don't exactly know what I'm feeling myself?

The last few days have been a blur. Friends and family have rallied and been wonderful. But life has to get back to some type of normal. A new normal. In the days ahead there will be all the "firsts." Thanksgiving, her birthday in December, Christmas, Mother's Day and every single one will be a little less bright without her. 

My mother was a force of nature. She was always the center of attention in a crowd. She was a fantastic cook, kept an immaculate house and would give you the shirt off her back. She was demanding and critical but she loved with every ounce of her soul. She could tell you off and tell you she loved you in the same conversation. She was strong-willed and pushed everyone around her to be a better version of themself. She loved music and was always singing. She loved people.

Now, it seems I find the most comfort and peace sitting at her grave. Strange as it may sound, I feel close to her there. I know she's in heaven where there is no pain, suffering or sadness. I also know I will see her there one day.  But, for now, I have to find a way to live in a world that is a little less without her. 

Until we meet again...Mother, I love you, 

Your sweet baby girl