If there is anything I've learned about grief, is that it's not linear.
Days, weeks and now years pass by. People say time heals, I think they mean you adapt. I'm not certain it is easier. I still long daily to call my mom, to share the latest baby milestone that only a mother could appreciate, to tell her a funny story, to ask about how to make that spanish casserole we always enjoyed. To hear her advice, or simply to get that reassuring voice on the phone, "Hi sweetie" she'd say, and somehow the day would be easier, because the one you always went to when you needed something was there. Just her listening to you tell your story lightened your load.
I'm learning to adapt, to not crumble at parties, showers and big celebrations when people introduce me to 'their mother'. Sometimes those words make my throat tight and my knees wobbly, but I'm learning to hide it. To simply smile and embrace the moment they are having together as something they may not completely grasp for years to come. The simple times together and the huge grand celebrations together. Because I think I began grieving parts of our relationship for years before she passed. I think she did, too. It was a funny unspoken understanding between us. I described our daughters nursery in great detail because she could no longer climb stairs to see how I placed everything just so and she poured her love over in words because she was unable to lift and hold and rock my first baby girl how she longed to. And we both sighed inside at the way we thought (and prayed) it would be different.
I share because it helps me, to move forward, to understand, to get out what I'm feeling. And perhaps learn that I'm not alone.
And I'm learning, there is nothing linear about the heart. It feels and remembers on it's own time. These pings on my heart are reminders of cherished times and glimpses of the true importance of life. Each-other.
My hippie mama, I love you so. And each day I'm a mother I am more aware of your love for me. What a beautiful gift that is.