It's been one year since my mother died...

On November 5, 2013, my world shattered.  My precious mother died unexpectedly.

It's hard to explain just how wonderful my mother was. I have tried, feebly and inadequately, to verbalize her specialness.

I wrote this as part of a tribute to my mom in 2003:

My mother's walk with the Lord is also something I want to emulate. She is a real prayer warrior. I have so many memories of hearing her pray, and there have been times I have literally seemed to feel her prayers for me when I've been in dangerous or difficult situations. Call me mystical, but there is just something about a mother's prayers!

My mother has endured many trials in her life, and sometimes, I admit, I've questioned why this wonderful woman should be inflicted with so many circumstances that to me seem unfair and unjustified. But these trials have not broken her. Instead, she seems to grow stronger and more lovely with time.

My mom as a little girl

A tough year

In some ways, this has been the toughest year of my life.  God has given me many blessings this year, and I've appreciated every one of them.  But navigating an ocean of grief has been a difficult and burdensome task.

It's easy to just give in to it, just wallow in grief.  My siblings and I have said that at any given time, we are two seconds away from a grief meltdown.  The tears are always right there behind our eyes.

Our mother was such a central part of our lives, and we lost her so unexpectedly.  (She died of cardiac arrest, in her sleep...yes, a wonderful way to go, and for that we're grateful.)

Celebrating our mother

So today, we've decided not to wallow in our grief.  We are going to do our best to celebrate our mom!

Yes, we're going to lay flowers at her grave.  (Ironically, I'm not as sad at her graveside as I thought I would be.  I simply can't think of her being there at all.)

But, we're also going to have lunch at one of her favorite places.  And then...and this might sound a little funny, but so be it...we're all going to buy a new top.  Because one of her favorite things to do was to buy a new top!  So we're doing it in her honor.

My mom would have HATED us to spend this day crying and moaning about her loss.  She wouldn't have allowed it!  So we're going to honor her as best we can by celebrating the happy and wonderful things about her life.

With my siblings and my mom....our last Christmas with her

Live in peace and joy in heaven, Mommy.  We'll see you soon!

Gracefully Aging, Day 27: Losing a Parent

In a few days, I'll observe an anniversary I never wanted...the first anniversary of my mother's death.  Of course, people lose parents at every age.  My husband's mom died when he was 12 years old.  But as we age, it's only natural that our parents may precede us in death.

Three months after my mom died unexpectedly, I wrote the following.  I thought I would share it again here.


******************

On the evening of November 5, 2013, I got the phone call that forever changed my life.

It was my son Justin, calling from Texas where most of my family lives.

When I saw his picture on my phone, I expected a light-hearted chat.  But the first thing I heard sounded like some sort of static. I later realized it was the sound of him crying.

When he was finally able to speak, I heard the terrifying words, "I don't have any details, but Uncle David says Momo is unresponsive, and it isn't good."

That was a little over three months ago, and I'm still navigating an ocean of grief.

Sudden

The sudden death of a loved one is different from other deaths. I'm not saying it's worse, just different...in a bad way.

I don't discount or minimize the grief that lasts for years, seeing a loved one waste away slowly, perhaps in pain or not themselves. That's what happened with my dad. The loss is no less of a loss, and carries its own brand of heartache.

But the death of my mother...with no warning, no inkling other than that she was 80 years old and had high cholesterol...gobsmacked us.

 In my father's case, we were able to peruse hospice literature that readied us for the end. We were able to gather around him and say our final good-byes. We were as prepared as one can be for the death of a loved one--which, granted, is never prepared enough.

 But we were able to release him to heaven and not feel sucker-punched.

Peaceful

One thing we cling to is the apparent peacefulness of her death.  She laid down for her usual afternoon reading session that usually resulted in a nap. She had fallen asleep and died of cardiac arrest. No trauma, no pain...she simply went to sleep and woke up in heaven.

And yes, we are so thankful for that. We are completely cognizant of and grateful for the blessings...that she never suffered, didn't linger in the throes of a painful and debilitating disease. We rejoice that she's with my dad and all the loved ones that have gone on before.

But my mother...oh, my mother was amazing, wonderful, everything a mother should be. She was central to our existence. She was the hub around which we all gathered. She was the matriarch. Her unconditional love, her joy, her encouragement, her support, her smile, her faith, her grace--essential to our lives.

An ocean of grief

I said earlier that I'm navigating an ocean of grief.  Some days are relatively smooth and fair, others are stormy and tumultuous.  It's unchartered territory for me, because the pain is much more acute and shattering than was (and is) the grief for my beloved father.

We siblings ask, almost rhetorically, "When will this pain end?" "When will our grief settle down and become manageable?"

The truth is, on any given day, at any given moment, I could cry for my mother.

Sweet friends who have been through the same thing try to give us light at the end of the tunnel.  I look forward to a time where it won't be so raw, so painful to the touch, where tears will be few and far between.

I also look forward to the day that I'll see both my parents again.  If I didn't have this hope, this faith, I don't see how I could carry on at all. How do people do it who don't have this hope?

In the meantime...

I just miss my mommy.


Note: A year later, I'm still grieving, although the grief seems more manageable in many ways.  If you lose a parent and are haven't a hard time dealing with it, please be aware that most communities offer grief counseling groups that can be very helpful.  That may well be an option for you.

I'm participating in "31 Days: A Writing Challenge,"  in which I 'll be blogging on the subject of Gracefully Aging every day during the month of October.  Click the button below for more information and links to each post as they become available!

I miss my mommy. (A daughter's grief observed, three months on)

On the evening of November 5, 2013, I got the phone call that forever changed my life.

It was my son Justin, calling from Texas where most of my family lives.

When I saw his picture on my phone, I expected a light-hearted chat.  But the first thing I heard sounded like some sort of static. I later realized it was the sound of him crying.

When he was finally able to speak, I heard the terrifying words, "I don't have any details, but Uncle David says Momo is unresponsive, and it isn't good."

That was a little over three months ago, and I'm still navigating an ocean of grief.

Sudden

The sudden death of a loved one is different from other deaths. I'm not saying it's worse, just different...in a bad way.

I don't discount or minimize the grief that lasts for years, seeing a loved one waste away slowly, perhaps in pain or not themselves. That's what happened with my dad. The loss is no less of a loss, and carries its own brand of heartache.

But the death of my mother...with no warning, no inkling other than that she was 80 years old and had high cholesterol...gobsmacked us.

 In my father's case, we were able to peruse hospice literature that readied us for the end. We were able to gather around him and say our final good-byes. We were as prepared as one can be for the death of a loved one--which, granted, is never prepared enough.

 But we were able to release him to heaven and not feel sucker-punched.

Peaceful

One thing we cling to is the apparent peacefulness of her death.  She laid down for her usual afternoon reading session that usually resulted in a nap. She had fallen asleep and died of cardiac arrest. No trauma, no pain...she simply went to sleep and woke up in heaven.

And yes, we are so thankful for that. We are completely cognizant of and grateful for the blessings...that she never suffered, didn't linger in the throes of a painful and debilitating disease. We rejoice that she's with my dad and all the loved ones that have gone on before.

But my mother...oh, my mother was amazing, wonderful, everything a mother should be. She was central to our existence. She was the hub around which we all gathered. She was the matriarch. Her unconditional love, her joy, her encouragement, her support, her smile, her faith, her grace--essential to our lives.

An ocean of grief

I said earlier that I'm navigating an ocean of grief.  Some days are relatively smooth and fair, others are stormy and tumultuous.  It's unchartered territory for me, because the pain is much more acute and shattering than was (and is) the grief for my beloved father.

We siblings ask, almost rhetorically, "When will this pain end?" "When will our grief settle down and become manageable?"

The truth is, on any given day, at any given moment, I could cry for my mother.

Sweet friends who have been through the same thing try to give us light at the end of the tunnel.  I look forward to a time where it won't be so raw, so painful to the touch, where tears will be few and far between.

I also look forward to the day that I'll see both my parents again.  If I didn't have this hope, this faith, I don't see how I could carry on at all. How do people do it who don't have this hope?

In the meantime...

I just miss my mommy.

The Valley of the Shadow

Cynthia Anne Zarafonetis Garrett

July 9, 1933--November 5, 2013

On November 5th, shortly after 9 in the evening, I got a phone call that will forever change my life.  My precious mother had been found "unresponsive" and it wasn't good.  Shortly afterward, another phone call: "She's gone."

My mother wasn't just any mother--she was, simply, amazing.  Someday I will try to write more coherently and gracefully about her and all she meant to me.  Over 10 years ago, I wrote this tribute to her that makes an attempt at verbalizing the awesomeness that was my mother, but I don't know if it even came close.

On the night she died, I put this on Facebook:

I am devastated. My precious, beautiful mother, Cynthia Garrett, went home to be with the Lord this evening. She simply laid down as if for a nap, and never woke up. I talked to her just this morning and she was cheerful and happy and so alive. I'm so happy for her...she's with my dad, many of her friends and loved ones and her Saviour...but there's a hole in my heart that won't mend until I see her again. 

God has been very real and precious to my family and me in this time of grieving.  We are still able to smile and laugh in the midst of our tears.  We know we'll see her again someday.