Just a warning - this post is going to be really depressing, heartbreaking, and it just might make you cry.

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Today is my mother's 2 year death anniversary.

I remember when she first passed away, the VP at work in a rare candid moment told me that her mother died almost a decade ago, and there wasn't a day that had passed that she didn't think of her.

I never knew how true that would be.

It's not one of those things that seem like it was just yesterday. Sometimes it seems like it wasn't long ago, sometimes it seems like it was so far away. Life as I know it has changed so much in these past two years. Sometimes I even find myself forgetting some aspects of her. People have moved on with their lives, people keep on living. It's weird in some ways, sometimes I wonder how often she comes across their minds, too.

The depth of emotion I feel differs. Sometimes its a casual thought, something that reminds me of her, sometimes its much deeper and darker than that, nearing the deep darkness of the times right after she passed away.

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I know this whole pregnancy is supposed to be a joyous thing, and believe me, it has been. There has been enough happiness to go around with the coming of this baby. There's been nothing more I've wanted for a while.

But in a small way, it's bittersweet.

Because I want my mother here, to be here with me through this.

It's a selfish thought and any rational person would say, "Yes, but she's watching from Heaven!"

Yes, I know, but it's not the same thing.

I have been blessed to be surrounded by friends and family who have been through this whole pregnancy thing, so there is a wealth of information out there and people who are happy to give me advice. From my friends to my cousin to my mother in law, there are people out there who have been helping me. But the one person who I would really have loved to be here, to answer my questions about my own birth, what it was like for her, what things I might run into isn't here. I've asked my dad, but really, how much does the husband really know about what their wives have gone through? That, and I don't want to trouble him by making it obvious that she isn't here to witness the birth of her first grandchild.

I can't relay to you how much I feel that I need her right now. It would be such a comfort to me to have her around, to show me the ropes, to share with me her stories of when she was pregnant with me.

I sometimes imagine what it would be like if she was still alive. When I'd tell her, she's be so happy she'd cry. She would say that she's so proud of me, and that has been waiting FOREVER to be a grandmother. She'd touch my belly and talk her baby talk to it. She'd give me tons of advice, maybe little stories about her pregnancies, things to watch out for. Then she would nag me to tears about taking care of myself - eating vegetables, not eating junk, getting exercise. She would laugh and say "How did I get a crazy daughter" when I told her about my grand pregnancy schemes and the various psychological experiments I'm planning on putting my child through. I would ask her to give me a play by play of each child she gave birth to, and pressure her to tell me which one of her daughters was the cutest child, not giving up until she relented and said it was me.

But I know she's not here, and she's watching me from up above.

The selfish, childish part of me really wishes she was here, though. There are times, when I'm so tired I'm lying in bed and I can't get to sleep, that I think of her. I normally end up crying, and the extent of that cry depends on how deeply I let myself fall into my sadness. I miss her so much, and I never had time to really let her know how much she meant to me.

Rest in peace, Mommy.

I love you.

Posted by Yano at November 22, 2005 07:26 AM

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