Mother's Day, Minus One

 

Originally posted May 11, 2021.

 

I anticipated that Mother's Day might be difficult since it would be the first one without Joy. I think I've been pretty good at preparing myself for these "firsts", which is maybe why people say the second year after a death is usually harder. It would make sense since every holiday or special day just after losing someone is a first. I would guess that people feel "safe" after they get past the first dreaded Christmas, Mother's Day, or summer vacation without someone they love. The second year must take a lot of people by surprise.

Mother's Day was low-key, which is the way I like most things. I don't think it was that much harder that Joy wasn't here - I miss her every day and Sunday was about the same. It was when my other kids made a point to say that Joy loved me and that she would have said she wouldn't want any other mother besides me; that's when I felt more emotional and my eyes and face got wet.

Grief is such a strange journey for me. It's a constant contradiction. On the one hand, it feels like she's so far away, but I can't quantify it. I can't calculate the number of miles that separate us because I assume that heaven is something like a different dimension rather than a number of miles straight up in the sky. Maybe it's like the opposite of the "upside down" on Stranger Things, where, instead of a place that mirrors home but brings horror at every corner, it's a place that seems like home to her but is completely perfect and wonderful.

On the other hand, it feels like hardly anything has changed. She's not here, but we're living our life in pretty much the same way, with many extra moments of remembering and laughing and weeping. But how could she not be close? She's a part of us. Or she could still be on this planet - which is closer than heaven - so, maybe just on the other side of the world, like when Hope lived in Ireland for a year. It was hard to comprehend that one of my children was so far out of my physical reach. But I still had the blessing and luxury of video-chatting, calling, texting, and sending photos and videos. I don't have that with Joy. I still want to text her or chat, or just have coffee and share intriguing celebrity or political gossip.

I know that I had the very fortunate blessing of having some closure with Joy before she died. We were on fairly good terms, having spoken about our recent arguments and both of our desire to talk through them. We said we loved each other. We hugged and I remember her smiling and seeming content before she went upstairs that fateful night, the last time I saw her alive.

Not everyone has that blessing, so maybe some of these days, these special moments are easier for me. I miss her every day and yes, the special days seem to highlight her absence, but we survived. I survived.

God is always giving me grace and holding me close. I know that's true for Joy as well. And I hope that's true for you, too.

 

Image: Joy and me in LA the summer of 2017.