The bittersweet of it


Gerry and Mom

Facebook is a humbling experience for me. At my fingertips and mouse clicks, I have curated a series of moments of joy, sadness, gratefulness, spite, anger, and sheer heartbreak. It is an amazing feat.  Post after post, even when it is just a simple sharing of another article, there’s a momentary connection with someone.

My mother and her partner died 20 years ago.  I’ve long accepted her death, but I’ve never accepted that her spirit is gone.  I’ve never accepted that this aura of my mom is just “poof, gone”.  I’m humbled when in the moments when I think she would have enjoyed seeing what the world is today.  

Twenty is a big number.  Two decades.  Twenty years ago,  I was fresh out of high school, just into college.  All the things I’ve seen and done in the years since, I’m thankful I don’t have to explain. I continue to have my entire future to decide on whether or not that is a good thing. 

For those of us who have lost their mothers, and they’ve been told the pain never goes away, it just gets easier to deal with.  Twenty years, and if I’m having an off day…my tears can still run as if I’ve just been told of her passing moments ago. It isn’t pain that I feel, I feel the loss, a missed opportunity to have something I might have wanted. 

My mom was a hot mess, but she was the hot mess for three kids. She was our hot mess. 

Sometimes these blog entries get personal.  I’ve long since been good with that, mostly because I’ve already been comforted by others, having been told they feel the loss as well.  No use in hiding the emotion in the loss that I feel.


Circling back to Facebook. Through my updates, pictures, posts by others, I see how life is just amazing.  Watching Alex and Iolani hike (and going back to the pictures at the end of the day), Troop meetings, REI trips, ground breakings, construction updates…here is the testament on how to move forward, but not necessary moving on.

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