By JANET HART LEONARD
From the Heart
“It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds’ … the wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.”
– Rose Kennedy
It is the week I have been dreading. The week before Mother’s Day. This will be my first Mother’s Day without my mother.
On Monday, after we got home from Tampa, I went to Crownland Cemetery to check on the flowers I had placed on the gravestone. As my car got near the area where my parents are buried, I saw that Dec. 17th, 2020 had been etched into the gravestone under my mother’s birthday and her name.
For some reason this hit my heart, hard. Tears slipped down my cheeks. This made things even more real. Not sure why. Grief asks questions that cannot be answered.
I went into the grocery store and was on my way to the checkout and saw the row of Mother’s Day cars. I quickly passed by that aisle. I swallowed hard.
Could this week just hurry up and be over?
People are so kind to ask me how I am doing. Honestly, I think I am doing well. I had my mother for over 65 years. We shared great memories. We loved each other well. Not everyone has that kind of love. I was blessed.
But I have my moments. I think I always will.
They say that grief is love with no place to go. It is true.
I am doing well, and then I see a video of my mom. She is singing or laughing or telling one of her stories. I am reminded of the love we shared and the tears fall, ever so gently, down my cheeks.
I miss her alto voice. I miss her laugh. I miss her telling stories. I miss her telling me what to do.
I cannot tell you how many times I have picked up the phone … and then set it down. I find myself calling my two aunts, Mac and Nell. They sound just like my mom. And yes, they tell me what to do … and we laugh, just like I did with my mom.
Grief is sneaky and confusing and overwhelming at times. You tuck it away only to find it sneaking out at the strangest times. I avoid the aisle in the grocery where they keep the pork rinds. Mom loved her pork rinds. Tears on aisle 5.
The thing that makes it easier is that we had time to tell each other … “I’ll see you later.” We sang hymns. We recited Psalms 23. We prayed. We did a lot of “remember when?” All this made her journey to heaven ever so sweet.
I tell people that I loved her into the arms of Jesus.
I made a promise to keep flowers on her grave. I will keep that promise.
There are days that I feel that empty place in my heart will never quit aching. It probably won’t. As Rose Kennedy said, the pain will just lessen.
Isn’t that what a life well-lived and well-loved does? It leaves a place in our heart that never completely heals but will always be a reminder that we were loved.
As I look at the sand at the bottom of the hour glass, I miss the sand that was in the top. It’s empty now. Oh, the sweetness of that sand.
I sure did love that sweet lady who loved me well. Yes, grief is hard. Another first will soon be here and gone. These firsts are hard.