It’s been over 10 months since my mom died. Longtime readers may recall when my column was called Sandwiched, as I spent many years in the sandwich generation taking care of both my family and my mother. She passed away at age 89 on April 4, 2022.
Chances are, if you’re an empty nester, one or both of your parents are gone. It’s one of the hardest things in life – hard for you, and hard for your children, as most likely those were the first moments when they grieved.
It had been a long time since I’ve grieved the loss of someone close to me. After Mom died, I figured I had to brace myself for overwhelming sadness at every holiday and big event. And, two weeks later when we celebrated Easter, I was in tears that afternoon thinking about how we would have visited her and brought her a meal.
Mother’s Day and Mom’s birthday, which soon followed, were also difficult. I dreaded Thanksgiving and Christmas. However, I got through the holidays remarkably well. I thought about Mom, certainly, but I didn’t dissolve into tears on either day.
I’ve discovered that, at least for me, it’s not necessarily the big moments that make you ache as the months go on when you lose someone. It’s often the little things that come out of left field.
Just over a month ago, I was relaxing one Thursday evening after volunteering at Agape in Cicero. My husband John and I were having a delightful chat while we listened to classical music on our speaker. Soon we heard the sweet strains of “Ave Maria.”
I hadn’t heard it since a woman sang it at Mom’s funeral as the sun finally made its appearance through the church’s stained-glass windows. It was one of the most beautiful, heartbreaking moments of my life.
Soon I was sobbing. John instantly knew what was wrong and held me on the couch as the tears fell.
I’ve also seen the blurbs online about McDonald’s offering their Shamrock Shake starting this coming Monday. I can’t stop the lump in my throat whenever I see this. Getting a Shamrock Shake with Mom was one of our favorite traditions.
Just last year, when I brought one to her a few weeks before she died, her face lit up and she exclaimed, “I LOVE these!” Little Miss Sweet Tooth was delighted. I’m so glad we got to have that special time before she passed away.
I’ve learned to accept that these little moments are going to be a part of life. The ones that remind me of my father still hit me hard. He died 29 years ago.
As difficult as those reminders are, I wouldn’t stop them for anything. I firmly believe that the ones we love who have passed on are still with us in some way. I’d rather have my tender heart awakened with love and sadness once in a while to help me always remember them, then to not experience the sadness.
I may even enjoy a Shamrock Shake, look up to heaven, and smile through my tears on Monday.