Today marks four years since my mom passed away. While I no longer have those moments of unexpected tears—like when making the bed or strolling through the grocery store—I still instinctively reach for the phone to share a laugh. The house phone, to be precise. It’s funny how few people I actually chat with on it these days, yet here I am, still holding on to it. Even after 1,460 days, I’m not ready to let it go.
Each year, I’ve taken the time to reflect on the shifts in my life since her absence, often focusing on my children: their growth, their teenage antics, and how they unknowingly ground me in this unpredictable phase of life. Sometimes, I wonder how they would react if they knew just how much their presence has empowered me.
However, on this particular anniversary, what weighs most heavily on my heart is the change within me emotionally. My feelings and responses to the world around me have transformed drastically.
What Frustrates Me Now
What really frustrates me now? Friends who roll their eyes at their mothers’ quirks or the little annoyances that come with motherhood. I can’t help but feel irritated when they complain about quick visits or mention how they “have to” go see their moms for dinner or accompany them to appointments. They don’t grasp the depth of what I would give for just one more day.
And ironically, I’ve come to find happiness in how my mom’s life ended. She was only 69 when cancer struck swiftly, stealing her away within six months. Before her diagnosis, she was vibrant—stylish, humorous, and magnetic. Even in her sickness, she had a flair for fashion, sending me out to buy shoes and bags she never had the strength to use.
What brings me comfort is the image of her as a lively, fabulous woman. I never had to witness her frailty or watch her memory fade. She’ll always be my stylish mom, and that’s how I choose to remember her. I know I’m not alone in holding onto this sense of positivity after losing someone too soon, and I’m not ashamed of it.
What I Value Now
As for what I value now? Not much, honestly. My family is my priority, and we stay close because that’s what truly matters. Everything else—grudges, societal pressures, even daily drama—just doesn’t hold the same weight for me anymore. I often ask myself what the worst-case scenario could be, and I realize that whether a child decides not to pursue college or a spouse loses a job, it’s not the end of the world. In fact, it’s all quite trivial.
What truly matters is the joy of my children growing up and the memories they evoke. I wish my mom could see how incredible her grandkids have become, or the recent changes in my home decor. I miss her dearly, but the little moments—like when my youngest says, “This song reminds me of Nanny”—are what I hold close to my heart.
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In summary, my journey over the last four years without my mom has been one of profound change, emotional growth, and learning to cherish the little things in life.
Keyphrase: loss of a parent
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