One Year Later

This week marks one year since the day my mom died. If you haven’t read some of my other posts, I will just briefly say that her life was cut short in a fatal automobile crash in early 2023. She was 65 years old. Gone far too early and left an unfillable hole in my life and the lives of many others.

The following are some feelings and thoughts one year later detailing what I’ve learned about life and myself. The grieving process has not been linear for me. I have asked more questions than I have received answers to and explored feelings previously left unchallenged.

I was hit with a realization of the fragility of life. A loved one can be here having dinner one day and gone forever the next. I don’t think I ever took my time or relationship with my mother for granted, but I have been more intentional about expressing my love and feelings to those close to me. I don’t want to leave strong thoughts left unsaid.

I have been fortunate to enter fatherhood this year and that has brought a new perspective as I begin to relate to my mom as a parent myself. My own childhood memories have been up for review as I work to figure out who I am as a dad. My values and inclinations are strongly influenced by those my mother represented and held dear. She parented with love, kindness, respect, and wisdom.

I have thought more about how to use my skills to help others. My mom was selfless and an advocate for those who needed a guiding hand. As a nurse, she humanized medical situations instead of medicalizing humans. I experienced this firsthand when I had acute appendicitis that required surgery. She managed the situation from start to finish. That was the first time I saw her in her element at work and I gained a respect for the contribution she clearly made to many patients lives at incredibly vulnerable times.

There’s so much more to say about the woman I called “ma.” I was an only child with a father who traveled a lot, so we spent a lot of quality time together. There were many car rides to sports practices, grocery stores, and hairdressers where we developed inside jokes or pondered the wonders of life. She supported my aspirations and activities and took an active role when needed. I knew my mom was a parent deserving of my respect, but also that she was my biggest ally.

It hurts to not be able to call her after a long day to commiserate or to share good news and hear about her latest project. I wish for another day at the kitchen island piecing together a jigsaw puzzle or teaming up to put dinner on the table for our family. I still feel like when I walk past the magnolia tree at the corner of her yard I’ll catch a glimpse of her on the front porch. I know she’s not there, but if she was she’d tell me to pull up a seat next to the dog and enjoy the setting sun. We shared many of these porch moments together over the last few years and I’m thankful for every one of them.

I love you, ma.

So long for now.

Felix