Mother’s Day. Such a sweet celebration of the joys that mothers bring to their families. For me, a bittersweet celebration.
I remember Mom sacrificing, always giving of herself to not only me and my siblings, but all of the other family members, even friends. She loved. I remember her laughing, sometimes at the smallest of things, a childlike giddyness would take over and she was in fits. She lived. I remember her correcting me, teaching me what was good and productive, loving the Father and coaching me to do the same. She taught. I remember her working to give us the best she could, always looking for ways to accomplish some goal. She gave. I remember Mom being the one person that would allow me to be who I was – tears streaming, word & emotional vomit flowing – in times of frustration, pain or stress literally allowing me to crawl in to her arms if necessary and never judging me. She accepted.
Mom died a little over a year ago after a multi-year battle with suicide. During my sophomore year of college, Mom was diagnosed as having bipolar and borderline personality disorders. Couragesly she fought to win the war over her mind. Daily, hourly, breath-by-breath battles would rage within as her mind would betray her and she would have to fight to see Truth. She struggled. She fought. She won. For many years, she won. And then she was overcome by the grief, pain, fear and lies. In February 2009, in a split second decision, she took her own life. Esssentially, when her mom – a close, solid and caring ally for my mother – died the year before, so did Mom. From that day on, she had only been existing. There was no life, no joy, no spirit; just breathing. And, while my heart aches for her and wishes that I could hear her voice, listen to her laugh, rejoice in her singing and be comforted by her love & guidance, I know that she is finally at peace. Mom found freedom at last.
It has been a journey of pain, healing and sustainenance as I walk with the Father through the grief. Naively, I thought it would be a relatively “quick” journey. But, I am realizing that it will take more time, that I will most likely never get over a dull ache and that that is okay. She was a major part of my life, influencing and establishing the roots of who I am, grooming and directing me in to the woman I would become. How could I ever get over her? The Father has been so merciful, gracious and faithful throughout this healing process and I am grateful that my mother established the roots of faith deep within me so I could know that He is with me – and my family.
Mom knew of my desire to pursue the Race and, though fearful in ways, was supportive. I hope to “show” her that her life was not insignificant while, hopefully, bringing honor and glory to His Name. She obeyed His teachings – bringing us up under His commandments, loving us, encouraging us to pursue Him and His unique gifts to us, securing us in His protection and love – and now I have the humble opportunity to spread His love, joy and life to peoples throughout the world.
I love you, Mom. Always and forever.
