Dear Mom, Remember when you were alive and I was bitchy and ungrateful? Sorry. Love, Kim

Dear Mom,

It’s Mother’s Day here.  Which totally sucks because you’re there.  And I’m not even sure where “there” is.  I hope you are well, Mommy.  I also hope that, wherever you are, they have lilacs and strawberry shortcake and Coca Cola and grapes and babies and convertibles and sugar cookie dough and an unlimited supply of flowy gauze clothing.  When I imagine you, you have all your amazing silver hair and you are tan and you are draped in Marguerite jewels and are wearing some gauzey white stuff.  And you are smiling.  Which makes me smile, and also cry.

I’ve done a TON of crying today.  Mostly about how much I miss you and how much I miss my little sweet pea, Austin.  But also because FUCKING WORDPRESS JUST DELETED THE POST I WORKED ON ALL DAMN DAY.  I know you hate it when I cuss on my blog, but it was a good post, Mom.  If you’re really an Angel or whatever, then you probably know how good it was, because you were watching/listening to me write it and sob uncontrollably.

Anyway.

I can’t rewrite the entire damn post now — it would take forever and I can’t really remember everything I wrote.  I’m really starting to worry about my memory.  Did anyone in our family have early onset dementia or Alzheimer’s?  File that under “Things I Wish I Had Asked You When You Were Alive”….  Along with “Where the fuck is the septic tank at this house?” and “Where are the replacement bulbs for those fancy lights in the kitchen?” and other important stuff.  You wouldn’t believe how often I find myself thinking “OMG I have to call Mom and tell her about this right now!” or “I will have to ask Mom about this…..”  Another memory issue, I guess.  I forget that you’re dead and I’m stuck here without you.  Or mostly without you, depending on whether you’re an angel or whatever.

So.

I miss you.  That is mainly what I want to say today.  I miss you.  I miss you.  I miss you.  I even kind of miss the things that used to drive me NUTS about you — like how you used to eat, like, half of a grape and then put the other half in plastic and then back in the refrigerator.  And how you would always just throw food in the garbage disposal and then not run it….  And how you used to constantly eat corn nuts or do something loud with your hands  — like empty the ice trays or drill a hole in some concrete — while we were trying to talk on the phone  and then you would be all “What?  I can’t hear you?” and I would be all “STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING MOM!” and you would finally stop and then be all “Oh.  Well that’s better, isn’t it!”

(You know what I don’t miss, Mom?  The way you used to put your bare feet all over my dashboard.  That was gross :))

I love this picture of us — partly because it was probably the last fun day that we had together and partly because that is how you always used to hold me when I needed to cry.  You would pull me close and put your arm around me and play with my hair and tell me that no matter what awful thing was happening, it was all going to be okay.  I remember that when I was little  I used to fall apart every time I came home from a long visit with Dad.  I don’t know if I was sad to be leaving Dad or happy/relieved to be home with you, probably both.  Anyway.  You never asked me to explain, you just held me like that until I was done.  And I remember the day that we were sitting on your kitchen floor surrounded by debris from some home improvement project you were working on and we were talking and I finally realized that my marriage was over.  I was so ashamed and so sad and so scared and you crawled over all the crap on the floor and held me and stroked my hair until I couldn’t cry anymore.  You told me that it was going to be okay and that you would be with me and that Austin would survive.  And you were right, Mom.  Eventually it was okay.  And because you were there for all of us, Austin was okay too.  Thank you, Mom.  I don’t know if I ever told you how much that meant to me or how much I appreciated all the times you took such good care of Austin when his Dad and I couldn’t.

I wish you were here to hold me like that now, Mom.  It’s hard to be here without you.

Anyway.

Remember when you were alive and I was sometimes bitchy and ungrateful?  You were probably thinking “Oh, she’s really going to regret this shit when I die, just watch!” and you know what?  You were right.  YOU WERE RIGHT, MOM.  There, I said it out loud.  I hate that I was ever bitchy to you, especially when you were sick.  I hate that I took so many things for granted, Mom.  I hate that I didn’t thank you for every single thing you did for me before you died.  I’m so, so sorry.  I know that you already know all this, I just wanted to say it out loud.  I’m sorry.  And I love you, mamacita.  And I miss you.  And Happy Mother’s Day.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

kimmy

p.s.  this is really just between me and my mom, so it feels a little weird sharing it, but WTF, i share everything else with you guys.

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11 Comments

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11 responses to “Dear Mom, Remember when you were alive and I was bitchy and ungrateful? Sorry. Love, Kim

  1. Sue T

    Sigh (hands on heart).
    Hugs if you want them, even though they’re not from the right person.
    Thank you for sharing this wonderful picture and these stories about your Mom.
    Thank you for helping me remember mine.
    xoxoxo

  2. Loved this – true, straight, sad and hopefully healing. God bless!

  3. Happy Mother’s Day, Kim.

  4. What a Mother’s Day gift to your mom, Kim. Know she’s so proud of the strides you’ve made in your writing. She’s never left you… she lives on in you. And we all miss you!

  5. irene

    “Then, several years following my mother’s death, I attended a luncheon for Motherless daughters on the day before Mother’s Day.
    There was a guest speaker who spoke about the origin of Mother’s Day. She explained that Mother’s day was actually created by a woman who, a year after her mother died, had a huge memorial/celebration in honor of her mother’s life. That was the first Mother’s Day.Learning this shifted everything for me. From that point forward I have always seen Mother’s Day as an awesome day where I get to celebrate my mother’s life. Of course, now that I have children of my own, Mother’s Day has taken on other new meaning for me as well.
    Today, as I was reflecting back on the memory of my mother, I was thinking about how her passion for . . . was part of her legacy that has been passed down to me… and how has now become part of my legacy.”

    I read this the other day and thought of you Kim!
    (Happy belated mother’s day)
    love you,
    Irene
    xoxo

  6. The last time my mother sat up at the table to share a meal with us, I ragged on her for forcing herself to eat (eating caused pain, and she was only attempting it to please her mom). She was essentially unconscious after that meal until she died. Yeah, I wish I had just kept my mouth shut. Yeah, I regret being a nagging bitch during her last meal on earth. Thanks for the post!

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