It's true. Everyone has one. A story that is. I don't think that my mom's death defines who I am, but it definitely plays a part. So many people have said "it's been how many years and you're still not over it?", "she's watching you from up above", "you know she loves you and would want you to move on". I could continue, but then that would take up so much space. I don't think people really understand the hurt and longing for ones mother until they experience it. Yes, it has been 12 years, but it doesn't mean I miss her any less. If anything, I miss her more. So much has happened since her death. So many good things. So many wonderful things that I wish I could talk to her about, laugh about and cry about with her. Please save the "she's watching...she knows" line. That's great but who wouldn't want the real thing? Honestly, I don't think it's the actual "day" that saddens me. It's the day before. I think about sitting in her hospital room alone with her, holding her hand and in between tears and sobs telling her that it was ok for her to go...to die...and she did a few hours later.
My biggest secret that I carry with me is that I get so jealous when I see other children (mostly those that are my age) with their mothers. The other half of that secret is I can't stand when I hear them say how annoying their mothers are and that they get on their nerves. I would give anything for my mother to "get on my nerves" again.
As time goes on, I learn to "deal" with it. I go about my days and think of her often during them. I often cry for her when something profound happens in my life and I cry every time I see her in a dream. I look in my sons eyes and get lost in the beautiful blue that they are, just like my mom's. I think about all of the fun "motherly" things she did with me and my brother. Dressing us up in homemade Halloween costumes because we couldn't afford store bought ones, taking a drive just to get away, mother/daughter days of laughing and tickling. I adored our days in Harpers Ferry WV and the long walks we took over the historic land and then ended our day with ice cream. I loved to sit and watch her put on her makeup in the morning and pull back her long auburn hair in a pony tail. I miss the way my hands felt in hers and the way she smelled. I have kept a bottle of perfume for the last 12 years. It is one that she wore all of the time. Sometimes I open it to "smell her" and surprisingly after all this time, it still smells exactly the same. I know that may seem a little odd, but it helps somehow.
I hope that I am half of the mother that she was.
|because she loved them|
|my mom with my great grandfather|
|Our homemade costumes. We were cabbage patch kids!|
|Kimberly Lorene Fink|
August 16, 1962- August 3, 1998