Fifteen Long Years

January 20th marks fifteen years since the darkest day of my life.  I can only imagine a handful of things happening to me that would compete with this day.  On January 20th fifteen years ago, my mother died.  I have now lived longer without her than I have with her.  This day brought forth a downward spiral of dark days.  Left with a mother-sized hole in me, I proceeded to live my life as a self-destructive, self- loathing mess.  Thankfully, my mother taught me some important things about life that I eventually remembered, and I have been able to actually live, even though she is gone. 

Losing someone you love is probably the most devastating thing a person can go through.  As a young teenager, losing my mother compounded everything I was already struggling with, and added a heap the size of a mountain on top if it all.  I contemplated taking my own life, so I didn't have to live without her, but found I lacked the desire to die.  Instead, I tried desperately to forget, using any means necessary.  I partied.  I worked really hard in school.  I allowed people to use and abuse me because I was searching for something only my mother could give me - love, safety, security. 

But I don't need to write about all the things I went through as a grieving daughter.  I don't need to elaborate on the pain that ripped my soul in half.  I don't need  to tell you how dark my life became.  I can tell you that I am still alive.  I can also tell you that not only am I living and breathing, I am happy, healthy and thriving, because after I was finished forgetting, I began to remember my mother.  Even though I miss my mom every day, I remember that even when she was dying, she was so alive.  The day she died, we went to see her at the hospital, and my sister and I got each got to spend a moment alone with her.  It was surreal to me, and I don't think I actually realized it was the last time I would see her alive.  Even then, there was so much left in her.  She must be living on because there was too much left. 

Her last words to me were, "I'll love you forever, and take care of my flowers."  She had gotten many bouquets of flowers from friends and family, and the ever practical and humorous woman she was, her last words to me were both deeply moving and typically her.  The one thing that helps me to live is remembering just how much life she had, and I like to think that she passed that down to my sister and I.  I think we inherited her strength, tenacity and most of all, her capacity to love. 

God I miss her.