Death.  That hideous word.  We try to make it sound better by using the phrase “passed away,” but it’s still death.  It can’t be sugar-coated or glossed over.  It is sad and final.



My sweet mother-in-law, Martha, died over Christmas break this year.  We are all still reeling from this loss.  It was unexpected and the joy of the holiday season came to a screeching halt when she entered the hospital with pneumonia.  She never recovered.  What was to be a meaningful Christmas with our son home from Georgia and being reunited again to celebrate the birth of our Savior, instead became a trip to Boston to pay our final respects and lay Martha to rest.  Boom.  It hit us like a ton of bricks.  Grief, sadness, and shock.

The loss of a loved one is never easy, but there is something, in particular, about the death of a mother that is hard to put into words because it is hellish, plain and simple.  I lost my own mother when I was only 19 years of age.  Two years later, Martha came into my life when I started dating her son and there was an instant connection.  She stepped into the role as my new mom.  In fact, I started calling her mom even before Peter and I were married.  She never liked the “in-law” part, so she always just called me her daughter and I loved it.  She made me feel loved, seen, taken care of, and wanted.  Martha welcomed me into her life day one and for over 30 years, she never waivered in being there for me in ways I needed since being motherless at such a young age.  She was a hands-on grandmother to our kids even though living across the country from us.  She was a gift.

It has been 17 days since Martha’s passing and the grief ebbs and flows.  It hits in moments least expected.  I forget she is gone and then reality sets in again.  I am confused, listless, sorrowful, and not all with it.  I got out of the shower the other day and realized I had forgotten to wash my hair.  It was still dry when I stepped out to grab my towel.  I wore a pair of underwear backwards for a whole day and didn’t even realize it until evening time.  I left my keys in our front door lock overnight.  It only registered when I was scurrying around trying to locate them as I was leaving to drive my daughter to school.  I am walking around in a fog.  I am living, but in a different realm.  I sleep a lot and don’t want to socialize.  I just want to sit and be sad.  And, I am okay with that. 

Martha was a wonderful woman, and I think that warrants a pause.  A pause to remember all she has done for me.  A moment or more of being still and honoring her, and what a hole that has been left in our hearts in her absence.  So often we feel that we have to get on with life.  We have to move on right away.  But, do we?  Why?  Why not feel all the feels?  Why not spend time in reflection?  Don’t our loved ones deserve that?  Don’t our hearts deserve that? 

I cry when the tears come and don’t hold it in.  I get angry.  I get sad.  But, then, I also have moments of joy and thankfulness that I had so many years gifted to me by this human being that God placed in my life.  I only had 19 short years with my own mother, but I have to be ever so grateful for those years and not want for more.  I had over 30 years with Martha and that is a blessing in itself.  Yes, I would have loved more time with them, but I had time with them.  Period.  I can’t be greedy in that, only thankful.  God gave me two wonderful mothers in my lifetime.  Some people never even have one.

As a mother myself, this loss has given me new perspective.  This was my children’s first big loss in their lives.  Their grandmother was an integral part of their upbringing.  They spoke weekly, received cards from her often with a few dollars tucked inside just because, and so many “I am proud of you” and “I love you” phrases showered over them from her since they were born.  It was the first time participating in a funeral and feeling this kind of grief.  Watching their father say goodbye to his mother was difficult, and I believe it has made them think about the time when they, too, must say goodbye to their own mother. 

It gives me pause to think about my own legacy that I want to leave behind for them.  These hit-home moments are a wake-up call for us.  It allows us to realize that life is short and to get busy in using our time here on earth wisely.  No one knows how many days we are given, so why waste them?  Why wait to tell those we love how much they mean to us?  Make that call.  Write that letter.  Go visit them face-to-face.

As mothers, we play such a vital role in how our children view the world, family, faith, and life, in general.  It’s important to love them fiercely so that when we are gone, that love carries them through.  Pray for them endlessly.  Take them to church and show them God.  They have a purpose and as mothers, we are blessed that He chose us to be their parent.  He hand-picked us for them.  It is not a job to be taken lightly.  We may have only a few days with them or a few decades with our children building a life, a home, a legacy.  May that legacy be one of hope, happiness, growth, purpose, faith and most importantly, love. 

As I write this, I am full of so many emotions.  Grief is beautiful because it means we have experienced love.  To feel this bad shows that there was once good.  And, there will be good again.  But, for now, I mourn.  I mourn what once was.  I mourn what I can’t get back.  The way I process is to put pen to paper.  Writing this has made me exhausted, so I climb back into bed now and lay in my sorrow.  I feel the heartache and heaviness of misery.  At some point, I will take down my Christmas decorations, but not today.  Today, I grieve the passing of a mother.