13 Things I Miss About My Mom

13 Things I Miss About My Mom

It’s been over 10 years since my 48 year old mother passed away. I will never fully comprehend the fact that she is not coming back, and I will never fully understand how I have survived this long without her.

This beast they call cancer, which took my mother, is the same beast that has torn my family apart, the same beast that has changed my entire world and turned my life upside down.

Grief has taken so much from me. It has drained me mentally and emotionally but I have managed a way to smile through the sadness, laugh through the heartache, and I have found a way to live creatively with my bruised and broken heart.

As I slowly got back into what I call my new life or “my new normal”, I can’t help but miss all the things about my mom that I once considered little things.

Here are the 13 things I miss the most about my mom.

I miss her laugh. My mom was always laughing about something, but there are moments I remember, little inside jokes between her and I, and when I think of them I can hear her uncontrollable laugh. I would give anything to have one last laugh with her.

I miss her spaghetti and meat balls, I miss her homemade chicken soup, and I miss her telling me I eat way too fast. My mom made the best spaghetti and meatballs.  Even after having chemotherapy she would be sure to have that homemade meal on the table for us all every Sunday. She would always tell me that I eat way to fast and if I didn’t slow down I would choke. I always got a kick out of her saying that.

I miss her calling me way too much. I don’t think a day went by that I didn’t talk to my mom at least 5 times a day. Sometimes she would call a little too much, but it’s funny how one day when the phone stops ringing, you’d give up your whole life to hear it ring again.

I miss how much she worried about me. I was 24 when my mom passed away. She worried about me every second of every day. And I am certain that no matter what my age she would have continued to carry that same worry.

I miss her hand on my forehead when I said I wasn’t feeling well.  The minute I would say I didn’t feel well my mom would take the back of her hand and place it on my forehead to check if I had a fever. I miss her touch and I miss the way she took care of me.

I miss playing “name that tune” when we were in the car together. We would put the radio on scan and let it go, the first one to scream out the correct song and artist would get a point. We both loved music and loved that game.

I miss her missing me. When I moved out on my own she would always try to get me to come over even if she had to bribe me, she always wanted me and my sister at her house and nothing made her happier than our family all together.

I miss her raspy voice. Just like mine. I have one voicemail with her voice on it and as hard as it is for me to listen to I sometimes force myself to simply because I don’t ever want to forget the sound of her voice.

I miss her horrible spelling and grammar. She was the worst with spelling and grammar but it was so incredibly cute. She would always post positive things on Facebook (which so many people loved) half of the time the spelling was way off but the message of positivity was so clear and I loved that.

I miss her passion for the people she loved. All my mom ever wanted in life was to spend as much time with her family and close friends as possible. She was so simple. Cancer robbed her from it all but the love she has for all of us was enough for a lifetime.

I miss her beautiful photography.  She took some beautiful photos as she was in the stages of learning photography. It breaks my heart that she didn’t get to continue on her dream.

I miss taking her to chemotherapy. Never in a million years did I think I would hear myself say that. I never wanted to have to take my beautiful, young, full-of-life mom to chemo. But the day came when I had to and it became a routine every 3rd Friday we would go together and sit there for 4+ hours. She made friends in there, she made people laugh in there and I would give up every day for the rest of my life to be able to sit there with her again.

I miss her love. I am surrounded by people every day, people who love and care about me more than I think, but no body, and  I mean nobody will ever love me the way my mom did and that void of missing her will never, ever be filled.

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