I’ve been complaining about the holidays and how I’m not in the spirit … blah, blah, blah. But in an after-hours chat with my co-conspirator, I recognized that my lackluster holiday spirit may have something to do with the fact that I miss my mom—still. But especially during the holidays.
I went card shopping today to send to my family members and it still stings when I can’t buy one for my mom. I still read them and imagine me sending her one and watching her face light up as she reads the words. But that’s not the worst of it. I’ve learned to cope with that. It’s the hugs—or the hugs I’ll no longer receive.
What I would not give to just be able to hug her one more time. When I would go home for the holidays, I would walk through the front door and be greeted by the most amazing hug I had ever experienced in life. No one hugged quite like her. Her hug made everything better. Your weary travels, crazy passengers, traffic—it all just melted away in her hug. I would really love to just feel her arms around me one last time. And I know that wouldn’t be enough, but just to have that feeling again would be amazing.
It just doesn’t feel like the holidays without her physically here. In fact, the holidays have not felt the same since she passed more than five years ago.
I know as time passes, the pain eases a bit. But it doesn’t really ease, it just sort of shifts around and becomes something else—like bitterness during the holidays. And you know what? I’m not even going to fight it. I’m just going to have compassion for myself and allow myself to feel whatever it is I’m feeling. I won’t wallow, but I will just feel it. And I will remember how good it felt to be hugged—and loved by her.
Hmm … I’ve come a long way from the start of this blog after all.