When this, my seventh article in my series on time, prints, it will be almost two full years since my mom passed.
It was actually a Wednesday, but we had been with her nonstop since Monday, the day she made a conscience decision to stop fighting the pain and the inevitable.
She lived with us for about 10 years, at times it was trying for all of us and other times we laughed and enjoyed being together. I never asked her how or why she woke up one day and just decided to go; I wished I had. But at that moment I could only feel the overwhelming truth that we had very little time left.
I remember she kept asking when she was going to go, almost like she was waiting for a ride or something, and the ride was late and she was getting frustrated. I, however, wasn’t ready and neither were my kids. My kids never knew my father either, except for my oldest. She was 3 when he passed away, and she was exceptionally close with my mom. I wondered if my mom was waiting for him to come and bring her home. I like to think so.
So much has happened since Jan. 25 2017, so much that I wish she could have been here to be a part of. My youngest has performed in several school plays, with this past fall being her first lead and she is set to play her biggest role this March in “Beauty and the Beast” as Mrs. Pots. My mom would have been so proud, as she herself loved the theater. My middle daughter graduated high school and my oldest got married this last September, and instead of sitting next to my mom I sat next to her picture.
I didn’t mean for this to be about me, but to be about all of us who have lost someone. It is never ever easy and always sad, because that presence, which has been in your world, is no longer. I was not the only one to face loss that year, and it was somewhat comforting to face it with others. Even though we were not close, on some level through that loss, we were.
The death of a loved one, whether it be a parent, grandparent, aunt, uncle, pet, or extra painful, a child, it somehow changes you. They say time heals. I’m not sure that it heals; I think it just becomes the new normal.
And in those quiet moments, or when you see someone who reminds you of them, or hugs you the way they once did, that lump wells up in your throat and you can feel the tears fill the corners of your eyes and you remember how fortunate you are, to have ever had that person in your life, even if for a short time. Love them while you can because as they say tomorrow is not promised.
KIM KRUEGER is a wife and mother of three daughters and a Financial Adviser with Edward Jones in Ottawa. "Do everything with integrity and kindness and all else will follow."