I miss you. Nine years ago today, as you lay dying, we had our last conversation. Even though you had basically been unconscious and uncommunicative with morphine for those last few days, I placed my head next to yours on your hospital bed and I grabbed your hand and I whispered to you these words: I am strong because of you. It’s okay for you to go now. You don’t have to hold on any longer. You have taught me how to love and how to be a mother and even though I am crying and heartbroken, I will be the best mother I can possibly be to your beloved grandchildren that you adore.
And then I felt your hand nudge mine. A gentle yet firm nudge that let me know you heard me. And I just kept saying I love you. I am strong. You can let go. Over and over.
Those last moments with you have become embedded into the very core of my soul. Just like the abundance of moments we shared for 38 years together as mother and daughter and the dearest of friends.
My grief for you has become a part of me. It can be expansive – filling every part of me and then it can flatten down into a smaller part- like a big balloon that is filled with air and then deflates and takes up less space but is still a balloon.
I hope you know how much I have leaned on you these last couple of years. I have a feeling that you do know. Your love and laughter and peacefulness continues to be the soothing balm it always was and I can feel your presence guiding me throughout my most challenging days. A part of me is glad that you don’t have to see me with MS. And other parts of me so wish that you were here. Not a day goes by that I don’t reflect on the power of your influence and the compassion you effortlessly poured into me and our family.
And guess what? I love you. And I am still strong. And O and J love you and have become these amazing people. I know you already know this. And that you are smiling. And laughing in that boisterous way that is uniquely yours.
The balloon is really full at this time and I need to have a cleansing cry and look at old pictures now. I’m already wearing one of your comfy shirts.
Musings of a Psychotherapist Living with Multiple Sclerosis 
Such a beautiful testament Melissa, I too needed a good cry this morning and this sure brought out the tears! Tears I needed as they are comforting to the mind, soul and body….we were so lucky to have her! Your strength, your passion comes from her and she is so very proud of you……I love you my sweet daughter!
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I love you.
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You forgot to include her grandson M. He misses her and their McDs playground dates and her giving him Swedish Fish. She’s remembered so fondly by our family. We love and miss her too. What a ray of light she was.
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The good old days!!! 🤗
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Miss her every day. What a gift to my life!
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💕💕💕
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I love this and you! I thought I was the only person that takes comfort in wrapping myself in my mother’s clothes.
I recall meeting your mom once when I was working at Macy’s. That brief meeting explained so much about you. Her welcoming smile and immediate aura of kindness and acceptance that I felt in our brief introduction, are the same ones that radiate from you.
Sending love and big hugs,
Robbin
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I remember that day in Macy’s! Thank you- and you are not alone in the comfort of wearing your mom’s clothes 🤗
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Mel- truer words could not be said! Love you to the moon and back!
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I love you to the moon 🌚 and back! Y’all to you tomorrow ❤️
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So get this dear Melissa. Mom’s clothes, her rocker, her treasures bring so much comfort to me especially on the tough days, as they do for you. 2011 sometimes feels like it was yesterday!
Love and hugs to you all.
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Right back at you!
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Oh my gosh, Melissa, those are the most beautiful words of sentiments for your beloved Mother. Her laughter was infectious!! You have her strength and are imparting that to your own children!! Love you! Sherry
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Thank you 😊 so much!
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Melissa….I am just seeing this for the first time. Your Mom would love every word you wrote….as do all her Oldie Goldie friends. She was a rare find…..so full of life and living it her way. We all loved that about her. When she would do something that confounded the rest of us, we would always say, “that’s Sandra” in the lovingest of ways! She was such an integral part of all of our lives and the void will never be filled. So we fill it with memories of wonderful days and years. I send my love to all of you!
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