Yesterday was my birthday. Today has been two years. Two years since God called my sweet mom home. My mom died 2 hours and 50 minutes after my birthday. My dad said she held on long enough so she wouldn’t pass on my actual birthday. I tend to believe it’s true. Even though she didn’t exactly pass on my birthday, my birthday will never be the same. Lately missing her is so much stronger, and, at times, difficult to shoulder. The longer she’s gone, the more I miss her.

It’s tough being a motherless daughter. I feel like my mom raised me to be a strong, independent woman, by example. Until I lost my mom, I never realized how much I needed her. Before she passed, she was always there. That’s the part of life we take for granted, the assumption of someone always being there. I don’t know about all of you reading this, but my mom was just my rock. She was truly the strongest person I know. She gave tirelessly to everyone. Mom always kept her faith in God through it all. Some days I don’t know how she did it, but she did. I read someone else’s blog describing details of things her mom missed since she had passed. I won’t go through all of the things my mom has missed; I’ll save that for another blog. I want to describe some of those moments that take me back…

The last few years of her life, Moma had dementia. I lost my mom twice. I first lost her mentally, and then I lost her physically. I miss her physically something awful. I close my eyes and can feel her gentle hands holding mine. Mom had this healing way about her. She was known for her rocking chairs. So many times in my life from baby to adulthood, I would climb in her lap for my mom’s touch. She would rock me and always pray for me. As her dementia grew worse, she still wanted me to climb in her lap like I did when she was healthier. Instead I would lay my head in her lap and she would stroke my hair. She had the softest hands.

Mom loved talcum powder. Chantilly was her favorite. She had some left over from when she passed at the nursing home. I keep it in a special place. There are times I’ll lay on my bed to smell it. It takes me back to mom coming out of the bathroom dressed for church rushing us out the door. She never wanted to be late for anything. I could smell her Chantilly in the car as we always arrived at least a half hour early. Mom worried about being late, but we were always the first ones there. When I was little, I always thought she wore too much powder. You would see traces of it on the bathroom floor. I’d give anything to walk through some of her powder right now.

Mom loved her Bible. I remember when I was a kid, she had the bible which had pictures. Makes me wonder if they still make those bibles today. My dad gave her that bible on Christmas 1976. There are few books in the back missing. I flip through the bible and know her fingers traced those very same pages. It takes me back to sitting by her at church and trying to look at the pictures while she’s trying to read the verses. She carried that bible for so many years, until it started falling apart. Today the cover is worn off, but pictures are still in there. My mom’s handwriting is in there, as well.

I still have stacks of Christmas cards my friends sent my mom in the nursing home. Christmas was her favorite time. When I was an adult, I couldn’t wait to have an annual contest to see who received the most cards. I remember rushing home from work to check my mailbox just to call her. She wouldn’t even answer the phone with, “Hello,” she would say, “How many did you get today?” I hated the days I received zero and she received even just one. She would get so excited. I miss her competitive Christmas spirit. My heart still isn’t in it today to truly send out the mass of cards I used to when she was around.

I miss all of that. I miss everything about my mom. I miss not having her with me. I miss not talking to her. I miss not seeing her. I just miss her. I’m not one who sleeps sound. Last few nights I have had a dream about my mom in some way.

My hunka hunka always makes sure to my birthday is special. He knows the toughest part of my birthday will always be knowing what the next day brings. Sometimes it’s hard to put into words. Until God calls me home, I’ll just keep missing her.

Peace out, Trout!