And I just laugh it off...
by Andrea Jenkins
On April 14, 2011, I lost my Mom to cardiac arrest. She was only 54 years old, and I 23. It has been only a little over 15 months, and sometimes it seems like just yesterday. Mom was a nurse, (LPN) and I think, it was her addiction to narcotic drugs which finally took its toll on her life. She went much too soon. Sometimes, my memories of her, both good and bad, overwhelm me, and it’s like I don’t want to go on any longer. I know, however, I have my whole life ahead of me, and she wouldn’t want me to just check out, as it were on such a wonderful life. The most painful struggles I cope with are, the knowledge that my graduation from university this December will be very bittersweet because she won’t be there to share in the memory with me. She’ll also miss out on my wedding when I’m married. I love her so much, and some days I wake up and can’t believe she’s gone. We could talk about everything together, sex, boys, her life, my life, anything! She was my best friend, and no matter how many friends I may have or how many times I tell myself, “It will get better with time” I still feel the searing pain of emptiness and sadness. Noone will ever replace her, and nothing ever serves to dull the heartache of her absence. Growing up, there were plenty of times when she wasn’t around, but she was still alive and my Mom. When she was around though, she would cook the most delicious meals and always make me a fresh hot cup of tea. These little acts of love would always make me feel better. In later years, when I started college, just hearing her voice on the other end of the line gave me comfort and happiness. Now, I can’t call her anymore: I will never hear her voice again. I only pray she is enjoying a beautiful heaven with God, and her pains and fears are no more. So, this is my life: I dream of her everyday. I cry, feel better, cry, and feel ok again. Maybe, oneday, the pain won’t be so terrible. But for now, I live, breathe, and wait. Mom always said, and I cling to this: “Memory is a paradise from which we can never be driven.”