Monday, December 30, 2013


What it is:
Today marks ten years since my Mom died. I remember thinking in the weeks after her accident, will it hurt this much in 5 years? 10? Will I ever get to the point when I'm not so angry, so sad? When will this not be so painful? Will it ever just be normal to not have my Mom down the street, a phone call away? Her absence still hurts, but not every moment of every day. I am no longer angry, but the sadness is always there. The pain is eased by my Littles, by being the mama I know she would be proud of. It is normal now to be without my Mom, I haven't picked up the phone to call her in years. She is just down the street but instead of curating her beautiful home, she is resting in an old cemetery's grove.
Lessons I've learned:
I've lost so much in her death but I dare say I've gained much as well. Because of my Mom's death I look at life differently: I am aware of it's fragility, it's delicate nature. This reality creates an alternative perspective on living, one I surely did not have before I experienced deep grief. As a survivor, I am more empathetic (maybe too empathetic at times) to other people experiencing emotional pain. As a survivor, I am strong: I know where I've been, how far I've come.
What I miss:
Her pride in me.
Her hands.
Her soft, soft skin.
The beauty she created in all aspects of her life.
Her calligraphy and handwriting.
Her hugs.
Her neck.
Her smile.
Her vast knowledge about everything.
Her cooking.
The place she went when she played the guitar, and where it took me.
Her tenderness. 
Her listening and advice.
Her cheer leading in my life
I miss our arguments, her sicknesses, her sadness, her hurt.
I miss her love.
Patricia Ann Pingel Sattler
April  3, 1952 - December 30, 2003


  1. I miss how she would cross her eyes and screw her face up when she made fun of her kids and their dumb little friends like me. I'll go ahead and still be angry about losing her, and others like her, for awhile, because it's not fair that we lose such radiant people at all, much less so soon.

  2. I can't believe it's been 10 years. I wish I had known her better, but the little I did know, she was so kind and sweet to me. I know she would be proud of the woman and mother you've become. She lives on through you and your children.