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 soft, soft skin.
The beauty she created in all aspects of her life.
Her calligraphy and handwriting.
Her vast knowledge about everything.
The place she went when she played the guitar, and where it took me.
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