by marissaannebrady on January 8, 2013
Well 2013, the holidays are over and I’ve had some time to reflect. One of the many traits I shared with my mom is our love for the holidays. She was the true spirit of any family gathering. She was always the first to raise a glass, prematurely present a gift, or send a card for any occasion large or small. This was one of the most amazing things about her, she pretty much continually was thinking of ways to give to other people. I have boxes of notes she’d send me throughout college, Valentines, St. Patty’s day cards, Christmas, New Years, President’s Day, Happy Monday. Whatever the occasion, the woman knew how to celebrate.
So this holiday, as were the past two, was bitter sweet. A major guest/host was missing. There was a giant hole from which joy once emanated. I missed her in her red dress, which housed a favored pocket made sock puppet named Delmore. I missed her forcing our entire family, even those less verbose than herself, to give thanks for what gifts we had been given over the year. I missed her company in the kitchen, guiding me on what to chop or plate.
I missed her prodding me for information on my social life, my dating life, and gossip amongst my friends, as we would prepare the holiday meal. I missed her telling me she had cut back on the holiday menu, only to discover one dish out of twenty had been eliminated. (And then most likely added back on at the last minute in a faux panic). So for the third year I felt sad again this holiday season, versus the joy I used to feel over Christmases past. At the promise of a gingerbread house, flurry of wrapping paper, and the potential for carols. I was left in a state of confusion, uncertainty, and although much reflection and honoring was dedicated to my mom, a feeling of enormous loss.
The only thing I know is that she is in a place where there is only the best champagne and foie gras all day long. Where she can listen to all of her favorite songs and be surrounded only by those that make her laugh. I also know if she were here she would tell me to stop wallowing. She would most likely tell me to live my life and find my passion and dedicate myself to it fully. I hope that in the year to come I can follow her wise words even without her here to reinforce them. I hope that I can continue to represent all of the values she instilled. And I hope I can celebrate the joys of life with the vigor she once did. Once again this one is for you woman, wishing you the best of everything there is and missing you every second. I love you always and forever.
I can't even imagine how your heart hurts for your mom. She sounds amazing, but by the looks of it – she raised you to be just like her. So for that, the world is grateful. – Stephanie xo
You are the sweetest! Thanks Steph!
You mom is so proud of you as am I. I hope someday soon, we can all return to joyous Holiday celebrations. Your mom would have wanted that.Love Dad