My mom was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma right before my 19th birthday. I was a freshman in college and my dad had tried to convince me me to move out. Go off on my own somewhere and have a real college experience. I had chosen to live at home and attend the local community college. When her diagnosis turned our world upside down at the beginning of my second semester, we understood why I had felt impressed to stay at home. Divine intervention. I am the second oldest of 9. At the time, all except my older brother lived at home. The youngest being just two years old.
My mom’s cancer leached calcium from her bones and multiplied in her bone marrow. It destroyed her body one broken bone at a time, starting with her hip. She was walking to her car one evening to go work her night shift as an RN. A simple step caused her diseased bone to break the ball off the top of her femur. She had a total hip replacement at the age of 44. The surgeon sent her bone to pathology and the results confirmed the cancer diagnosis.
Her life expectancy was 45 months. But she was my mom. Despite my nursing degree and work as a hospice nurse, I denied all the signs. She was my hero. Invincible. How could she die? I needed her.
She survived 7 years. A week before my 26th birthday my mom died. I was 5 months pregnant with my second child. We’d found out a week before she passed that our expected baby was a boy. I had called my mom and she told me she’d be dreaming in blue, she knew she was out of time to make this baby any sweet gifts from grandma.
There are many paths we will walk in life. Walking the path of a motherless mother is a lonely one. You get to your teenage years and can’t wait to be an adult. I arrived at adulthood in the thick of a family crisis. And then became a mother, only to lose mine. And that’s when I realized that I was never going to outgrow wanting my mother.
A few weeks after mom passed I was in Walmart looking for hair detangler for my toddler. I couldn’t find it and just wanted to be able to call my mom and ask her where it was. Because moms know everything.
Ten years have passed and the void is no smaller. It doesn’t change. Life just moves on. Now I have 5 children who need me as much as I need my mom. That’s an overwhelming thought.
I know my mom watches over me from heaven. That she still exists and I will see her again. I know I have a Savior who made this possible. I hold this knowledge near and dear to my heart.
But it doesn’t take away the anxiety, the pain, the void. What it does do is make it all bearable to carry. And on the days where it’s all too heavy, Christ himself carries it for me.
To the motherless mother. I feel your loneliness. I feel your fear and anxiety. I feel your ache to have your children know your mother. Over the years I’ve also gained strength, courage. I feel peace and her presence. I feel an excitement to see her again. If you haven’t been able to feel those things yet, know that it will come. Trust in the plan He has for you. When it seems like to much to carry, let your Savior carry it for you.
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