Let me start by saying at one point I did not like change. As in, it would send me into a panic attack just thinking about any minor change. And honestly for the first many years of our marriage, not much changed. Mark worked. I stayed home. We had kids. We lived in the same house. My sister was in Olathe. My parents were down the street. There were bumps along the way, of course. Some bigger and harder than others. But the course remained really fairly steady for years.
Then we hit a huge bump. I was unhappy in the marriage. I made poor choices. And I filed for divorce. Made the decision to put the kids in public school. Mark moved out for a time. It was a mess. With time and work, and me being unreasonable for some time, we began to put things back together. That was five years ago.
We spent a year working on marriage and life and adjusting kids to school. Things settled into a new comfort again. That was four years ago.
Then we decided to move. From the suburbs of Lee's Summit, to the city of Kansas City. The three kids had completed another year of public school. (Xander went right in to Kindergarten.) We listed the house the very beginning of 2014. It was a long six months of showing the house. Having deals fall through. Wondering if this was what we were really supposed to be doing. Packing. And moving in June. To a house that needed SO MUCH WORK IT FREAKED ME OUT. Into a neighborhood that was the time was more much active that our old one. And no longer down the street from my parents. It was too much at times. We put the three kids in KC schools, another freak out. So much change. And honestly? I hated most of it. And about three months into this move, I snapped my ankle. Unable to walk for close to two months. More suckage. That was three years ago.
We spent that first year in this house struggling. No joke. With everything. Our marriage was crap. Mark took a pay cut at work. The kids were adjusting to new schools. And at that they were in three different schools. I was trying to walk again. I had Eldoie at home still. Trying to work on the house, but didn't really have the money to do much. Pipes breaking. It sucked. Everything was different and not in any good way I could see.
After we had lived here for one year, it was time for change again. Good Lord, had it not been enough yet? The answer was no, and I personally was about to embark on what would be the biggest changes in my life that I think I have ever faced. Elodie was enrolled in Kindergarten. We had just been informed that our house payment had been incorrectly calculated (FOR AN ENTIRE YEAR) and was going up significantly. It was time. I needed to go find a job. So we had all four kids enrolled in school. Elodie and Xander at the same one. I found an awesome job. Perfect hours. Full time. Benefits. Same hours and breaks as the kids. Off we went to start this new chapter.
As we were settling into this life of two working parents, four kids in school, and trying to continue to fix the house and the marriage still, mom got sick. Two months into all the new. That couldn't be right. Things were just starting to get better. The kids were feeling more settled in school and at home. I was loving my job and the people I was working with. Mark had taken a different position. The sun was shining again in our lives. And the dark clouds rolled in. That was one and a half years ago.
Just like that, mom was gone. Dad moved in with us. Dad worked on the house. Because he is amazing. And needed some things to keep himself busy. We helped each other move on as best we could. There was a huge empty space now. And no one could ever fill it again. My mom wasn't there. I am sure the sun continued to shine. I am just not sure how often I saw it. The fog was too think. Things got done just as they always had. But they were clouded in a new heaviness.
We finished that school year. And began to look to the next school year. Once you have kids, I feel like your years are dated from August-August, not January-January. I decided to go back to college. And I offered to work some extra hours at work. The four kids began another year in KC. We started our first year without mom. And it was odd. Mark and I went on a mission trip. We traveled to North Carolina. The boys went to Chicago, at different times with Mark's family. Things were getting better. Change was still happening often. Life was going on. Without mom.
Losing mom was a defining moment in my life. She was my everything. I know that can seem odd to read. But she was. I talked to her daily. She advised me. She encouraged me. She backed me up. She took care of me. She listened. She was always there. And I don't say that because when we lose someone we look back and only talk about the good. That was my relationship with my mom for years. Since I was in high school. My mom was my best friend. And I watched her take her last breath. And it rocked me to my core in a way nothing else ever has. I miss her often. The pain is not constant like it was. It comes in waves and I feel like I can't breath for some time. Then I come up for air. Until the next time the wave hits.
My daddy has been amazing. I am not sure living here would be his first choice honestly. But mom told him that was what he was going to do, so he has. And we have been immensely blessed by him. He is comfort and love and warmth. And we are lucky.
I no longer have a mom. That is a change that I am not sure I will ever accept. I have often described what the grief process has been like by comparing it to snapping my ankle. Because I love a good metaphor.
I had run before I broke my ankle. After, while I was healing, I was nervous I would never walk again. At least not without a limp and very slow. Then, as I worked on that, I knew I would never run again. The idea itself freaked me out. The beginning of this year we decided to join the gym and I decided I was going to run again. It had been two years since the ankle. And within a couple weeks, I was running. Not fast. A little wobbly. With a brace. And my ankle can still swell. You can see my scars from my surgery. You can feel the screws in my ankle, and sometimes you can see them. My ankle will never be the same again. I can run again. And I am. But it will never be the same as it was before I broke it.
That's what losing mom is like. Life will go on. It has to. We will continue to make memories. Things will continue to change. We can continue to live life. And we will. But it will never be the same as it was when mom was here to share it with us.
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