Today I Realized I Miss My Mom

My mom passed 7 years ago. I mention her in conversation, I’m not sure if I’d say “often” or “occasionally”, maybe somewhere in between. Maybe it’s an expression of my missing her, I don’t know. Didn’t stop to think about it until today. She unexpectedly died at the age of 63.

I’ll always be grateful for that last weekend she spent with me. We didn’t know it would be her last, but I think maybe she did. Hubby decided to take the day off and cook her an old Guyanese dish that he knew she loved. He loved it too and her being there was the excuse he needed to cook it so he wouldn’t be cooking it for one. They were both born in Guyana, the kids and I were born here in NYC, so many of the really old school dishes that these two liked, the kids and I would eat while tearing from either the spiciness, the bitterness, or both.

My older girls and I watched a Hallmark movie with mom that Saturday, I never could remember which it was, we chatted throughout the movie. The younger kids were barely 4 and 5 years old. They had their opportunities to play games with grandma, draw with her, and have her feed them “her” desert — which really wasn’t hers, she just used it as an excuse to feed them something sweet and see their faces light up with each mouthful while they skipped around the room singing silly songs as little ones do.

At some point, while we sat across from each other chatting, my right eye’s lower lid began to twitch. A common superstition in our culture is that it’s an intuitive sign of something bad to come.

I said “mom, my bad eye is jumping”, which is the term we use culturally to describe this thing that was the bringer of bad news. Mom’s response was for me to lick my finger and draw the symbol of the cross along my eyelid. I laughed and protested the idea of spitting in my own eye saying that doing so wouldn’t change what was to come. This lead to a mini-lecture from my mom about getting back on my spiritual path (I had taken a sabbatical from all things spiritual — a story for another day.) Of course, I promised. No intention to do it anytime soon but I did promise, only to make her happy.

The following day as I sat on the floor and helped tie her shoelaces, I tried to convince her to stay the day, spend another night. She smiled, she said no, she missed her bed, had some tidying to do, and loved me for asking.

I gave her a big hug, told her I loved her, and watched her from my door as she walked down the stairs. Ready to spring if she needed me, but too lazy to just walk with her.

Mom passed 4 days later in her sleep. Found by her housemate who realized she wasn’t sitting on the porch with her coffee that morning.

It’s been 7 years.

Mom and I were not the talk-every-day types but we did call one another weekly and sometimes met to shop or do the laundry together as we lived within walking distance of each other. My older daughters would take turns dropping by after school to see her before coming home. It wasn’t daily. Mom liked her privacy. She liked her soaps. Early bedtimes. Quiet afternoons “people watching” with her late day cup of coffee in hand.

When I think back, I realize I don’t miss her on her birthday or Mother's day, or during the holidays. Writing this, I’m questioning whether I’ve missed her at all these past years. There have been many times when I wished I could call. But that seems more like I just miss calling her. I miss how she would perfectly fluff and fold laundry with me. I miss seeing all the love and attention she showered the kids with. I miss how involved she was with everything concerning the kids. I miss the happiness of spending birthdays and holidays with her.

Today though. Today I realized I miss her. I think it’s because it is only today I realized she is actually gone. I‘ve known these past 7 years that she’d died. Heck, I was responsible for her soul for a whole year from the time she passed.

It’s a spiritual practice for Hindus to perform a 13-day ritual called a Śrāddha when a loved one passes. A year later, the ritual will be performed again as a conclusion to a year-long commitment. During that year, mindfulness is a must. If you haven’t practiced it before, it's challenging but our cultural belief is that when you are responsible for that person’s soul for the year, your every action is a reflection upon them. I‘ve always known it to be customary for men to perform Śrāddha (many Hindu priests turned me down when I called around for someone to perform the rituals with)but I was an only child, I was the closest person to her and I refused to entrust her soul to anyone else. Our belief is that the performance of the Śrāddha helps the soul move beyond this spiritual plain, into the next, returning to the Divine. Hmmph, mom made sure the last thing she did was get me back on that spiritual path.

So I DO KNOW and have known these past 7 years that she’s gone. It’s the most everyday thing that made me realize it today. A line from a movie.

My youngest and I were watching a movie named A boy called Christmas. Three of the characters are young children who one evening experience separation anxiety when their dad unexpectedly has to leave for work because their mom is no longer with them. Their mother’s aunt drops in to babysit and tells them a tale about a boy named Christmas. At some point in the story, the children ask her to stop and make it clear that she should not continue if someone is going to die, they just can’t handle that. And the aunt’s response is, “You can handle anything cause you’ve already handled everything.”

And that’s when I say to myself, well yeah, their mom’s gone and they had to survive her passing.

For me, that’s the biggest thing I have ever done so far in my life, surviving losing my mom. To this day, there is nothing more “everything” than that. Since then everything else is just so “basic” to me. Nothing has been harder.

Sitting there thinking these thoughts is when I realized I miss her. Who she was. Jolly, loving, hardworking. She was both mom and dad to me my whole life, as my dad abandoned us when I was 8. She was a beast if you crossed her child or grandchild. She even defended my husband once in an argument with his mother. She was loyal to those she loved. If you needed to let out a good rant, just give her a call. She would rant along with you and if you let her, she would call the defensive party and rip them a new one. She could also nag the life out of you and hold a mean grudge. I even miss that about her. All she asked in return was that you loved her sincerely and gave her some companionship every now and then.

So today I realize I miss my mom. My backbone since she passed has been my 4 kids, my loving husband, and my amazing sister Vidya Sury, Collecting Smiles. Vidya filled my mom’s shoes as the loyal defender and rant listener. Always takes my side in everything. She is just solid as a rock. I don’t think I could have made it through these years without her.

I’m grateful for this community Vidya has introduced me to. The Medium community has truly made me feel free to express myself. Thank you for reading.