With the one year
anniversary of Mom’s death last weekend, we have completed our year of “firsts”
without her; the first night of sleep with the monitor off, the first walk to
the car without dragging the wheelchair down the ramp, the first visit to a
friend in the middle of the day, the first birthdays, the first round of
holidays and holiday pictures, the first return to her home, the first outings
to her favorite restaurants and stores. Don and I have even taken some short
trips to test our new wings of freedom.
Overall, it has been a
predictably sad, but positive year in that we have taken our time to adjust,
heal, and look for a new balance. The surprise for me has been that I expected
to feel a sense of relief beneath the sadness, but it either has not come or
has been so tangled up with the feelings of loss and change that it was
negligible. Although I marvel at the ease of small freedoms, that sense of
relief eludes me. Even after a year I still feel like I am a step
behind, trying to catch up, but catch up to what? I don’t know.
I think this struggle has
something to do with Mom being the last of our parents and grandparents. Even
though the others have been gone for a number of years, Mom’s death seems to
have freshened their loss as well. I remind myself daily how lucky we were to have
them for as long as we did so that our kids could grow up amid such an
eclectic, loving, funny, and terrific support system. But I still miss Mom’s gentleness
and unexpected laughter, Grandpa Tebedo’s corny jokes, Aunt Blanche’s and Grandma
Tebedo’s spoiling, Vern’s protectiveness, Betty’s winks and friendship, and
Dad’s steadfast belief in us.
So, this year of firsts has
been slower to work through and many regained freedoms feel more bittersweet
than triumphant. Yet, we have much love and laughter to remember and be
thankful for and much sweetness and fun to look forward to, so life is still
good. Different, but good.
