It was once mentioned to me some of the pictures I post on Facebook are misunderstood, and not appreciated. The pictures in discussion are less than picture perfect. I’ve written posts and shared photos that are unflattering, silly, whiny, funny, thoughtful, sad, disgusting and joyful.

This is me.

I post pictures of the best moments of my life, but I also try to post moments that are a real representation of who I am. In many ways the feedback regarding my pictures, reminded me of all the reasons I don’t like social media. Facebook and Instagram are mainly forums for presenting the best days of people’s lives. In between those posts are the most disgusting parts of our world. We either see the best or the worst. We feel sad when we see animals mistreated, children neglected, prejudice at play, violence and crime. But it’s also hard not to feel bad about ourselves when everyone is out having fun, yet we are home paying bills and watching reruns of Gilmore Girls in the same clothes we’ve been wearing for three days.

Don’t get me wrong. It would be terrible if people didn’t share the best part of their lives. To see people love life and feel joyful inspires happiness. For me personally, I try to share a little bit of everything, because that is my true life.

Being true is also the reason why I write and share my blog. I write because it is a way for me to process my feelings. I share because I hope there might be someone who connects to my imperfection and vulnerability in a way they can’t connect to the picture-perfect representation posted elsewhere.

Today I feel inspired to write about how I’m feeling in this exact moment, well actually, how I’ve felt for several weeks. Are you ready for it?

Bummed. Sad. Weepy.

I stood at the kitchen counter making my morning coffee and the tears fell down my cheeks. Sometimes I don’t know the source of my tears, today I do.

My son is graduating and it feels NOTHING like how I had imagined it would feel. I believed I would feel 100% celebratory. Why not? My amazing son is accomplishing what we worked hard for all those years. He’s heading off to college! He’s grown up to be an incredible young man who has a special girlfriend and wonderful friends, any of which I would be proud to call my own children. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t do drugs. He hugs me numerous times during the day. He’s thoughtful (albeit absentminded.) He’s a very, very, very good kid with a bright future ahead of him.

I had also imagined my parents being in the stands celebrating their grandson’s monumental milestone. I had imagined dancing a jig together, because we had done it!!

Yes, there is the part of me rejoicing he is moving onto college to experience the best years of his life.

But my heart aches. A chapter is closing and it passed by in a heartbeat. The next chapter is not what I envisioned.

I did not foresee being an empty nester at 41 years old when Austin left for college. I had not planned for my daughter to be living elsewhere. I never stopped to think there would be a day when I would not have children at home to nag, yell, tease, laugh, console and hug goodnight. In no way was I prepared for how it would feel to not have my parents with me in the stands on Austin’s graduation night.

It feels like it’s been one goodbye after another over the last couple years. I’m no longer a daughter and in a few short weeks I will no longer have an active role as a mother, the only important role I've known for the last 18 years.

Yes, I will always be a mom, I know. It will just be different, and I will need to adjust.

This is the other part I struggle with. The pressure to have my own identity, to have my own purpose outside of being an every day mom has become a greater responsibility. What will I do? Who will I become?

I’m saying goodbye to what I’ve known, as well as being forced to reinvent myself all at the same time. It feels sad. It feels scary. I don’t feel ready.

This is my truth.

You will see pictures of me with my son on his graduation day, smiling and celebrating his momentous accomplishment. I will feel incredibly happy and proud! I will exult his past successes and his exciting journey ahead. However, if I only shared these snapshots with you, you wouldn’t know the whole story.

It’s like the bride who walks down the aisle for her wedding day. Everything is picture prefect in that moment and the only things you see are the beauty and the smiles. Most people never see the work and drama that unfolded to make that moment happen.

My heart will be bursting at the seams when I see Austin walk up the aisle to receive his diploma. I cannot wait to hear him call me from college and share all the wonderful things happening in his life.

I guess, this is the true nature of being a mom. The quest to see your children happy will always outweigh any personal heartache. I will gladly say goodbye to my children to see them experience a joyous life. I will choose them over me.. every. single. minute. of. every. damn. day.

At the risk of being real, I will tell you though, there’s a deep ache within my heart.

Dear Mama,

A few months after dad passed away, you purchased a carved stone that now sits by the stairway he built outside our family home.  I often times recite the words of the poem in my head, but today the words speak to me more poignantly than usual. 
 
I thought of you today
But that is nothing new
I thought of you yesterday
And days before that too.
 
I think of you in silence
I often speak your name
All I have are memories
and your picture in a frame.
 
Your memory is my keepsake
With which I’ll never part
God has you in his keeping
I have you in my heart.
 
Oh Mama.  My heart aches today, but like the poem says, that is nothing new.  I have felt your loss every day since you’ve been gone.  There are so many times I’ve longed to pick up the phone and call you.  I’ve wanted to hear your voice more times than I can count. 

Truth be told, there are some days when I need you more than others.  There have been times when I have felt feel hurt and I needed to hear your love and words of comfort.  There have been many, many times when I have doubted myself and I needed your reassurance and words of encouragement.  I’ve had some wonderful things happen to me in the last several months, and I’ve longed to share them with you and hear your excitement.

It is in the brief seconds between when I think of calling you and when I realize I can’t my heart breaks, my throat swells, the tears fall and I feel your absence the most.

Springtime has been hard, especially this year.  I’ve always loved the spring, but since you and dad became sick it hasn’t felt the same.  Springtime brings your birthday, March 23rd.  What a beautiful day to celebrate!  Springtime brings Easter, and Easter lilies.  Oh how you loved Easter lilies, the beauty and the smell.  Every spring an Easter lily sat in the center of your kitchen table on one of your Corelle dishes.   Easter also reminds me of the Jell-O eggs you always made.  Do you remember those?

Spring time brings my birthday.  You had always done so much to celebrate your kid’s birthdays.  The parties, the cakes, the friends.  Every year you were the first person to call and wish me happy birthday and say you loved me. 

Spring time brings memories of you and dad in the hospital.  It’s not your fault, but spring reminds me of all the drives back and forth over the bridge to visit you and dad at Swedish.  It was hard not to recognize the beautiful city in which we live as I drove over the 520 bridge, but every drive brought anxiety because I wasn’t sure the state you and dad would be in when I arrived.  It’s so hard to explain my feelings during that time.  In many ways those days were the worst days of my life, and yet I can also recall the depth of love I felt for you, dad, Debbie, Jeff and Kimmy during those same times.  Those were the moments the strength of our family was tested and proven.  How can I reconcile the painful memories of the hospital against the immeasurable amount of love I felt for my family during our darkest days? 

I don’t mean for it to sound like I don’t love my siblings now as much as I did then.  It’s actually quite the opposite.  I love them more.  It’s impossible to go through what we went through and not feel a deeper connection than we did before.  I don’t know how you and dad did it, but you created strength and an incredible amount of love between us.  As a mother myself, I want to emulate this for my own family.

Springtime brings baseball.  I can’t sit in the stands of Austin’s games without thinking of you and dad.  Dad with his humor and jokes about wearing leather underwear.  You and some of your embarrassing commentary.  Yes, sometimes you embarrassed me as you sat in the stands.  You were always so enthusiastic about the game and the player’s performance, so sometimes this meant you would make comments about our pitcher who was struggling on the mound.  The problem is, you didn’t realize the parents were sitting nearby.  Yeah, I was embarrassed at the time, but what I wouldn’t give to have you there at Austin’s game today. 

So yes, springtime is hard.  It’s been hard for several months.

Spring also bring Mother’s Day.  Mother’s Day is a joyous occasion for many and a day of sorrow for others.   Just as I have trouble reconciling my feelings during those days spent at the hospital, I have trouble reconciling my emotions on Mother’s Day.

I celebrate my children.  I was blessed with one of the most important jobs in the world, and I'm finally realizing I’ve done a pretty good job.  The other day Ryanne said to me, “I appreciate you.”   Mom, I don’t know if I ever said the same to you.  They are such simple words, and yet the impact I felt when my daughter said them to me had the most profound effect.   If I never told you the same, I want to tell you now.  Mom, I appreciate you.  I appreciate you and what you did for us in more ways than I can adequately express.

Mom, I love you.  I know we said this to each other quite frequently.   You loved me, just as I loved you.  I believe it was because you and dad freely expressed your love for us,  my kids and I exchange these same three words often.  In fact, Austin gives me a hug me every night before bed and tells me he loves me.

So you see, Mother’s Day brings a mix of emotions.  My heart aches you are not here with me today, but I have so much to celebrate on Mother’s Day. 

I have two beautiful kids. 

I had you. 
​

​Ryanne gave me her second gift last week as we talked over the phone.  She was questioning whether or not she should attend ‘call backs’ that evening for a musical.  She had many reasons for not wanting to audition, but one of the reasons was the familiar reason of self-doubt.  “I’m sure they won’t pick me.  I don’t want to get my hopes up and then be disappointed.”  As I coached her through these thoughts, I told her the decision was entirely hers.  If she decided not to go, I would support her.   It was important for her to know if she auditioned at call backs, it was entirely possible she still wouldn’t get the part she wanted.  However, if she didn’t at least try, she was guaranteed to never get the part she wanted.   As I said these words to my brave and courageous daughter, I was forced to remember all the times in which I have not lived by my own words.  Her bravery inspired me to try and fail, try and fail and keep trying until I have achieved what makes me afraid to fail. ​