Home on the range

I am from Texas, but I did not grow up on a ranch. That being said, I'm increasingly more homesick as autumn arrives. It seems this time of year will always bring a wave of sorrow. The fifth anniversary of my Mom's death is in February, but the fall and winter holiday season feels like the real marker of time. This is our fifth Thanksgiving without her - our fifth Christmas - our fifth fall season of birthdays. The ache is present and the longing for eternity is amplified.

I wish she were here for so many reasons - all selfish, of course. I wish she could see us now and take part in this season of our lives - full of new cities, new jobs, new stories and people. I wish she knew Kristen's babies - she would no doubt absolutely love Nate's spark and Abby's sweetness. I wish she could see Jake growing into a man before our eyes. I wish she could see Becca living in New York City (!) and Adam running a marathon. I wish she could see Jason's corner of the country - she would love to visit him there and stop at Aunt Val's and Uncle Dan's on the way back to Dallas. I wish she could advise me on  increased responsibilities at work and that she were here to learn the new gadgets and technology tricks she so enjoyed. I wish I had more picture with her - of her. I wish she could tell me it will be okay. I wish she could cook a big family meal that always feels most like home. I wish she were here to keep track of everyone so we knew more about what was happening with one another -- it is harder work than I realized to keep up with so many siblings and extended family members. I wish she could see Jeremy blowing up the tabloids and big screen and celebrate and laugh with her sister about it. I wish she could play Scrabble with me - now that I know how to play. I wish she could enjoy a cup of coffee with Grandma and work on a 2000 piece puzzle with her.

I wish she were here. But she is gone from this world - and quite honestly, it just really sucks. It doesn't get easier - it doesn't go away - it changes, sure - but it never stops. You never stop needing your Mom. That's the reality I have to live in everyday. Everyday as I listen to a coworker jokingly respond with "your Mom" and want to say to her, "Actually, my Mom died and every time you say that as a joke it makes me want to say to you that she is dead." Everyday I hear people talk about spending time with their Moms - planning a future with their Moms - planning a wedding with their Moms - planning the birth of their babies with their Moms - calling their Moms - visiting their Moms - and sometimes it just slices right through my heart.

I catch myself crying out to God and asking him why in the world he would take someone so important from us so early in our lives. There isn't really an answer to that - there isn't a response that makes any sense to my human heart, but I do believe that God is good and that he loves me more deeply and perfectly than my Mom ever could - or anyone else for that matter.

Here we go into another anniversary march toward February 23rd. I know I will survive - I know God will be with me - but I definitely do not want to do this. at all.