They say that the first year is the hardest. It’s all the “firsts”.
The first holiday or big family event without them. Christmas was awful.
The first birthday you don’t get a text or phone call from them. It was the worst birthday I’ve ever had.
The first year of remembering everything that happened, “this time last year.” This is on constant repeat.
The first year of realizing what life is really like without them. Not like it used to be.
And the first year of fully understanding, they are not here anymore.
If all goes according to plan (thank you, technology) you are reading this post on Friday, October 5th. The day before the one-year anniversary since my mom, at just the age of sixty-three, slipped into eternity.
Many of you stood beside me during those hard six months as we said our long, slow, goodbye to her. And I’m still grateful for every card, flower, text, comment, message, and prayer that was sent our way.
In some ways, I can’t believe it’s already been a year. And in other ways, I can’t believe it’s only been a year.
Time has this crazy way of deceiving you about its reality.
Today I’m sharing a few things I learned about grief this last year … because eventutally, all of us will grieve.
1. Everyone’s process is different.
This is hugely important to remember. Just as God designed all of us with different personalities, likes and dislikes, grief is totally different for everyone. So I’m very cautious when people say things like, “Well this is what it was like for me.” But on the flip side, I’ve been grateful to learn from other’s processes of grief. It’s normalized much of what I’ve felt this last year.
2. It hits you at the weirdest times.
A few weeks ago, after I left my middle daughter’s braces consultation, I remember thinking for a minute, “Oh my gosh, my mom will flip out when I tell her how much these braces are going to cost!” Or when we moved my oldest into college I had a moment where I was thinking through all the details and I thought, “Oh I’ll just ask my mom to go pick that stuff up for her.”
I really made it through the “big” holidays like Mother’s Day with ease. That surprised me.
So I’ve been surprised the times my heart has ached the most. It’s not been what I expected.
3. You wrestle with a lot of “what if’s”.
Because my mom didn’t get to live a full life, I’ve struggled with the decisions the doctor’s made, the conversations that were had when I wasn’t around and the way I pushed my soul and body to keep working. I felt like no matter what decision I made in that season someone was going to be upset or disapointed. I don’t know that I made all the right decisions. And it’s okay to admit that. I get so weary of people saying, “I have zero regrets in life.” Because I do wonder … but I don’t let my heart settle there.
Yes, God is soverign and I don’t question that, but let’s just let ourselves be human … it’s okay to wrestle with a what if here and there.
4. It does something to your body.
It’s taken me a year to even feel slightly normal again. I think also, a crisis and then grief is a double whammy on someone’s body. Going through six months of pure awfulness with my mom and her brain tumor was a lot in itself. The speed life went at, the stress, and the constant fear and worry, it did something to me. And I’m still trying to make good choices each day to help restore the places in me.
But don’t be fooled, we don’t come out of a crisis or season of grief and not experience something physical too.
5. It can make you live life a whole lot better.
I don’t live life the same. That is for sure. I realize we’re all going to be in eternity, in just a few minutes. That’s really what it will feel like when we get to the end.
I’ve been more concerned with building a life of legacy than anything else. I also don’t care a whole lot about pleasing people anymore. Like me or not … oh well. (wink)
This year motivated us to start the Fixer Upper Farm Co. And we’ve been so excited to see what God is doing through that endeavor. My grief let me realize there’s so much at stake. We have to live life well and no one can do that for us.
6. You don’t forget the people who acknowledged your pain and you also don’t forget the people who didn’t acknowledge your pain.
You have to be careful because bitterness can stir up deep in this place so easily. But you don’t forget. And it makes you realize how important it is to be there for others when they are in their own time of crisis.
But to this day, I remember the best card I got. It was from a friend. And all it said was, “When the food, cards and people stop coming, just know that I’m still here.” And she has been.
And to this day, I also remember waiting for that one person to call, text … anything. And I remember the silence.
The bottom line is this … I’ve learned so much this last year. And I know grief will always be here. But someone once said that grief:
Is just love having no place to go.
And I agree. And so I’m just always looking for somewhere to put that love. Sometimes it’s into my work, sometimes its into this farm, sometimes its into my family but it’s wrapped in the love that God has poured into me this last year.
And so, I’m letting my grief move me to a place of living life as only I can. Because eternity will be here … in just a few minutes, you guys. Just a few …
Miss you, mom.
14 Comments
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I just lost my mom September 13. My birthday was October 1. I had no birthday cake because she wasn’t here to make it. She always made my cake and I didn’t always want one but I sure missed it this birthday. The firsts are very hard. I also forget that I don’t report to her anymore about things going on. I’ve been down the grief road before but never with my mom.. Thanks for posting this today Nicki, I sure can relate. This past year taking care of her was really hard. But God gave me words every morning to get me through. Today came from him. Thank you Lord.
Nicki, I wish I was there to give you a big hug. You are right. Grief is different for everyone. There is no time limit for grief. My Daddy passed away on Easter Sunday 1998 and my Mama passed away in Feb. 2013, one week before her 92nd birthday. I still find myself going to pick up the phone to call them and share some special news. Scents, sounds and voices allow me to recall special memories of my parents. I am thankful for those memories. Sending love and hugs and prayers to you and your family.
Thank you for sharing. It’ll be 2 years for me this coming Sunday (Oct. 7). It does get easier, but I still want to call her and share whatever is going on in our lives. All 3 of my kids are getting married in the next year. (One on Nov. 2). It’ll hurt that she will not be there. You’re right. We all deal with grief differently. It’s a day by day thing. I still talk to her in my head. Especially when dealing with my dad!!
And Jody – my mom always did a birthday cake for me too…ALWAYS! I thought it was a silly thing…haven’t had one since she died. I don’t think it’s as silly now.
Keep on going, girls! God’s got this and will get us through!
I have tears reading your post as I’ve been right where you are. My Mom lost her battle with Alzheimer’s on September 9th, 2014. She was 75 years young. She missed all 3 of my girls graduating from high school and then going on to college. Birthdays, holidays, just ordinary days too when I’d come across something I know she would have loved or laughed about with me.
Thank you for sharing— it touched my heart???? Hugs to you and your family????????
thank you for sharing your experience – all of your emotions are what I went through as I watched both my parents die of cancer within 4 months of each other back on 2015/2016. May the memory of your mom bring you peace and a smile on your face. You will see each other again and may the thought of that make you smile as well. Hugs to you and your family..
Endless hugs to you, Nicki!
Thanks you for always being so transparent and encouraging, even in your own hard places.
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Jessica
Sending you prayers and hugs. I lost my mom in 2014 and I miss her every day.
Thank you for sharing. I am truly sorry , Nicki.
I lost my brother 3 months ago. His birthday was 3 days ago. He was my close buddy and only family. I’m walking in a daze still . I too waited in silence and the call never came. I was amazed really at who came alongside and who didn’t. It was a good lesson to learn , about who I want to be to others. Your post was so meaningful to me. I can’t thank you enough.
Nicki, Once again you so eloquently spoke to us about what so many of us are feeling. You provide a a safe place for us to open ourselves up and take the time to feel the reality that is grief. I would like to mention griefshare.com and its support group (find a local group) that I attended at my church. It helped me get through that first year and many since. I lost my own mother January 14, 2013. It does get easier, but the pain will never truly go away. Your blog allowed me to feel the sadness of grief. We need to take the time to feel it. I have found for me, that I will feel grief, but if I allow the moments when they come, I won’t have so many surprise attacks!
Thank you for being obedient to the call from God to minister to women by being so raw with us about everything going on in your own life. I know that can’t be easy, but you have to know that because of this you have touched so many of us way deep down in our soul. We know that we are not alone.
Nicki,
So many feelings and moments missed I could include in this, but here is my story in the least possible word count…
My sister was 14, my brother 11 when I blessed them on Christmas Eve 1970 lol. My sister married at 15 had a baby at 16. My brother married at 18.
I was daddy’s girl, when I was 2, my daddy, who at age 36 had triple by-pass surgery. He had heart disease. Didnt slow him down, momma stayed home with me, he spoiled us both. My momma, such a vain diva lol. I say that in the sweetest way.
I turned 14, Dec. 84, then 2/22/85 at 3:12 pm, the only heart atrack he ever had took him, at age 46. What does a daddy’s girl do then?
I received flowers from my English teacher, she wrote. “Push away the clouds of pain and make sunshine of the memories,” so that’s what a daddy’s girl does when suddenly daddy is gone. Fast forward 33 years, my momma is now 82, (never remarried), in amazing health, oh, except for the horrible advancing disease of dementia. Everyday I wonder what “year” she will be in, what memory will she believe just happened…will she know me? My brother, who I was very close to and I knew was always there to help if a decision anything “momma related” came up , I stood beside him during his 4 year battle with cancer, even though he had the same heart disease as daddy, it was the cancer that left me holding his hand as he took his last breath on this side. My sister, well, not present, best left there.
All these years I wondered why I was created, they basically had the others grown. Each time I polish mommas nails, make her TWO hair appts each week, take her shopping, or just sit and watch my adult kids with their Nana and see her smile. I know the answer. It took me 46 years to figure it out, it hasn’t been easy. Often the grief for my daddy and brother covered me as if holding me down to wallow in it forever. The Lord never left me, oh He certainly gave me more than I could carry BUT never more than He could carry for me.
As “my momma” fades away, each day I strive to “push away the clouds of pain and make sunshine of the memories.” After all, memories are all I have.
Praying for you Nicki, may the clouds move and your sun (son) shine through.
I’m so sorry, Nicki, for the deep loss of your mom. Yes to all you’ve written here about grief. I’m a widow and single mom to 7 after my husband died suddenly. While scripture assures us we can grieve with hope, it’s still the painful, raw, deep ache of grief. There are no shortcuts. But giving God our emotions and leaning on His truth when our feelings lie is huge. Praying for you now.
My story is different but, grief rendering nonetheless. My middle Son killed himself on May 27, 2018. He was 40. I relive that phone call every day. I lie awake at night and go over every phone call in my mind, just trying to figure out what I missed. I must’ve missed something. So, this is my year of “firsts”. The pain is raw. I still cannot listen to music in the car. I still cannot look through pictures. I remember the day that I made myself a sandwich, looked at it and thought, my sweet Son will never eat a sandwich again. In the trash it went. Two things touched me as I read your words. I will remember every card, phone call, flowers and kind word. From people that I least expected and those who I knew would be here for me. Like his Army buddies who said so many kind words of respect. But, I have also been upset with old best friends from school and our little hometown who haven’t said a word and I know that they know that I lost my son. I also SO relate that the raw, crying grief hits when I least expect it. BOY does it. Today, I am grateful for my sister friend who read this, thought I needed to read it and emailed me. Thank you Leslye.
Thank you for writing this, you have a wonderful gift of putting thoughts together so prefectly. I lost my mom July 8, 2018. I was 8 months pregnant with my first when I sat with her while she took her final breath. Even though she was on intense pain medication right before that moment I looked into her eyes and I know she knew who I was. I didn’t start my grief process until I was on maternity leave. I actually found you when the women’s group at church did a study on your book, 5 habits of a women who doesn’t quit. At that moment, I really, really wanted to quit but I kept going and your words and the strength of God helped me get through. Even with years of firsts without her, I had the greatest years of firsts with my son. I miss my mom greatly. I never realized how much a mother keeps her family together and that is what I need to do. Thank you for your amazing words, they always seem to be exactly what I need to read. God bless you and your family.
Nicki—sure awesome to hear you in person at Redwood Christian Park in September. My mom passed away in 2003 from ovarian cancer. There are so many things that happen where I say, my mom would have loved that! So many little things that I remember about her. I am sorry for your loss… We never really get over it. We just learn to live with it. Praying for you & your family.
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