My one and only

My one and only

December 2, 2023 21 By Yve Harrold

November 24, 2023 – Today, I am reminded of this, when someone you love, who you are immensely invested in, has just died,

  • anything and everything that you try to do, that you did without hesitation even one minute before their death, feels utterly strange and inconsequential.
  • the unanswerable question of “where are they now” swirls endlessly in your head.
  • every text, phone call, social media message received with condolences is welcomed, needed, and makes you feel loved.
  • the tears you cry for your loss literally burn your eyes, your skin.
  • you will get so lost in thought, memory, fog, and hurt that your day will disappear before you and you will have no idea where it went.

But there is one thing that I learned only now, in this moment. No matter how old I am and how expected her death may have been, it really hurts, because my Mommy is gone. She is my one and only. She nurtured me in her own body. She dedicated her life to mine. She sacrificed. She worried. She taught. She disciplined. She is the one who did all of it tirelessly. And now, she is done.

Mom lived with dementia for nearly four years. We have been slowly grieving the parts of her that were slipping away. But this is the last, the final. There are elements to this moment that are all too familiar. And yet this is new, sacred ground.

Six days before her death, the last time we face timed (thank you technology), she was so chatty. She had a lot to say but much of it made no sense to me and my sister. Even many of her words sounded like their own language. Most of her expressed thoughts were lacking a middle or an end. Things were changing. She had some physical setbacks which often seemed to go hand in hand with more confusion or even seemingly hallucinations. But during this conversation, she said this in one clear statement: “I don’t even realize. Time goes fast. I don’t know why but it does. I’ve got so much to do.” I knew then this was the her truth. I also suspected it was foreshadowing or a sign that her life would end soon. We knew that it would, in perhaps a few months, or so. But it was sooner. And that’s more than okay Mom.

I know Mom enjoyed her 80 years. But I also know she worried that she had made some decisions in life that may not have been the best for her girls. For reasons I will never fully know or understand, because they are my Mom’s, my parents split a few months after I was born. I have heard the narrative, mostly from Mom, but it was cloaked in so much guilt that I chose to never pry much. I mostly just reassured her that there was no reason for her to carry that. None at all.

She worked hard in a tire factory for 13 years, second shift, arriving home late, covered in black soot. She woke early the next morning to spend the day with us or get us ready for school. She cleaned houses in her spare time as there was no child support coming from my biological father. By the time I was five, Mom had found a new relationship for herself that would also prove good for her two girls. Together, with her new husband, Larry, she made a life that would serve her children well. And yet, my mom carried guilt. She told me this many times as I grew into a young adult. 

As humans with emotions, we have many opportunities to doubt ourselves. We make tough decisions along the way. And as I have said before and told myself over and over, we do the best with what we know.

In my eyes my mother was perfect. Even when I wasn’t, which I am afraid was more than a few times. She was funny, extremely loving, friendly, outgoing, and a little ornery. And as far as I can see, my Mom did everything right in this life. And she was beautiful to the end.

And here is the last thing that I learned on this day as I finally coaxed myself to my own bed after spending the entire day in the guest bed weeping myself dry. It was my last day awake where my Mom was still in this world with me and I didn’t want it to end. I fought, in my exhaustion, to stay awake.

I guess it goes back to my belief, my knowing, that I will never be here again. I wrote about this over three years ago. And here it is. Still with me. Still true. I had realized that on this sacred journey of grief, there was a strong sense that I needed to stay in the present. I knew that each tear was an instant in time that I would never have again. Yes, I WILL experience loss again and I will mourn. But never, ever, ever in the same way. She was my one and only.

*Mom Harrold, November 24, 2023, rest in peace