I sit here with the holidays approaching, staring at my children in tears. I find myself lost in my grief. This has been happening a lot lately. My mother passed away in 2017. The shock seems to be fading and reality seems to be setting in. I’m not prepared for the reality that my mother isn’t here and won’t be ever again.
She’s supposed to be here to hug, love, and make memories with.
She’s supposed to be here to give me advice and guidance.
She’s supposed to be here helping me figure out how to parent the way she did, with grace and patience.
She’s supposed to be here to teach me her famous recipes and help me when I try them and fail.
She supposed to be here to call and discuss my troubles and to vent about the chaos and unpredictability of life.
She’s supposed to be here to see all of the new successes and adventures that are taking place.
She’s supposed to be here to watch my family grow and help provide the traditions, love, and laughs that grandparents do.
She’s supposed to be here making memories with my children, helping them have the magical childhood that they deserve because of her love.
She’s supposed to be here to shop with, get our nails done, and do all the other mother-daughter experiences.
She’s supposed to be here for the grandparent days, the awards ceremonies, the dance recitals, the sporting events, and to see my kids make me the proudest mom alive.
She’s supposed to be here to remind me to believe in myself and to go after my dreams.
She’s supposed to be here to tell me, as she so often would, how beautiful I am in her eyes.
She’s supposed to be here making a room light up with her smile.
She’s supposed to be here because she’s my mother and I need her.
Sadly, she isn’t here and can’t be. When the shock of her absence wore off and I was left with the reality of her forever absence, I found myself here, in this place of immense heartbreak. My beautiful aunt sent this to me the other day when I was deep in the darkness of grief: “Even when she was sick she chose to laugh and smile and was still truly happy. If she could bare all that she went through in such a positive way, then I think to honor her we can grieve with that same happiness and love. Because happiness and love is a true representation of her and her life. As long as you’re happy and smiling she will live on forever.”
Today friends, if you are grieving too, I say: smile, find happiness around you, and spread love around like confetti. Let’s help our loved ones live on forever through our joy and the happiness of their memory. It’s worth a try. If that’s too hard to do today, just breathe and try again tomorrow. One day, you’ll be ready to make your grief productive and when you do, it will be beautiful.
Wife, mother and educator who has Indiana roots and a passionate spirit. Chelsea is married to the love of her life, Justin. She’s the mother to a spunky and beautiful 7-year-old daughter named Hattie, an independent and rambunctious 5-year-old son named Hutson, and an adorable new son named Hyland. Chelsea recently left her job as a special education teacher in Indianapolis to become a stay-at-home-mom. Little did she know she'd soon be led back into the classroom. She recently accepted a position with Anderson University supervising student teachers. She has a deep love of teaching and has always enjoyed helping inspire students. She is a Ball State graduate but an Indiana University Hoosier at heart. Chelsea’s mother always encouraged her to write. In 2017, Chelsea's mother passed away. She decided to honor her mother's wishes and write. It was one of the best decisions she's ever made.