She’s Supposed to Be Here

March 5, 2019
Featured Post from The Grief Toolbox

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.

You see, she’s supposed to be here.

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.

xox, Chelsea

In memory of my mother, Rita Stathers. The most amazing woman I’ve ever known.
Share:
0 comments so far.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Chelsea Ohlemiller

Chelsea Ohlemiller

A thirty-something wife, mother and educator who has Indiana roots and a passionate spirit. Chelsea is a sappy romantic, coffee junkie, book collector, and person who wears her heart on her sleeve. She’s sarcastic, full of jokes, full of tears, and enjoys writing most when life gets messy or complicated. In 2017, Chelsea's mother passed away. Through her grief journey, she decided to take her mother’s advice and share her writing with the world. One day she gained the courage to honor her mother's wishes and write. It turned out to be one of the best decisions she's ever made.

Let’s connect:

Archives:

Subscribe to our mailing list: