She’s the woman standing ready to take her diploma. The one she received with honors and the one with an admirable 4.0 attached to it. As she reaches for the tassels ready to move them to the appropriate side, tears stream down her face as she thinks of her mother. Her mother is in heaven and that’s an ache she always lives with.
She’s the woman rocking back and forth as she nurses her newborn, covered in exhaustion and baby cuddles. She’s simultaneously a mixture of overwhelming gratitude and unstable emotions that she’s never quite encountered before. As she now holds the title of mother, she thinks of her own. Her mother is in heaven and that’s an ache she always lives with.
She’s the woman that sits alone in the nail salon overhearing the joyous conversation of the mother-daughter team that sits beside her. She listens through tears as she wonders what it feels like to experience these mother-daughter moments. She suddenly thinks of her own mother and how it feels like she’s been gone forever. Her mother is in heaven and that’s an ache she always lives with.
She’s the woman who abundantly and overwhelmingly shows up for her children. She overcompensates often to try and cover the absence they don’t deserve, the absence of having a grandmother in heaven instead of here. She wonders what her mom would have looked like old and grey. She thinks of the moments her mother is missing, with her and with them. Her mother is in heaven and that’s an ache she always lives with.
She’s the woman who faces adulthood with typical challenges and roadblocks and even though she is blessed with a beautiful support system, she wishes she could call her mother. She wishes her mother was reachable in some or any capacity. Her mother is in heaven and that’s an ache she always lives with.
She’s the woman attempting to be a good wife and mother and good at everything she holds a title for, even daughter, though she hasn’t felt the responsibility of that title in far too long. She bends down to pray for guidance and knowledge and inspiration from the woman that created her. She cries out for her mother, knowing she won’t be able to answer the desperate calls. Her mother is in heaven and that’s an ache she always lives with.
She is me, each and every one of them, a woman with a mother in heaven. A mother that feels both so loving and so gone all at the same time. A mother that feels absent from everything and present in everything all at the same time. A mother in heaven, unable to be present like the mothers of the friends I know. A mother that shows up in ways only I can understand and moments that only I can feel.
I live with the kind of mother that can’t be seen but the kind that loves me beyond her last breath and the last beat of her heart. I live with a mother in heaven.
A 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.
Hi Chelsea. I stumbled on your post and it has hit home. Change out your graduation for my wedding 6 months after my mom died, and it’s like you wrote my soul. 🙂 In a few days it will 15 years since she passed away, a week before Christmas. Thank you for sharing your heart. ❤️
Mandy, thank you for reading my work and taking the time to comment. I appreciate your kind words, though I hate we share this heartbreak. Lifting you in so much comfort and love from afar. xox, Chels
Thank you so much for putting pen to paper and for helping me grieve. I just lost my mom thus September and she was only 65.
I am at a loss right now and I find confirm in your journey. God bless you for your honesty. And may He give you, and all of us whom your writing touched the grace, and confirm we all need.
Sherrie, thank you so much for reading my work and taking the time to write me. I’m so honored to have my words resonate with others, though I hate that it’s because of shared heartbreak and loss. I’m lifting you in so much love, comfort and hope on your grief journey. We are all in this together. xox, Chels
Please replace CONFIRM with COMFORT!!
Sorry I did not check it first. Auto feature sure has a way of messing things up.
Thank you so much. My mother died when I was 5 years old I am 64 years old. She missed everything with me and I still cry and hurt. I have 2 grandchildren my daughter is married and the religion that she is doesn’t celebrate any holidays. We celebrated all holidays with her. The holidays are extremely hard. My God is my hope and peace.
Bernadine, Thank YOU so much for reading my work and taking the time to write me. I’ll be lifting you in fierce comfort, love and hope this holiday season and the start of the new year. xox, Chels