For those that follow the blog know that my mother and I had a turbulent relationship, to say the least, until the very end of her life. There are so many things I do miss about her.
I miss her laughter, her ridiculous jokes, the madness of her personality, the crazy sayings she would say, her bluntness, her love for my children, and her other grandchildren.
I miss her telling me how much she hated my hair when I cut it, how much she despised my hair any color besides blonde, “because Emmely, God gave you beautiful blonde hair, why would you ruin it with red or brown?”. Her exact words.
I miss her wearing sparkly shoes and a tiara to doctors’ appointments and not caring who judged her for it.
I miss her long, straight, blonde hair, I wanted to cut it off! Her skinny legs, her spitfire personality, and I do miss our disagreements because we always thought we were right, yet the conversation ended with “I love you!”
The things I miss most about my mother have not even happened yet.
I miss that my mother did not witness my niece graduating from high school (her oldest granddaughter), I miss that she will miss her graduation from college. She will miss her wedding day.
I miss the thought of every milestone she is not able to witness for herself with all of her grandchildren.
What I miss the most hurts me to my core.
As my oldest son prepares for the arrival of his first child, my heart is overjoyed, yet breaking at the same time. Just as it did when he proposed to his wife, on his wedding day, and the day he found out he was going to be a father.
My oldest son was extremely close to my mother. He was her rock. She trusted him beyond measure to make her life and end of life decisions. In her eyes, he could do very little wrong.
She was never able to meet his wife.
She is not physically here to witness these moments and share in his joy, see his smile, hug him, laugh with him, support him.
My mom is not going to be here physically to hold Ariyah when she enters this world.
While there are so many things in life that can and will go wrong, mothers are deserving, they are deserving of having the opportunities to be there for their children that need and want them there, their grandchildren the same, and in the case of my mother, when we celebrate the birth of Ariyah, as I cry my tears of joy, I will also being crying tears of the sadness that my mother is not here, with us, to hold Ariyah and hug my son on the day his daughter is born.
In life she did not know how to be a great mother, but, she was a wonderful grandmother when given the chance. Her grandchildren love(d) her. They adored her. She was their comedian, the person they told their secrets to, their protector, and their crazy grandma.
When they visited her they knew they would laugh, eat, and always have someone to confide in.
I know she will always be here in spirit. I am thankful for that.
Always count your blessings, even in times when they feel like a curse. I realize now, maybe, just maybe, God was always trying to teach me something throughout the time with my mother.
Patience, understanding, tolerance, gratitude, and empathy.
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Always Loved and Remembered
Daina Lynn Rice
12/19/1956 – 07/272018