Today is September 27th. September is almost over, October and the rush of the holidays will soon be upon us.
But, today is a day that stands out. 49 years ago today, my Mom died. I was 11. It was a rainy fall morning when the alarm went off. The kind of morning you wish you could just stay in bed and sleep. My alarm was turned off that morning, by my older sister, whose life had permanently changed just a few hours before. Turning off the alarm in my younger sisters and my room was just her first act of taking care of us. She was 15. Her childhood ended a few hours before, never to be reclaimed.
For years my sisters and I would call or make certain there was a card or letter in the mail on this day. We remember in detail the day and the things that surrounded this day. For years, I think we almost dreaded this day, for once the pain and searing hurt had diminished and we were busy with our families, we knew, on this day, we had to remember. We had to pick open a wound that almost healed.
A few years ago, my older sister once more acted for our good. She said it was time for us to stop our mourning of this day. We agreed with her and since, I know we each remember, but, we do not call one another or email and drag up the memories of that day so long ago.
Most of the time now, I think towards the end of the day, what the day is. My mind will fleetingly go through the events and I sigh, remembering it all.
Today is a day very similar to what the weather was like 49 years ago. It is a darker, rainy day, one that is perfect to stay cuddled up inside. My mind noticed the date and I knew I had to write something.
What I now think about is how much my Mom truly did miss celebrating with her girls. Cancer robbed us of sharing our tears of joy and sorrow with her. Her daughters all married, had children and two of them have grandchildren. Her daughters have all outlived her.
Yes, this is a day to remember sadness in my life, but, I am choosing today to think of the abundant blessings I have had. I am now 60. I have hugged my daughters during their times of joy. I have laughed with them. I have dried their tears. I have held their newborn children. I am a woman who is blessed.
Thanks for stopping by today. DAF
dearanonymousfriend 
Beautiful. It’s hard to know when to stop grieving. I have Emily until she would have turned 21. I still remember, and well always mourn her loss, but there’s a time to stop claiming the day. Your mom would be and probably is so proud.
you are so right, Stacy. There is a time and purpose for it all. Emily would have wanted you to remember her with laughter and joy, the kind only sisters share. Love you.