Skip to main content

This Wasn't Just A House, It Was HER Home


To those that move in next to this house, they will never know that some of my best and worst moments reside here in those four walls


They will never know that this house is not just any house, it was her home. Filled with the only memories I have left of her


You see that living room, there was a nice couch that took up much of the space. On that very couch, in that very living room is the place she told me she had terminal cancer. That very living room is where my world came to a complete stop


You see that room in the back, that was her room. In that very room was a bed she would lay in sick from treatment. In the corner of that room was a chair that I would sit in many nights, watching closely making sure she was still with me


That bathroom is where I would hold her had on the floor when she was sick and weak. The second bedroom is where I would help her email friends that were out of state to tell them the news that she was terminal


That back porch is filled with the best memories, all the good ones are tied to that little spot in the house. The laughs and long talks before and after she was sick were shared right there. That dining room that is bare now held a table where we sat and wrote out her will word by word, line by line


That kitchen is where she cooked and baked with love. It's where she would make my favorite dish even when there were days she was too sick to stand


To you the person moving in, this house is just a house


To me, this house was a home


A home that housed my grief, a home that sent my world spinning out of control and coming to a complete stop all at once. It was one of the last places I felt her hug and heard her say “I love you forever”


To me, this house was not just a house it was her home

#grief
#motherless
#family

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The 5 Friends You Meet On the Grief Journey

Even though most of my grief journey was a fog at the beginning, I will always remember the friends that were there for me, the friends that were not there for me and the friends that continue to walk this journey with me. I remember a phone call to a close friend the day my mom passed. I cried for a few minutes and then she quickly informed me she was on a family vacation and would need to call me when she returned. That phone call would never come nor would a mention of my grave loss. Then there was the close friend that sent me text messages a month after my loss telling me what a “selfish person” I was. Informing me that I “always backed out and cancelled plans.” Even months later reminding me that she could “not trust because of all the times I cancelled.”  I will never forget that hurt. I suddenly went from grieving the loss of my mother to grieving the loss of friendships. My grief began when my mom became terminal, it changed me and my priorities. I focused on helping my mom …

A Motherless Daughters Advice To Those That Still Have Their Mom

You've heard it all before I 'm sure if you've ever spoken to someone young or old that has lost their own Mom. From the "Tell your Mom you love her" or "Make sure and call her every day." Very sound advice however when you actually lose your Mom those things won't matter. You will know your Mom knew you loved her no matter what, especially if you are a Mom yourself when you lose yours. Calling her everyday will be nice but it won't help you recall the sound of her voice or laughter once she's gone.

Here are a few things I suggest you do and that I wish I had done if you still have your Mom. I wish I had found a list like this when my own Mom was sick.

1. Record videos-Record them of everyday things with her your Mom, with you in it or with just her in it. Record her cooking, tending to a garden, or simply sitting with you. Make sure you get the sound of her voice and catch her contagious laugh on there. You see pictures are great however yo…

Open Letter to Motherless Daughters on Mother's Day

Dear Motherless Daughter on Mother’s Day,
We've never met before but we share the same story. We also share a day that we both want to avoid, skip, and sleep through each year since losing her. It’s Mother’s Day. Once the day is over, I count down the months until the next one. You wonder what life would be like if she was still here on Mother’s Day. For a split second, you plan your day around what she might enjoy doing only to have the wind knocked out of you by realizing she isn’t here. You see the posts of friends with their moms: baking, going out to eat, buying presents, and celebrating joyfully with a smile on their face. You see the mother-daughter pictures and notice the resemblance, and you wonder what she would look like standing beside you now.  
This holiday is an instant reminder that she is not here with you. It’s the moments when the Mother-Daughter Banquet is announced at church; you wish you could go, but you can’t. It’s the time in church when they ask the mothers…