Red

“Beauty that dies the soonest has the longest life. Because it cannot keep itself for a day, we keep it forever. Because it can have existence only in memory, we give it immortality there.”

Twelve years ago today, my mother passed away. She was only 36 and had barely begun to live her life. Death takes away for reasons we cannot know, but it is our job to keep those gone alive in our memories. 

This is something I wrote a few months back while reminiscing about my mom. May her memory live forever.

Her bright red locks, swirling in the wind. Her laughter rising above a crowd. Her smile, lighting up a room. Her outwardness bringing out an inner self. Her charm, lighting up the sky. 

Bits and pieces of my mother float around in my head, threatening to float away. The smell of her pillows. The way she called me “chippy”.  The pistachios she kept in her purse for a mid day snack.  The way she cooked eggs in the microwave when she was in a hurry. Sometimes I can hear her voice, but as quickly as it comes, it is gone, like a memory that never existed. 

I remember the days she would take off of work, so I wouldn’t have to be alone. And not being able to leave the house in fear of receiving grief, as she obviously wasn’t “sick” as she had reported. 

I remember the little things. 

But there is so much that I don’t remember. and so much that is foggy. So much that I will never know. So much that I will never pass on. The woman who gave me life, whose life I know so little about.                                                                                                                        They say that time heals all pain. But time does more than heal. Time assists you in forgetting, whether you want to or not. Time will take your memory and slowly erase it, one fragment at a time.

As the days fly by, as they so quickly do, so too will their memory. Until all that is left is a distant face within a picture; a face you’re sure that you know, but can’t recall the details. A face which you know you loved, but can’t really remember why. 

My mother passed while listening to a message from me, explaining how I had finally lost my tooth. As my message came to an end, so did my mother, my voice the last she would hear; her voice, the first I had ever heard. 

You look into the mirror and ask yourself if this can really be happening. The answer is yes, it can. And it does. And it will continue to happen. Life without death cannot exist. Life and death go hand in hand. The giver and the taker. The beginning and the end.

I only remember bits and pieces of my mother, a lot of which I have learned from childhood videos. And as I grow older, memories like her smell and the sound of her laughter start to fade. And the tears come less frequently. Though in the still of the night, when I’m left alone with my thoughts, my mother sometimes comes to mind. and the emptiness of forgetting sinks in.

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My mom visits me in my dreams occasionally, and I am reminded of what it is I've lost: a mother, a best friend, a confidante. Someone to help pick out my wedding dress, hold my hand when I first give birth, listen when I cry, laugh with me at night. A mother is so precious, and someone that I see so many take for granted. Cherish your mother. She gave and will continue to give you life. For a life without a mother isn't really a full life at all. 

I have been lucky enough to be blessed with an amazing family, who are always there. And the best Dad anyone could ask for. But nothing can ever really fill that void, that emptiness that was made when my mother passed. 

Take no one for granted in your life. Life is so sweet and oh so short. We cannot measure our moments for just as quickly as they come they are gone. 

Time moves on. It doesn't care who comes or goes. It is unfeeling and compassionless. And so too must we move on,  continuing on with our lives and living in the moment, for moments are all we have.

I love you Mommy. May you continue to look down on us from the heavens.

xoxo

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