Loss

The subconscious is a weird thing. As if the first time I lost my mom wasn’t enough, sometimes when I go to sleep I get to repeat the process. Last night, I was going through the steps of informing my siblings and the preacher about mom’s passing, calling the funeral home, making arrangements, determining schedules. Reliving the past, but not the best parts, over and again…a song full of heartache and pain stuck on repeat.

I want to dream about my mom. I want to see her smiling as the sun rises over the water. Laughing as Dot zooms through the house. Looking at my dad with so much love and admiration in her eyes. Hear her telling me she loves me.

Sometimes my heart overrides my brain, and I get to relive the good moments while I sleep. Sometimes, but never enough. All too often I wake up with a tear-streaked face because I have walked through the hardest parts of my life again. I wake up and immediately realize my mom is gone, never coming back. Still, there are times when I wake up and feel her love; wrapped around me like the fuzzy blanket she gave me on my last birthday with her. Sometimes at night we get to go on a ride trip, sit on the beach, or visit the snow cone stand…these are the moments to which I cling. These small glimpses of the past are worth the tears from the heartbreaking memories.

I’ll keep dreaming. Visiting with my mom while I sleep- through the good and the bad… That’s how life is. Sweet moments to treasure mixed in with times that bring you to your knees. The weight of a teardrop is heavy, even in your dreams…

Copyright © Kelly Hobbs 2023

It’s in the quiet times that I feel her absence. She was a part of my every day life and it’s going to take a while for me to figure out my new normal.

Copyright © Kelly Hobbs 2023

When you lose someone you love, it’s more than just an emotional loss. The love you once felt from them is gone. The loss of their love leaves a hole in you that you can feel emotionally and physically. Your world gets smaller. The people on this earth that know and truly love you decreases. That absence is what hurts. Knowing there is no one that will ever love you the same way they did. This knowledge is what causes unbearable pain, and there is no remedy. As your world shrinks, you adjust, and learn to live with the ache that never goes away.

Copyright © Kelly Hobbs 2023

If I had the chance to get 5 more minutes of your time, I know just what I’d say. I’d tell you how much I love you and how not a single day passes that I’m not missing you, but I wouldn’t want you to come back to live with sickness and pain. I’d tell you how glad I am that you’re finally healed and whole. I’d tell you I love you. I’d tell you how I was never angry or frustrated with you, but the effects your illness was having on your body and mind. How it broke my heart to watch my mom slowly being robbed from me by an illness she didn’t deserve. I’d tell you I love you. I’d tell you how I needed to control your doctors visits and medications so that I felt like I was helping you be with me longer. Controlling an illness for which there was no cure. I’d tell you I don’t regret one minute spent in the hospital, doctor’s office, or one mile driven from appointment to appointment. I’d tell you I love you. I’d tell you I hope one day I can be half the woman you were. I’d tell you your animals are doing fine. I’d tell you I talk to you all the time. I’d tell you I’d give anything to go get a snow-cone with you. I’d tell you I miss you so much it physically hurts. I’d tell you I love you, and then I’d say goodnight because we never did goodbyes.

Copyright © Kelly Hobbs 2023

Anger looks like the cracked, golden smear of mustard on the wall after the kitchen table was flipped over in rage.

Anger looks like the shining butt of a pistol held in your mother’s hand as she tells your father to leave the house.

Anger looks like the hot anger radiating from your drunken father’s eyes because you were too slow to bring him a beer.

Anger looks like the tear streaked face of a child screaming at an unhearing God asking him, “Why?”

Anger looks like a broken strand of pearls ripped from your mother’s neck in a fit of furry by her loving husband.

Anger looks like a melted ice cream sundae discarded in the trash by him because “she doesn’t need it.”

Anger looks like the tear settling on your mother’s cheek because he’s locked you out of your house.

Anger sounds like the pop of can top, the spew from a bottle, the clink of ice in a glass.

Anger sounds like the words you say to your doctor as you ask to be checked because he was unfaithful.

Anger feels like the cold tile pressed to your cheek as you collapse on the floor from the news of the birth of their baby.

Anger feels like the knot in your stomach as you see him one last time in court.

Love….love looks like the smile of a child.

Love looks like a glass full of buttermilk.

Love looks like a four-legged friend cuddled close.

Love looks like the first dance of a couple starting their forever.

Love feels like his arm in yours as he walks his daughter down the aisle.

Love feels like the hug that was long delayed in childhood-finally received by the adult child.

Love feels like the warmth in your mother’s hand as you cling to her while she slips from this world.

Love looks like adding water to the canned chili so everyone has a share.

Love looks like a table full of food prepared by family on the holidays.

Love sounds like the giggle of a baby.

Copyright © Kelly Hobbs 2023

On someone’s “angelvesary” people normally take the time to honor a loved one’s date of passing. They say things like I can’t believe it’s been such and such many years, I miss you every day, it seems like forever since I heard your voice or saw your sweet smile.

Daddy, I can’t believe it’s been four years that you’ve been gone from this earth. I dearly miss being able to converse with you, but, I see you and I hear you so often. I see you in the first steps of a newborn calf that you taught me to appreciate. I see you smiling in the budding out of the trees you loved so much. I see your sparkling eyes, full of knowledge, as I assess our herd. I hear your voice as I’m helping Monroe wean calves- watching the set of that younger cow’s ears, your harsh whisper, “Watch her.” I hear you laughing as I round up baby chicks that are too young to know to go to roost. I hear your soft “I love you” in the gentle falling rain. I still miss you dearly, but I’m surrounded by you all the time…the knowledge you shared, lessons learned, and your never-ending love always surrounds me. I can’t believe it’s been four years because you’re with me all the time. 💙

Copyright © Kelly Hobbs 2023

Here we are, one year later. I survived a year of firsts…first Christmas, first birthday, first Easter, first everything without you. I’ve been slaying each dragon as it approaches. Doing whatever I had to just to get through it, past it. It’s only been a year, but it feels like a lifetime. Maybe because of all the changes I see in myself. Learning how to navigate a world that is so much darker without you in it. I’ve learned to let myself cry when I need to. I’m learning how to navigate the sea of emotions that sometimes flood my senses out of the blue.

I feel like I’ve aged so many years in just this one. I feel like I lost part of who I was…I was your daughter and now you’re gone. I’ve been an adult for a while now, but there is a certain maturity that happens when you lose your mom. It is a bizarre phenomenon. One may be an adult, but there is a true transformation when you become an adult without a parent. It’s difficult to put in to words- even more difficult to experience.

I was so concerned that your loss would change me. Scared even. Worried I would lose the parts of me that I value most- my joy-my childlike adoration of nature’s beauty- my sensitive heart and giving spirit. Your loss has changed me in so many ways. I’m still who I was- but different. And the truth is: I don’t even care.

So, I’ll keep fighting the dragons. I look to the future and see so many on the horizon. There are rough seas ahead, but you’ve taught me how to survive. I’ve done just that- survived a year of firsts. I am a strong woman that was raised by a strong woman. She gave me roots to keep me grounded and wings to fly. Nothing I face can be as hard as losing you. I survived.

Copyright © Kelly Hobbs 2023

This morning I was running errands, rushing around trying to make myself presentable for being seen by the public. Lest I have a repeat of the inside out shirt incident…still shudder at that fashion fatality. Anyway, I have an appointment at noon, so I leave the house in plenty of time…don’t want to be late.

I was almost to my destination when I see flashing lights heading towards me. I’m on the opposite side of a four lane highway. The police cruiser is going slowly with all lights blaring-followed just as slowly by an all white hearse. The line of cars behind the car of honor all had hazards flashing, indicating they were part of the mournful parade.

Out of respect, I pulled onto the shoulder of the road and paid my respects in the only way I could for this unknown soul. I waited patiently for the final car in the line- another police cruiser with flashing lights.

Yes, I was in a hurry. Yes, I had places to be. But as I sat there, I couldn’t help but think of all the people in the passing cars that surely would rather be anywhere but in that police-led line. Anywhere but heading to a cemetery to bid a final farewell to a loved one, friend, coworker, acquaintance…

So I sat there. Waited patiently. You see, I realize we are all in a hurry- we’ve got places to go, people to see, things to do…until we don’t. We rush and rush through this life adhering to schedules and timelines until we are being carried as the Grand Marshal of our own fairwell tour. I’m in no hurry to get there. I’ve got places to see, people to love, and things I want to accomplish. When it’s time for my parade, I want the people patiently waiting on the shoulder of the road to take the time to slow down for a minute. Take a breath. Appreciate the time they still have while they have it. Because one day, we’ll all be the guest of honor at a final farewell and all that rushing will slow to a crawl for a few moments for the ones we love. All the hurrying will be for naught…

Slow down now. Don’t wait. Acknowledge this life and the beauty that surrounds you while you’re here to enjoy it.

Copyright © Kelly Hobbs 2023

There was a glass sitting on the table by the bed you used to sleep in. You haven’t slept there since April 10, 2022. The kids brought it to me because they didn’t know why it was there. I put it in the sink to wash. I still haven’t. I rinsed out the remnants of whatever beverage you had- probably orange juice for your blood sugar, but there on the rim was a kiss left by your lipstick. Part of you that I can hold on to. Never wash away, never fade, never gone. I put it on a high shelf hidden away from everyone else. One day, someone will find it and think I didn’t know how to properly wash dishes. They’ll either throw it out, or scrub it away. But I won’t. I can’t. To others it’s just a dirty glass, but to me, it’s the last goodnight kiss I’ll ever get from my mom.

Copyright © Kelly Hobbs 2023