In Memory, In Celebration...

     The moon hangs heavy and immense in this cold November sky. It's orange and is peeking down at the world, finally close enough to catch a glimpse of all it's been missing. The look of it sends chills through me, and I love it. 

     You would have loved the moon tonight, Mom. We would have sat underneath it and swapped silly stories and advice like a handful of hot tamales. And I would have cried to you about how hard Motherhood is, and you would have cried to me about how you miss us being that little. 

     Today was hard.  We started a tradition last year of putting up our Christmas tree on this day, decorating it and drinking egg nog and listening to old Christmas music, wrapping ourselves in love and family. Trying to get as far away as possible from the reality that you are not here. But we've been sick and the tree was bought just hours before Trevor went to work. It was a mad dash through stores and a Sunday morning to get all of the items necessary. We made it just in time.

Our ornament for you, Mom

     And then I had to go to the hospital because I was leaking some fluid, and I was scared. And all I could think about as I drove to the hospital all alone was what if my 3 babies survived and I somehow didn't? What would happen to their precious, fragile hearts? Would they be ripped into shreds and stomped on and beaten and haphazardly put back together like the hearts of the ones you left behind? No one could take care of them like I can. No one knows how to Mommy them like I've grown to love how to do. 

     Today was supposed to be a celebration and a happy day, remembering your smile, your giggle, your funny jokes. But the ache, the place in my life where you are supposed to be but are blatantly hurt today. It just hurt. 

     I'm sitting here, thinking, 9 years? 9 years...9 years have passed and still I remember your face as if I had just seen you over lunch. As if I had just heard your voice over the phone telling me to be strong and tough, hold my head high, never let them see me break. I still remember your pudgy feet and your strong arms, your soft hazel eyes and your frizzy brown hair. All of it is still so can it be just a memory?

     Judah has your snort. I was driving home tonight and your grandkids were laughing in the backseat, and he snorted and giggled and it was you and I cried and laughed and remembered every time you snorted and giggled. And I wonder how someone could be so much like you and never even know you, never get to meet you this side of Heaven and how fair is that? 
     The moon fills the sky with an orange glow and it is here, in this moment, in this moonlight, that I remember your life, for your death is too hard to bear. 
     9 years...?

In loving memory of Elizabeth Havens
January 25th, 1965
November 13th, 2002

My Mom and I, 1988


  1. Beautifully written Marybeth. Saying a prayer for your heart, right now!
    <3 you!

  2. My mother passed away October 4, 2010...Most days I'm okay but then I'll have that split second thought that I need to call her about something...and the tears will start. Beautifully written post.

  3. Marybeth, this is beautiful. Bring me to tears beautiful.

    I am so very sorry that you have to relive this pain, not only yearly, but in many passing moments throughout your days.

    Thankfully, you've God, your husband, your sons, your family, and your friends on your side to pray for you, listen to you, hug you, and be there for you when she can't physically do those things.

    It's a beautiful thing, though, that you can see your mother, hear her, and experience her so vividly still, and also, that she is being carried on through your children in tangible ways that you can treasure each day.

    Godspeed. <3

  4. I know that I truly missed out on getting to know a beautiful person, because of how much you miss her. I would have loved to meet someone who has made such an awesome impact of love on those around her.
    Also I am glad that you have the opportunity to remember those little yet important things about her through our children.

    I love you

  5. Hi friend,
    Gave you a blog award, if you wanna stop by and check it out!

  6. This is a beautiful post. Thank you for sharing!! Found your blog through Kassie.

    Digger ~xoxo~

  7. I'm so sorry for your loss.
    I love how you described your mom's "pudgy feet" and "frizzy hair." Those sweet details made her vivid in my mind's eye and tugged on my heart all the more.


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