One Year.

As the one year anniversary of my Mother's death approaches this Thursday, I can't help but reflect on how much has changed.

How much I have changed.

How much the events of this past year have changed me.

Killed me.

Made me reborn.

Made me less jaded. More proactive. Put me in charge of a whole hell of a lot. Made me more acutely aware.

Some days I feel like it isn't real.

Whenever my phone rings I half expect it to be my Mom.

Then other days it feels like years have already passed where I have been on my own.

To have been forced to grow up in a way I could have never have understood, since most would have assumed I was already there. I am aware that the World sees me as technically an adult.

But imagine this.

You are an only child with no family close. You have lost both parents. You are now responsible for 2 households since your husband conveniently moved out after telling you he no longer loved you or wanted to put up with you. Having to be back and forth with lawyers, accountants, bankers, drowning in paperwork.

Paying bills. Lots of them. Trying to stay on top of all that you needed to.

Trying to figure out what you need to get in order.

For your Mom, for yourself, for your kids.

This new situation leaving you with a lions share of the day to day tasks of raising three children. Three children who lost their Grandmother, and then their idea of what was a family. Imagine trying to be their emotional support system while you are falling apart.

All the while you are trying to juggle a million balls.

Imagine that.

Imagine doing all of this while being void of immediate emotional support and love.

No one there to hold your hand.

Give you a pep talk. Be a much needed support system.

And it all happened before you were 42. That is young. Too young.

But there was nothing you could have done that would have changed the course.

You just needed to be able to pivot, and you did the best you could.

Not perfect, but as good as you could muster under the circumstances.

You pick yourself up, dusted yourself off and go forward. Not having the faintest clue what was waiting for you.

Waiting for your new life to be revealed.

Knowing you can only trust the process. A process you cursed off. A process you cried going through. A process you questioned within an inch of your life.

But as I sit here almost one year later, my faith in humanity restored, I am able to smile again.

Laugh.

Love.

Think clearly.

Something I was sure a year ago, would never happen again.

So while I miss my Mother terribly, and plan on celebrating her life this Thursday.

I also find myself remembering the old me. The me that died nearly one year ago with her passing and the dissolution of a marriage.

The me that I didn't realize needed to die in order to grow.

To become better. Stronger. Wiser.

I plan on honoring and celebrating my Mother's life this week, but I also plan on enjoying this new confident me.

A me who demands respect, admiration, truth, empathy, love.

A me that would make my Mother proud.

I can't wait to see where she goes.

Xoxo,

C.