My mom passed away in September after almost a year since her diagnosis with stage III breast cancer.
She was officially diagnosed December 19, 2016, and lost her battle on September 15, 2017.
This will be my first Christmas without her.
Last Christmas I spent all night after a 12-hour shift at Trident Medical Center cooking her a diabetic friendly, all organic Christmas dinner. I was up at 4 o'clock in the morning cooking turkey, cauliflower mashed potatoes, and power grain stuffing. Needless to say, I was exhausted Christmas day and I pretty much passed out over at my mom’s house after Christmas dinner.
After my mom’s funeral, when we were going through her belongings, my brother found a picture from that day on her phone. My mom only had two pictures on her phone by the way. One of my brother playing the piano, and the other one was of me that Christmas night, sleeping on her couch with my fiancé and DJ (my dog). She never told me she took that picture, but it makes me think that she must have been so happy to have us all there that night with her.
God, I can’t even begin to express how much I love and miss her.
And with the Christmas season upon us, it really is bringing all those emotions back to the forefront. My first big hurdle will be this Thanksgiving, because after dinner it was tradition for me and my brother to put up the tree, under the direct supervision of my mom. She always loved to be in charge of those type of things. She would hand out the ornaments for me and Kevin (my brother), to put on the tree. Then she would proceed to tell us which order the stockings on the mantel needed to be hung.
I’m going to miss her nagging at me to get my fiancé a plate of food and that I need to try the newest recipe she made, even though she knew I would say no.
Every time I go to a store and see all the Christmas gifts I think of her and all the things I wish I could get her but now don’t have the chance. I used to promise my mom that I was going to buy her a house one day. I had it in my head that one of these Christmases I would surprise her with a house. That was always the ultimate gift I wanted to give her. . .
It’s going to be hard going back to the same house I grew up in for Christmas and handing out presents without seeing her sitting and smiling in her favorite chair. It’s going to be hard coming into that house and realizing she is not there to give a hug and a kiss, and a “Merry Christmas” to.