I haven’t written anything in a really long time. I honestly haven’t written anything since I wrote my mom’s eulogy and spoke at her funeral. I’ve struggled in areas with having the energy, the spark, or even the will to WANT to write what is on my heart- because if you know me, you know there is always something on my heart.
I was working on my Mother’s Day collages for LikeToKnow.It today. I was prepping for one giant blog post compiling different aesthetics for different moms. I got on one of my favorite sites where I purchase lots of gifts, and I scrolled right across the gift I had gotten my mom for Christmas back in December. Ever feel like time stops and the world is still, and even though people are moving and talking around you, you are suddenly in quick sand on the brink of your heart ceasing to beat? I had one of those moments today as my hand swiped past the $14 mug.
You’re probably wondering why the mug holds any relevance, but it does. I purchased it with the intention that I would give it to my mom on Christmas. I purchased it with the intention that my mom was coming off the ventilator. I purchased it with the intention that my mom would get better. I purchased it with the intention of giving it to her, although after Christmas, but I would definitely be giving it to her along with her other gifts. I purchased it with the intention that we would have another conversation, and she could marvel at the fact that it was her favorite colors- turquoise and gold. I purchased it with the intention that we would hear her laugh. I purchased it with the intention of my optimistic faith. I purchased it with the intention that it would touch her hands.
Do you want to know one of the most painful feelings in the world? Returning a gift you cannot give because the person is no longer alive. That wasn’t a pain I thought I’d experience with grief. I tried to return the pajamas I bought her to go with the mug, but I just ended up sitting in the Nordstrom Rack parking lot thinking of how insane this was. I knew I probably wasn’t the first or the last to return a gift I never got to give, but the entire concept was so foreign and really just too much to bear. So I still have the pajamas, and I still have this special mug. In fact it has been on my dresser since the day she passed away.
I remember the mug was sitting on my dresser before I went to the hospital. Walter and Becca had tried to pick up the house since we had the wedding the next day; there was still so much to do which looking back was the best thing at the time. With the intention to help, it got stuck in the top dresser drawer. I noticed it as soon as I got home. I opened the drawer, and I stuck the mug right on top. The mug has sat there until 72 hours ago when I finally wrapped it up and put it away in a box with other items of my mothers. And today, I scrolled right across it on my phone screen.
I don’t know why it happened. I can’t make things make sense. I just know things like this don't just happen.... In my mind the mug should have been well past sold out at this point, perhaps even on clearance. But I am going to put a picture and a link to the mug in this post for you to purchase for your own mothers. Maybe reflecting on her giggle when she takes a sip of her favorite tea or coffee or the gleam in her eye when she reads the front. I have a lump in my throat as I write this, but please purchase it with the beautiful intention that your own mom will hold the mug in her hands for years to come. Purchase the mug with the intention that you will make beautiful memories and set aside your differences if you have any. Purchase the mug because even though it is JUST $14, it could be the mug that reminds you both to laugh often, love much, and live as well as you can.
Link to the mug below:
My disclaimer to anything I ever write about my mother is this: My mom and I were not the closest in my adult years. I remember my mom best when I was a child, from what I can remember. But we talked every day for the last 3 months of her life, and I am going to treasure those months as well as my entire childhood that I can remember fondly. But I do not want anyone pointing the finger at me as though I am painting a perfect relationship, because it was so far from.
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