Mother's Day, and Saying Goodbye

Yesterday I met with my family to lay my sweet Mommom to rest. She passed a summer shy of her 96th birthday. As we drove to the burial site I couldn't help noticing the enormous, pink flowered trees surrounding the mausoleum. It felt like they were there just for her, a final goodbye as she gracefully left this world to reunite with all of the people she loved who passed before her.

Edna was both beautiful inside and out. She seemed to make lifelong friends out of everyone she encountered, and had this incredible ability to be everyone's "Mommom." She was fiercely loyal and protective of her family, and feisty in the most unexpected way. She would meet each day with a fancy outfit, impeccable hair, and a face full of makeup. She made hard work look graceful, and never seemed to complain unless I didn't call her enough. She'd greet me with kisses all over and cover my face in bright pink lipstick (and not in a gross way, in the best way). She hated when my hair wasn't blonde, but still always managed to make me feel like the prettiest girl in the world. She loved the color pink, just like Vale and I do, and she made it a lifestyle. Pink carpet, pink garbage bags, pink Christmas, pink utensils, pink clothes, etc. She loved throwing parties (sound familiar?) and was the best hostess you could imagine. She opened her home up to the entire neighborhood and they became her family, too. Some of my fondest childhood memories were swimming in her pool, eating chips and French onion dip, and scarfing down her famous mocha cupcakes. She was an incredible seamstress, and made bathing suits for my sister and I, matching holiday dresses, and every Halloween costume us kids ever wore. Every year I got more and more elaborate in my costume choices and every year she would make something more beautiful than I could have imagined in my head. She had the best sense of humor, and I was able to say the most depraved things that popped into my head and be met with laughter. She really got me, and as I grew older and had a child of my own I was able to connect with her on a different level, one based on true friendship. We would talk on the phone for hours and I always felt heard, validated, and supported. She lost her daughter, my aunt, too soon and I lost my mother, her daughter-in-law, too soon; it was like we were able to connect in a deeper way with those shared losses.

Mother's Day is just around the corner, and the presence of the women who raised me is felt so strongly. When I pulled down my Dad's driveway the other day I saw that the tulips my mother planted are still blooming, lining the path to my childhood home. I see them every year at this time, and they remind me that the echos of unconditional love are forever. I imagine that each spring, when the trees with the pink flowers blossom for just a short while, I'll feel Mommom shining down on me, too.

So today's post is for the women I've loved, who have taught me to see the good in everyone, to be authentically myself, to be snarky if I feel like it, and unafraid of apologizing when I need to; they've taught me to be emotionally strong, but that it's never wrong to feel what you feel; they've shown me that, whether short or long, your life affords you the opportunity to impact others, so be mindful of the way you treat people. Most importantly, they've shown me how to love with every fiber of my being, because no matter what happens... love is never a waste of time. The way you made people feel is the only thing that never dissipates.

Until we meet again.

xoxo

Alyssa

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