Two Years Without Mom

Dear Mom,

In the blink of an eye, it’s been 2 years since you passed away. I miss you, so, so much.

I still get surprised by the grief sometimes; it catches me off guard, like a random rain cloud on an otherwise sunny day. But as April and May approached, it felt more like the storm on the horizon: no matter how bright the day, I could sense the approaching darkness.

And so we are here – two years later, with another year of celebrations and loss and laughter and hugs and tears. You missed your 57th birthday, your 35th wedding anniversary, and so much more.

You’d love hearing about my triathlon adventures – the challenges, the workouts, the weekend activities, the race experiences, and most importantly, the friendships. You’d have cheered us all on from afar – telling me to call as soon as I could after I finished, to tell you all about it. You also would have comforted me over the disappointments, telling me to keep my chin up.

It’s made me reflect on all of the years of cross country and track races that you and dad attended (watching teenagers run in circles for hours on end? I didn’t think about that at the time!) Not everyone has had the love and support of their parents, and I’m thankful for that every day.

You would have enjoyed seeing the pictures from the hike to Macchu Picchu, and hearing the stories about the people we hiked with as well as the Peruvians whose paths we crossed along the way. And you’d have probably been a little jealous of the ladies’ beach vacation to the Dominican Republic – there was no outdoor activity you enjoyed more than floating in the ocean.

And you’ve missed another year of stories about Max – the little furry buddy who has only gotten more sassy since you’ve been gone (we all know who was more strict in the Wichman household!)

One day, perhaps, I’ll be able to wrap my head around never seeing you again; most days, I still can’t quite grasp it. It seems too enormous, and just plain wrong.

There is still a Dona-sized piece missing. It will be gone forever, and the greatest comfort is that it was there to begin with. I’ve come to understand that loving anything and anyone will certainly bring about sadness and grief. And the choice is clear: love anyway. It is worth it, and in the end, it’s what makes life worth living.

I love you, always.

Going to see the Brew Crew

Happy to take any comments!