On October 16, 2021 my Moma turned 62 years old. I nearly missed her birthday because I’m awful with the date, but we were doing mead. When I saw the date, we put everything on hold so we could call her and tell her happy birthday, and then she and I talked for an hour.
We were making plans for her next visit to see us. She’d come the weekend before my birthday, and was coming back in December. We were all looking forward to her retiring so that she could travel with us when we hit the road next year. We were going to see all the amazing places we haven’t seen yet. We had as much fun planning future adventures as we had on our adventures.
She told me that she was four weeks from retirement – November 12, I think. She was so excited about completing her final weeks and getting to Texas. She wanted to be a full time Grammy and she was ready to be done with it. But she had loved her career and – other than her family – is the thing she was always the most proud of.
Moma graduated with her Master’s degree the same year that I graduated high school, so we would have both celebrated 20 years next year. I was always so proud to get to tell people that. My amazing Moma, working her ass off, also got her Master’s degree. She was amazing.
On Sunday, October 17, my sister called me. There was a lot of confusion that dragged on for way too long. I won’t go into a blow by blow. I don’t know if I can. But it culminated in learning that Moma was taken from us. Way too soon.
I’ve grieved harder this last year than I was ever prepared to grieve. But in truth, this is a day I’ve lived in fear of my entire life. I’m sorry to those of my family who have been so amazing – always reaching out to check on me. I’m so very grateful for every time each of you reached out to me. And I wish I could be better about reaching out in turn. I am working on it, but I know I’m not doing great.
This year for Samhain, I’ll be honoring, Moma. I’m really hoping to find some peace on some issues we hadn’t had a chance to work out before we lost her. So, maybe this is my eulogy. I love you, Moma.