Somehow I’ve made it seven months without my momma. I have gratitude for my faith, my family, and my friends. And, the miracle is and was my momma.
I wrote a poem today. I don’t write poems often, but it feels right today.
“How I Miss Her So” by Jessica Adam
Seven months ago today
I spent the day with my momma
Twelve whole hours with her
at home.
Time since then
has been like a magician’s hat,
some days disappearing monumentally fast,
some days so still they
wouldn’t budge.
The shock of loss is still intense,
appropriate, I suppose.
I had her for 50 years.
I miss her texts with pictures of her pets,
her asking for pictures of my son,
and her whistle.
She was always whistling.
Can’t believe it’s been seven months
since I held her hand
and kissed her cheek.
My, how I miss her so…
I know I’ve told you a million and one times that parent loss is extremely hard. It shakes the leaves and rattles the roots. The amount of tears that have fallen feel like infinity plus ten, plus a hundred, plus a thousand.
Though not endless.
Yesterday I didn’t cry. Today I am.
I wonder how this will feel seven months from now and seven months after that. The same, I suppose.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the idea of how quickly she was gone. Or how sick she got so fast. I’m guessing that will never ever ever make sense.
But, my hope is, that by writing this, when I reread it a year or five from now, that I will SEE the strength I had.
Strength is so fleeting in this. Some days it feels nonexistent. Others days, I feel solid enough to listen to other people talk about their losses.
It has truly been a ‘raw, emotional, learning, hard, heartbreaking, sad, love filled, people-have-shown-up-for-me, I can’t believe I’m doing this’ kind of seven months.
If you are going through a loss of your own, as always, my heart goes out to you.
Thanks for being here.
P.S. I just went outside to take these pictures and saw three deer in our freshly cut back field. Miracles.
Jessica


©️ COPYRIGHT 2022 Unmeasured Journeys
** photographs taken by me
❤️
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That is a very moving poem you have written here Jessica.
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Thank you, Linda. Shortest hospice ever, well I ever heard of. 12 hours is so fast. But, we savored every second. I miss my momma, as you already know. ❤️
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I was told around noon that my mom would not survive 24 hours after the perforated bowel diagnosis in the E.R. – the doctors were right. She passed away 13 hours later.
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Oh noooooo! I’m so sorry!!!! :(((((
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Thank you – so, yes, I know exactly how you feel.
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That’s a lovely, heart-felt poem, Jessica! I think you’re right that writing down your emotions leaves a recording that you’ll want to read in later years. And remember, every day that you grieve and don’t completely fall apart mean you are strong! Some days you will feel stronger than others, but when your heart hurts, the simple act of getting out of bed in the morning takes strength. Hang in there, and be gentle with yourself….you deserve it!
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Aww. Thank you, Ann. If I could fill this whole space with hearts, I WOULD. I love what you said SO MUCH. I didn’t think about the getting out of bed as being strong or not completely falling apart thing as strength. Some days strength feels so far off the grid, it’s just outside of reach. But, I’m guessing it’s been in there, the whole time. Like Dorothy’s red shoes. ❤️
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I’m trying the heart thing: ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
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You are so sweet! And yes, the strength has been in you the whole time!
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I got so lucky that we found each other’s blogs however many years ago. You’ve been a pillar through this grief of my momma. I won’t forget it. 🌻
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I am so sorry you are struggling Jessica. We have been dealing with a loss (in September) and it seems like every night when we go to bed and every morning it is the first thing we think about. I know it will get better with time. I hope your pain eases with time too. 🥰
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Hi Diane, I’m sorry to hear you had a loss in September. Big hugs to you. I understand the thinking about in the morning and at bedtime thing. And, all the other times in between. Time is tricky in this- one on hand, they say things get easier with/in time. But, on the other hand, the farther time goes- the longer it’s been since we’ve seen them….. I’m not sure if your experience is similar, but the missing her has been bigger than I could have imagined. I mean, I knew I’d miss her, but my goodness, the amount? Whew, parent loss is some huge thing. Reminds me of those dunk tanks- just sitting there, looking around and bam! That ball hits the drop-you-in-the-water-lever. Not ready is an understatement. Thank you for commenting. Means a lot. ❤️❤️❤️
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Such a beautiful poem. This is such an “out of the heart” poem – I can read and see your emotions in your words. My mom is still with us (for 50 years now) and I’m very grateful for that. But my dad passed away 8 years ago … and even now, 8 years later, there are still some sad days when I’m thinking of him. But it’s getting easier to laugh about the silly things he sometimes said – I suppose time (and the immense support from our loved ones) is what carrying us through days like these.
Sending you much love 🌸.
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Hi. Thank you for commenting, that’s very sweet. “out of the heart” poem is such a compliment, thank you very much. Sometimes things about loss can feel very intimate- not easily shared, it’s the first I’ve written of having those twelve hours or holding her hands and kissing her cheek. The words mean a lot to me.
I’m sorry to hear about your dad. Time in this parent loss thing is so strange. Passing days can feel like minutes or they can feel like forever. 8 years may seem like a blink. I’m happy to hear it’s getting easier to laugh.
I love your comments. I bet you’re right about the carrying. Hugs about your dad. My parents were married 55 years. Seems we have the opposite. You have your mom, I have my dad. But, we’ve both had a big loss it sounds like. ❤️🌻❤️
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Your photos are marvelous. Your poem spoke to me, too.
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Hi Anne. Thank you so much. And, I’m very happy/comforted in knowing that my poem spoke to you, too. Bless you.
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Jessica, I wish I could spend another day with you. Healing isn’t a linear process. It’s two steps forward; one step back. The best you can do is get through each day as best as you can – and give yourself some grace. Seven months is not long at all. You were very lucky to have her for 50 years and have such a loving relationship. Take care, and have a good day. Did your momma like the Fall?
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She loved all the seasons. Her heart belonged to the outdoors. To sunny skies, mountain tops, waterfalls, and wind. Horses and animals were her thing. Anything nature related, really. Especially the moon. 50 years is long, but I wanted 70. Had plans for the next 20 years. You’re right, on the two steps forward thing. Grief certainly has many steps and missteps. Learning as I go. Another day to see each other would’ve been nice. Thank you for your sweet comments. I appreciate it.
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