Incomplete

I jerk myself out of bed tonight to write down the words that are pouring from my brain. The are pulling me back to a place that I have chosen to forget about for a while now. I'm too happy being a mother to let myself live these sad feelings. But sometimes it's just stronger than I can withstand. The sad emotions come flooding out of me. Mostly at night when I lay down to go to sleep.

Words over come my brain as I try to sleep. Things I wish I could have said to her. Letters I should have written when I had then chance. 

I find old birthday cards with her delicate handwriting on them and I find myself 8 years old again watching her write notes to remind herself of new words she had learned.

After my mother died, I went through her desk just looking at her things. It was her new desk at the new house. A new desk with a new mac computer.  I never knew her there. I only remember the old desk at the old house. The old desk that had her old IBM laptop on it. The old desk that kept her bobbles and such. Her address books and pencils and note cards. I went through her new desk at the new house just hoping to find something she had perhaps written to me. Maybe a letter or a note. Just something telling me something I didn't know. I hoped to find the letter that would tell me everything I would ever need to know. But of course, this would never happen as my mother didn't know she was going to die. Letters like these are only written when you know...

Before Max was born I often questioned myself why I even kept this blog anymore. It started out as something fun to pass the time. A journal of silly thoughts I had about living in France. But as the years have gone by (I have been at this for over 4 years now) I have found my blog to be a way for me to record my life.  There are so many little things I have forgotten. And now I hope that someday Maximilien and perhaps my other children will have a place to read my thoughts and dreams. And they won't be left wondering if I had left them the letter somewhere in my messy desk drawer.

I feel torn between two worlds right now. My present life and the life that stopped violently the day my mother died. Part of me feels like this is a vicious dream that will never end. I dig through the sheets trying to claw my way to the surface only to find that I am still asleep and unable to awaken myself. The other part of me is living the happy life that I am destine to live. Mother, Wife, Friend, Daughter, Sister. I am these things. But underneath I am sad. Very sad. And incomplete.

Comments

[Kelly]

Aimee,

Your words are so moving. I feel horable for your terrible loss. I find myself tearing up as I think about what would happen to my if I had lost my mother. My mother is my biggest supporter and without her I don't know if I would be able to handle many of the stresses of being a stay at home mom. My heart aches for you.
I just want you to know that (through you wonderful blog) I think you are an amazing mother and think your own mother would be very proud. I find inspiration from your mothering; whether it is making your own baby food, or even the wonderful photos you take of you son. It seems like it is so easy to get caught up in the day to day stuff and forget about those important things. Your blog always helps me to remember something important to do. Today it will be to give thanks for my mother and tell her I love her.

Take care of yourself.
Kelly

[Emska]

Aimee, I have been reading your blog for some time but tonight I feel moved to comment. I can identify with all those vivid feelings you are experiencing but I want you to know that they are ever so normal and you will emerge stronger for acknowledging them and moving forwards. It hurts tremendously to not be able to share precious moments, past and present with your mom but just because she isn't here in person doesn't mean you can't chat to her, so to speak! And I think your blog will surely be a beautiful record for your family to reflect upon in days and years to come. You are doing a beautiful job Aimee and your mom would be beaming with pride if she saw you now. Rest well and hug your boys. All will be well in the end.
Em

[Stephanie]

Aimee, I lost my father on April 24 of this year... 4 days before I had scheduled a visit to go home and see him. He was diagnosed with colon cancer in 2005 and spent 3 months in the hospital from March - May of that year. I remember him telling me about his diagnosis. He was strong, well informed, and positive about his treatments. In 2006, things shifted in his life with one of his closest friends and one of my aunts (to whom he was very close) died. 2006 was a year of depression and slow decline for my father. For me, 2007 was a year in which I vowed to make up for all the losses in my life. (I am divorced without children).

During the couple months before my father's death, I was so busy interviewing for a new job which I secured. My father and I always talked about how much I wanted a job that would take me to Paris. I was in the middle of the interview process when he died, and I finally went to Paris for a month of training. My father died at home in his bed... in his sleep. When I went home for his funeral, I found a symbol he left for me... something only he and I understood. It was his message to me that he knew I would get the job of my dreams. Since his death, I have received many communications from him. Our loved ones visit us during our sleep, and I sense that your mother was visiting to tell you how proud of you she is... being such a terrific mother to Max and a great wife to Julien. I also believe she knows how important your blog is to you, and in many ways... your blog is a tribute to your mother and to your family.

Like others have said, I am so moved by your blog. I have followed it now for over a year, and sometimes I am reduced to tears when I read your entries and view your photos.

I have commented in the past... but I really felt compelled to open up this evening. The loss of a parent is never easy. I knew my father was dying slowly... and I felt so upset that I was not in the room when he died. I think the message in all of this for us is that life is in the here and now. Every moment is so precious. It is wonderful that you have this time off to be a full-time mother with your first child.

Thank you for sharing your words and photos with all of us.

[Jenny Betters]

Hi Aimee,
I'm the mother of two beautiful children.
I have a loving husband.
And I too feel incomplete. My mother died just under two years ago.
I miss her more that I ever knew possible.
I see her in my kids eyes, I hear her in thier laughter.
I know it is because of her that I am a loving and passionate mama!
I feel her strength in me.
I luxuriate in being a stay at home mom, and allow myself time for sadness and grief. I trust my cycle of grief, and know that they pass.
Hold that baby of yours, and trust YOUR cycles of grief.
Your mother's love is with you always and forever.
Feel your heart break, and know you have your mother's strength to handle it.
Best regards-Jenny

[Alice]

Aiméé, my thoughts are with you... The words that others have shared with you here above express much more eloquently the things I would like to say as well. I, too, am very often moved by the words, images and emotions you share with us here on your blog, and I agree that it is a beautiful tribute to your family. You are surrounded by love, and your mother's spirit is with you at all times... She is most certainly very proud of you! All my best to you, and take good care. Bises!

[The Bold Soul]

You know we have talked about this: there is no time limit on grief. It is not something you have to "get over". You are allowed to feel sad, if you feel sad about losing your mother so abruptly, on any given day at any given moment. And you are allowed to go from that sadness to joy at all the good things your life. You can even feel them both at the same time. Being able to let yourself feel the loss, while at the same time reveling in the wonderful life, love and family you have created with Julien and Max, and all your friends here in Paris, is the mark of someone who has achieved a very high level of personal and spiritual growth. So don't try and make it be other than it is. You will always feel sad about your mother. But living your life and being happy is how you are also honoring her.

[erin]

Aimee...I miss you.

[dongurigal]

You've written such a moving tribute to your mom--just the idea that she would be the one to tell you everything you need to know about life. I feel that way about my mom and I fear the day when I can't turn to her for her wisdom.

Please take care.

[ep]

your words, though difficult, are an inspiration. thanks for reminding us of what we fear to lose, and what we fear to neglect.

[aloha no]

Yes :( This was what I needed to read today. . .so many moments I feel stunted, while my daughter is growing beautifully up. I feel less alone in my sadness today.

Your blog is not only a lovely gift to your child/ren, but also to me and other broken-hearted daughters who are on their knees missing their beautiful mothers.

[Mary Anne]

Hugs to you...

Mary Anne

[simplicity]

Your post hit me hard. My mother is dying. She was diagnosed in May and is fighting a good fight but we don't have long left and I dread it. I don't want to be incomplete. I don't want to spend the rest of my days missing her. I don't want to have to tell my children her stories and who she was and what she did. I want her.

Thanks for your post, for your honesty. Sometimes its just what someone needs to read.

[Emma]

Oh! I wish it did not have to hurt so strongly, but it must be awful. I imagine she would stretch out her arms across the oceans for you and your family if she could.

I called my mom when I had read your post. I just missed her. And felt so enormously lucky to be able to reach her. Thank you for reminding me of the importance to show my love for her while I can!

Are we not always looking for completion, to be a better woman and hoping that love will heal us all? I know I am guilty. And I know you are not alone.

[Natalie]

Truly, you are not incomplete, but are complete. You mother will live on through you, and then your child(ren) and then your grandchildren. You are doing a great job at keeping her spirit alive.

[Joy]

Dear Aimee, reading this gave me a very painful lump in my throat. I'm so sorry you're hurting, that you're missing your mama. I think it's the most primal sadness, if that makes any sense: it's the most fundamental and the saddest of all life's hurts. Try to be glad that you had a wonderful relationship with her, and a closeness. It's something I've never had with my mother, and I've tried. I've tried for such a long time without success, that I can't do it any more.

Squeeze that sweet baby...

xoxo

[Katherine]

I am sure that your mother is looking out for you and carrying through any sad, difficult times. You are blessed to be able to experience motherhood yourself and I bet that now that you have Max in your life, you certaintly know that for all eternity your love will be always with him. The same thing happens with your mother's love, it is always there even at when you are blinded by pain, sadness and grief. A mother's love never goes away.

You're blessed in more ways that you will ever understand even it it does hurt.

[Jenny Rebecca]

Oh God bless you. My heart goes out to you. I have not been in your shoes...but I fear it more than anything. Hug your baby and your husband.

[Andrea]

I miss my mom too. She died on March 9, this year. She only became sick a little more than a year ago. She was so wise and loving and beautiful. My heart breaks over again every day when I remember that I can't talk to her, or hold her hand anymore. I'm so sorry you lost your mom. It's so hard to know what we're doing without them.

I laminated a little note she sent me, telling me that she loved me. It was a small thing, written years ago on a post it. But I keep it in my wallet, with me all the time.

[Andrea]

I miss my mom too. She died on March 9, this year. She only became sick a little more than a year ago. She was so wise and loving and beautiful. My heart breaks over again every day when I remember that I can't talk to her, or hold her hand anymore. I'm so sorry you lost your mom. It's so hard to know what we're doing without them.

I laminated a little note she sent me, telling me that she loved me. It was a small thing, written years ago on a post it. But I keep it in my wallet, with me all the time.

[the fabulous adventures of sarah]

Thank you for writting such a wonderful touching blog about your mother. It has moved me to tears honestly and I just think you are amazing.

I say you just think and feel whatever you need to and you will continue to heal in your own time.

Max is a lucky boy to have such a sensative and caring mother.

Love from Maine.