Roberta L. Starzynski Collier (Sept 21, 1933 – June 20, 2007)
Mother’s Day is tomorrow. It’s not really my favorite day of the year. Anymore. Not since my Mom died. In fact, most major holidays pretty much suck the big one for me, because the one person I want to be with the most isn’t here anymore.
Loss. Grief. Missing someone. It’s a funny thing. The process is so incredibly different for everyone. The pain, for sure, never goes away. You kind of just get numb. You know the day you’re dreading (their birthday, Mother’s/Father’s Day, Christmas, blah, fucking, blah blah blah) is coming and you begin to change. You get a little edgy. You’re quicker to cry when the Barista at Starbucks makes your double tall, six pump, no foam, vanilla latte WITH foam! ARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!
It’s like all the emotions you’re feeling are charging at you like an angry, raging bull in Pamplona looking for the nearest, slowest runner to trample. That would be me the last few days.
But, I digress. Let me pull my big girl panties up now. Sheesh! Get your shit together already girl!
I could go on and on about how wonderful and awesome and amazing my Mom was. I could tell a thousand stories of all the great “Mom” things she did with me and all the things she taught me.
I won’t though.
I don’t need to.
Because she’s lives in me and walks with me every day.
And tomorrow morning I will meet her along the river front in Cold Spring, like I have done every single year, for eight years on Mother’s Day since her death. I will sit and feel the breeze that is her love swirl all around me. I will offer her beautiful flowers to the awaiting currents of the Hudson River. I’ll drink my coffee and talk to her about what has been going on in my life. I’ll close my eyes and turn my face up to feel the heat of the sun and know that she is sitting right beside me, feeling all my love for her. I always tell myself I won’t cry. That it’s not really goodbye, because we will be reunited again in Heaven. But the tears will come, I know. And it will be ok, because she will be comforting me, like she’s always done, in her quiet, Mom way.
I am her daughter. Her Jennifer Sarah. Her Jeni Bear. Always.
I carry her legacy inside me and as long as I’m alive, so too will her memory be.
Happy Mother’s Day in Heaven, Mom ❤