Not a single day goes by that I don’t miss my mom. I wish that she had had the chance to meet my daughter. But that’s impossible, because she died five and a half years before she was born. Those five and a half years were full of both despair and happiness, but all of it was tainted by Mom’s absence.
Some days, a piece of me is still sad. Even though I am overflowing with joy, I often turn to my husband and say that I wish Mom was able to share in her granddaughter’s growth. My heart is forever cracked. I can’t help it. I miss having my best friend present.
Other days, like today, that sad, little piece of me is surprised with a visit. Not by apparitions, but by trash bags. Let me explain: my lovingly neurotic Jewish mother shopped at Costco for everything. Our house was always stocked full of copious amounts of well… anything you could imagine. Jelly beans, zip ties, you name it, we had it. And so, the 800-count box of trash bags my mom purchased not long before her death still persists. For some reason, unbeknownst to me, I kept them for these six plus years even though they didn’t fit any of my trash cans. And finally, when we purchased our diaper pail that is compatible with any bag of our choosing, I was thrilled to discover their purpose.
Now, as I change my daughter’s diaper pail bag, I can’t help but smile (despite the awful stench) because my mother’s thoughtfulness and ever preparedness persists, too. In turn, I am reminded that her unending love will also continue through eternity. Thus, I know she is still present, and each day I love her even more.