Snapshot Memories

I was going through my phone today updating the photos with some of my contacts. That led me to scroll through my All Photos album, where there are so many memories of Mom. Even the photos that don't have her anywhere in them. I remember the conversations we had about so many of them, because I used to call her every time something funny or annoying happened in my life. I'd send her pictures of the braids my youngest put into my hair. Or pictures of my kids playing outside in the rain and mud. I'd send her pictures of the ridiculousness that is my husband with our cat. I'd send her pictures of whatever crafting project I was working on, or had just finished. I sent her pictures of choir concerts, show choir performances and letters praising the girls on some accomplishment.

She may have lived 3 hours away from me, but she was as integral to my every day life as my husband. And she appreciated my husband's Dad jokes and puns in a way few others do. When Mom made a mistake ordering the turkey last Thanksgiving, and we ended up with a giant bird because she mistakenly scrolled to the bigger size on the online order form, my husband made a comment that she found hysterical. They opened the cooler to show us the bird and he looked at her and said that he was pretty sure she went to the wrong farm and got an ostrich instead of a turkey. Mom loved it. She said he had a knack for being quiet, but his one liners were perfection. That maybe most people couldn't appreciate his sense of humor, but she adored it.

So when I scroll through those pictures I feel her absence. I feel it more strongly not because I see her face in all of them, but because I remember her comments on those pictures. There are still pictures I sent to my parents of me in a dressing room trying on clothes for my new job. I knew she and Dad would give me real opinions, so I sent them a few I was undecided on. And now I don't want to delete them, not because they are great pictures, they are not. I don't want to delete them because it still connects me to a time when she was alive and as opinionated as ever. It's the same reason I can't bring myself to remove her contact from my Favorites list. She's still one of my favorites, even if I know she will never answer a call or text again.

I still tear up most days when I leave work, because I want to call her and tell her about my day, and ask her about hers. Instead I often talk to my sister or my husband. I talk to my dad or my aunt. But there is still that prick of gut wrenching grief when I can't call her to tell her that I'm starting to readjust to work again. When I can't tell her about whatever random thing that happened that day. I can't call her to complain or to tell her of some triumph. And it's not that I'm all alone, that I have no one to share these things with, I do. I have more support and love than I know what to do with most days. But no one will ever take her place. No one will ever say the same things she would say to me. No other person will ever be my Mom.

I don't cry quite as much or quite as often these days. But sometimes things like this just hit me so hard. A sucker punch to the heart. And I'm struck again by how big of a presence she was in my life. How big of a gaping hole she left. And I miss her so damn much. I miss her advice, her lectures, her voice, her smile and I miss her laughter. I'm grateful to have these pictures. I'm grateful for the videos and the conversations I can't bring myself to delete from my phone. Her physical presence may be gone, but she had a way of leaving a lasting imprint. But I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I miss her physical presence every damn minute of every day.