After a While, Crocodile.

See ya later, alligator. 

That was how mom ended every single phone call I had with her – every single one.

In these last 353 days, I have spent a lot of time thinking about memories like these, about all of the things I have lost, and all of the things I will never have again. In the moments (and there are many) that I find myself thinking about mom, all I ever find myself thinking about is how much I still need her and that she is going to miss everything.

That’s the problem when you lose someone too quickly and too horrifically – you have too many regrets. One of my biggest regrets is not asking her all of the questions I didn’t know I would need to get through a lifetime without her.

But honestly, I had no clue what to ask or where to begin. So instead, I sat with her those last few days talking about nothing of importance, convincing myself that she wasn’t dying… pretending that she wasn’t disappearing before my eyes.

Every time I get caught thinking about those last few days, it feels like a massive wound that keeps reopening. It’s painful and heavy and so unbelievably exhausting. I hate that I took her for granted when she was alive – that I just assumed she would always be around. I thought I would have years and years to soak up every piece of her – her wisdom, her humor, her grace. It’s in these moments that I fall into a void – imaging the million things left unsaid and the million and one questions unanswered. That void is a very dark and very lonely place to be. 

I have been trying (with little success) to stay far away from that dark place. Instead of focusing on all the moments with mom I have lost, I have been trying to focus on the amazing things I gained.

Full disclosure, this wasn’t my idea. A few months ago, amid one of my inconsolable breakdowns over mom and all of the things that I will never have again, Brandon looked at me and said, “but what about the things you DID get from her? You should write a blog about that.”

I was recalling some version of this memory last week when my therapist gave me yet another homework assignment – to write about all of the things I learned from mom in our 31 years together. I have been trying for days to come up with some awesome tidbits of information to share with you all, some wise and insightful lessons that I took from her. But instead, I have come up with a long list of weird quirks, odd sayings, and strange life philosophies that she lived by – all of which (whether I wanted them to or not) have become a part of me.  

So, what did I learn/get from mom?

Weird ass phrases. Things like “see ya later, alligator” (see intro sentence) and “no siree bob” – a phrase that has become commonplace in our home these last few months as we are constantly wrangling our kitten (Bob) out of sinks, off counters, and out of the fridge. There are so many other things she used to say that would always make me shake my head or roll my eyes – things like “put that in your pipe and smoke it” or “that’s a horse of a different color.” Like what does that even mean? But here I am – 32 years later – using these odd expressions in the most bizarre situations. She had other favorites that I refuse to use, though… things like “we’re in a real pickle dick” (like WHAT?) or “don’t let the bedbugs bite.” BTW – this is actually terrifying and 100% the worst thing you can say to your child… 10/10 don’t recommend for bedtime routines.

There were other things too; 

Like how to keep a good bottle of wine from going bad (p.s. the obvious answer is to drink the whole thing so it’s not an issue) or that black licorice isn’t nearly as bad as its reputation. She (and dad) taught me how to properly catch a bat that sneaks into the cabin when the power goes out (a memory I will NEVER forget) and to always write thank you notes – for everything – no matter how silly it feels.

She taught me that friendships get better with age, and dogs get better with size. That driving stick shift takes a level of patience that I apparently do NOT have, and that you can turn just about any piece of fabric into a (less than) perfect Halloween costume with a pair of scissors, a little imagination, and a hot glue gun.

She taught me the value of hard work, to always call grandma on her birthday, and that a clean house is a happy house. Plus, “you never know when the pope might drop by.” 🙄

But it wasn’t all just life lessons. There are other things that I got from her, too – like my high cheekbones and my shoe obsession. My less than impressive height and my irrational fear of basically every single type of bee. The obnoxious decibel of my sneezes and my savvy bargain shopping skills. She also passed down other traits – like that I cry too easily, I take things too personally, I trust too quickly, and I care too much.

But that’s ok – because those things also taught me that it takes a strong ass person to love with all your heart. That it is rare to find people who trust easily, and that tears don’t have to be a sign of weakness – but rather a sign that you love so hard. 

Even in her absence, there are so many things I am still learning from her.

Like;

To never delete pictures just to save “space” on your phone. That’s what that stupid cloud thing is for.

To take more videos of the people you love. You would be surprised by what you would be willing to give up just to hear their voice once they are gone.

To never put all your eggs in modern medicine’s basket because, as it turns out, even the most “curable” cancers can take the people you love most.

No matter how hard you try, you cannot prepare for a loss of such magnitude. You will never be able to ask enough questions or give enough hugs. You cannot fathom the pain of a goodbye until it’s the last one. There are no amount of words in the world that can ease that kind of hurt and no amount of memories that can do justice to that kind of loss. 

The best you can hope for is to hold on to the memories you have and the lessons you learned.

Like that there is nothing more important in this world than family and that you will, in fact, never go down the drain.

Oh, and hey mom? I still miss you.

After a while, crocodile.  

xo