Eleven Years.

Eleven years. 

How is that even possible?

Eleven years.

The math doesn't work. 

It only makes me angry.

Sad.

Hurt. 

Heartbroken. 

Eleven years. 

Without you. 

Momma is with you now. 

You are whole again. 

Complete.

I'm still angry. 

Sad.

Hurt. 

Heartbroken.

Eleven years. 

Can feel like forever. 

And then forever times two.

When she's gone, as well. 

It's not supposed to be this way. 

I'm supposed to have you both. 

Here. 

With me. 

To lean on and into. 

To laugh with. 

To hold me when I cry. 

Eleven years. 

Feels like a lifetime.

Without someone who was so very much of your world. 

I miss you, Daddy. 

Love you always. 

And forever.

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It's Still Your Birthday

Happy birthday, Momma.

You're not here, but it's still your birthday.

I don't quite understand how we got here.

To this day. 

Without you. 

My heart hurts. 

I look at the calendar. 

I don't believe it.

Six months. 

You've been gone that long. 

And it doesn't feel real. 

And yet. 

It is. 

But. 

It's still your birthday.

So I celebrate you today. 

I'm not sure how I'll do that just yet. 

I just know you deserve it. 

The cake, balloons, fruit baskets.

Surprise presents that make you smile. 

It's still your birthday, Momma.

Even though you're not here to celebrate. 

I'll forever honor you on this day. 

I'll forever sing to you. 

And I'll forever miss you. 

With love, from me and my broken heart. 

Your *Million Dollar Baby*.

I love you. 

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Passover 2024

Passover hasn't been the same for my family in years. A decade - to be exact. 

This year is even more difficult. I don't host a Seder. I don't attend one. But still, I miss the ones we grew up with. The ones where my father sat at the head of the table and he and my mother maneuvered around the kitchen throughout the night - serving and plating - and welcoming. 

Over the years so very many of our friends and loved ones attended Seder at my parents' home. Having a dad who could make most anything from scratch meant we never went elsewhere. A dad who cooked so well that other people bought his food for their holidays (it wasn't his store but we know who did the work!).

And though my dad did most of the cooking (minus the pot roast or chicken - cutlets or barbecue), my mom did everything else. And I do mean everything. 

Not having her here to reminisce with hurts something awful this year. To laugh and cry with. To send pics of matzo balls and ask if they looked even close to my dad's. 

My heart hurts and my memories help me grieve and heal, and I watch as another holiday comes and goes.

Happy Passover to those who celebrate. 

May yours be blessed, may our hostages be returned home safely, and may we each witness the strength of the Jewish people as the days go on.

Zeissen Pesach.

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Nothing Feels the Same

*source unknown*

Nothing feels the same. 

It's been nearly two weeks since you left us. 

I hear your voice in the silence.

I feel your presence so strongly - it's truly a part of me.

But nothing feels the same.

Even as I write these words it seems as though I'm speaking about someone else.

It can't be you.

Not my mother.

So full of life. 

So full of love.

So not ready to go.

Each day you opened your eyes meant another day you could love us. 

Love your children. Your grandchildren.

Even your furry grandchildren.

So many left me ahead of you. 

I always knew Dexter was with Daddy.

But the cats. 

They liked you best. (Even when you weren't sure about them!)

They won you over. 

One left us this week. 

I am trying to take comfort that he has my Momma to hold him. 

But that's not enough.

You're supposed to be here. 

We're supposed to be holding each other.

Our last days together kept me from holding you the way I would have.

Kept me from combing your hair myself.

But you squeezed my hands with a strength unlike many I've ever felt. 

I knew it well. 

And I knew it was still in you. 

And I know it's still there. 

But nothing feels the same.

Because it isn't. 

Will never be. 

Nothing will ever be the same again.

I love you, Momma. 

I miss you so. 

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'Tis the Season.

And yet, it's not. 

It's not exactly the season of all the things.

It's the season, but it's not.

It's not the same at all.

Our travel plans are halted. 

Our parties are cancelled. 

Our sparkly outfits stay in the closet.

But.

'Tis the season. 

Still. 

Because...

This shouldn't take away the joy that we feel.

This shouldn't take away the hope in our hearts.

This shouldn't take away the love. 

The love.

Goodness.

It's there.

Always.

So.

Yes.

It's stressful. 

Yes.

It's exhausting. 

Yes.

Let's face it, y'all. 

It's.

A.

Lot.

But...

The love.

The love is there. 

Whether we're together or apart.

Whether we're 500 miles away. 

And yes. 

I choose that number specifically.

I am almost always 500 miles away from my family.

Through the most important of holidays.

The most important of anniversaries.

The most important of moments.

But.

The love.

The love is there.

Whether we're together or apart.

Whether we're 500 miles away.

The love is there.

For.

Ever.

You'll feel it, too.

I promise.

Because.

After all.

'Tis the season.

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Voices.

image from Pixabay

I'm sitting here watching The Voice, and it's interesting that the title for my post is Voices.

I'm sticking with the one word titles for November. Though I'm obviously off the daily posting thing.

So.

Voices.

They represent so much.

What voice do you use when you speak?

How many voices do you have?

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Twenty-two Years

Today is a very difficult anniversary for my family. It's a day we experienced a double-dose of loss over the years. And so, finding the words isn't always easy.

I've tried before. Shared my January Reflections. Repeatedly.

But tonight, before I tuck myself and my kiddo into bed, I'll be borrowing some that I used last year, and yes, admittedly, a few from the year before and adding a bit to them as I continue to grow in my grief.

My grandmother left us 22 years ago today. Twenty-two years. How is that even possible?

It's a lifetime. And yet, I had barely lived so much of my own life. Barely seen the world. Barely knew what the future would hold.

But I knew love.

I knew love because my family showed it to me. Showed me heart. Showed me just how important connection was and would always be. Showed me how to take care of those I loved. How to show up. How to be there, even when they barely knew we were. And how to hold on. My father was the strongest example of this you'd ever see.

I remember the second I found out she was gone. Remember it like it was moments ago. Losing someone who loved you with their entire heart - unconditionally - is a loss like no other.

Since that day my family has experienced more loss. More pain. More sadness. And my only solace is that they're together again. My father, his parents, his sister. A family unit that traveled the world to create a new life for themselves. A life unlike what they would have experienced had they stayed. A life that led to my own. Such a blessing that they made that trek. Such history there that I hold onto - even when some of the pieces are missing.

I love and miss them so. Parts of my incredible family together again. And me, us, their loved ones ... here, carrying them in our hearts always. I hope they are listening, on this beautiful and peaceful snowy day, and that they hear me as I whisper softly to them ... I love you.

If you'd like to find out more about my grandmother, I'd love if you'd head over to this post I wrote oh-so-many-years-ago: What I Remember.

And if you have a family member you've lost and would like to take a moment to honor and recognize, I hope you'll do just that in the comments. Say their name. Let me know who they are to you. Let me share in your memories and moments, as you have here in mine.

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Motherhood Is ...

Good morning, y'all.

It's barely 7:30 and I'm ready for a nap.

My morning was, for lack of a better and more gentle word, interesting.

My morning was motherhood.

And if you're not this mom you may be wondering - what exactly does she mean?

Allow me to share this morning's definition of motherhood with you.

Motherhood is ...

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A Brand New Year

I'm sitting on my couch with my daughter.

She is playing a video game.

I'm on the computer.

That last part is obvious - no?

This really isn't that much different than last year.

My daughter and I welcomed in 2017 with her asleep on the couch. I even recorded the moment the year changed on Snapchat and their year in review popped up with a reminder that made me giggle.

She fell asleep and just missed it. This year she is determined to stay awake.

So.

That's different.

We've got a new cat we're snuggling with.

We had a new one last year, too.

Last year we had two dogs, this year we had to say goodbye to one.

July ended with lots of weeping and sadness.

We knew it was coming - but couldn't prepare for it - how can you prepare to say goodbye to such an unconditional love?

It broke our hearts.

We miss him terribly.

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I Should Be Asleep But My Mind Won't Let Me

Image from Pexels

I'm not asleep.

I know. You already knew that.

Why introduce this post with such a simple, unnecessary statement?

I don't know. But here it is again.

I'm not asleep.

But my child is, and that's what matters most.

For the moment.

I'm sitting here like I'm 90 years old.

I literally just put some Icy Hot on my left knee.

I have no idea what the heck is wrong with it, but I probably slept funny.

And of course, I have an actual occasion this coming weekend and might even dance a step or two - and NOW I'm walking around smelling like my dad after he played ball all weekend.

Actually, he used Ben Gay more than Icy Hot - but it still makes me think of him.

Maybe that's why I'm still awake.

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I Woke Up Sad Today

I woke up sad today.

And it would be easy to say I didn't know why.

But I do.

I woke up sad because of many things.

I woke up sad because a short bit ago we had to say goodbye to our dog Dexter.

Our dog who we loved since he joined our family in 2003.

That's a really long time.

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Motherhood: They Hit The Soft Spots

Kids.

They hit the soft spots.

They don't mean to.

And yet. They. Just. Do.

They say these things and just hit exactly where it hurts - with no ill intentions - just the innocence of children.

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It Comes Again

I am a girl without a father.

Father's Day is tomorrow and I am, currently, a girl without a father.

A woman, sure. But when I think of my dad I am and will always be a girl.

A young girl at that.

I had a father.

Don't get me wrong.

I had him for forty-one years of my life.

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It's Different Now

It's different now.

Now I hang my towel on the hook next to the shower after I'm done.

I don't need to use the one on the back of the bathroom door anymore.

Sometimes I forget.

Go to hang it up and look around as if someone is watching.

Waiting.

Looking to see what I do.

But I remember.

It's just me. 

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Ten Truths About Mental Health

Source: pixabay... /en/consulting-mental-health-health-1739639/

If you've been a regular reader of my blog you're bound to already know how important the topic of mental health is to me.

As a licensed clinical social worker, it's a given that this topic is not just a part of my professional world - but basically IS my professional world. And when it comes to personal discussions, you already know that I speak freely about how important it is to take care of your mental health.

For mental health awareness month, I'm participating in an effort with some other bloggers, coordinated by Brittany of Clumps of Mascara, to normalize the discussion about mental health.

And in doing so I've decided to share some truths about mental health - for those who might know nothing about what it's like to get help - or what it's like to struggle with mental illness - or - well - pretty much anything I can share I'm going to share here. Because for those out there struggling, it's helpful to hear these things (or read them, as the case may be here), and for those who aren't? It's important to those who are that YOU read them, too. And hear them. And know what your friends and loved ones are experiencing. So please - even if this doesn't apply to you - read on. You just might be able to better understand someone in your life who needs you to.

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So Many Firsts

Life is ever changing.

We never really know what will come next.

Things shift. People adjust. And we hopefully find ourselves standing on the other side of it all.

I am someone who often writes from the heart here in my space.

I share a lot about who I am, what I do, where my heart falls.

And in doing so I give my friends a new perspective of what my life looks like. And I open it up to strangers, too. You, dear readers, however many of you there might be on a given day - or week - or month, even - you get to see where I'm coming from.

And of late I'm experiencing so many firsts.

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Seasons of Change

I've been kind of quiet around here lately.

It's not been my intention, but when things happen in my personal life I tend to put other things on hold to navigate through them. The blog becomes one of those things.

The blog.

My blog.

I'm not sure why I used that term. Maybe I'm growing out of blogging, but I doubt it.

I'm actually in the process of a much needed redesign. I'm close to having it completed but - alas - life has gotten in the way.

How dare it do so, right?

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Still A Warrior

You may be bored with me, dear readers. You may have had enough.

And if that's the case, that's okay. I can take it.

If you are a part of my community of women, mothers, who wakes up today confused, hurt, angry, struggling? I am with you.

I am trying very hard to remain a voice of reason. I am trying so hard to see both sides.

I know what I am saying and have said publicly.

I do.

I say, repeatedly, that I stand with women of color. And I do.

And I know that to some of you it doesn't make sense.

How? How was this about women of color?

What happened?

How did she suddenly become the object of everyone's anger and hatred?

And I know. I see you.

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How Much Do You Love Yourself?

I just bought this little pouch for myself. It's an important reminder I've been carrying with me and I love that I can now SEE it when I need to. #doALLthethings

A photo posted by Andrea Bates (@goodgirlgonered) on Oct 16, 2016 at 11:40am PDT

Some days the world just seems so intense. Emotions are heightened. 

People say things that trigger a thought process we thought we'd escaped from long ago. 

Loving ourselves is an interesting challenge. It's a way of life. It's important for living. So very important. 

It can be a rough go, though. A tough thing to do consistently. Most of the time I think I'm on the right side of it - the side that loves who I am and where I am in my life. I recently posted the following status update on Facebook and thought to myself - wow - I really am there. 

"Sometimes you do your work and you walk away, or hang up the phone, or save the file and you breathe deeply and truly feel like you're meant to be here. In this place. Working with and for these particular people. And you recognize that although sometimes you forget it? This is the work you're meant to do." 

And when I share things like this I recognize how far I've come. I am proud of me - of who I am - of what I do. And I wouldn't change a thing. 

And then, there are days that I think about how much more I could be doing. 

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Today Is A New Day

Or at least, that's what I tell myself.

Because I have to. As a mom. As a woman. I have to tell myself that today is a new day and things will be very much the same, and very different, all at the same time.

No?

Don't you agree?

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