It's been nearly nine months since my mother passed away.  I did surprisingly well during Thanksgiving, on her birthday and even on Mother's Day.  I thought I was finally moving forward.

But lately, the past week specifically, has proven me wrong.

I planted the vegetable garden this year. 

BG loves being in the dirt and I knew it would be a good teaching tool to grow things.  What I didn't know was how hard it would be.  Gardening was my mother's passion, second to her grand daughter, of course.  She knew all the organic potions and remedies.  She knew all the tricks of the trade.  She kept notebooks about what worked and what didn't.  She collected bugs in jars to learn how to kill them organically.  She spent countless hours on her knees, weeding and spraying and picking bugs off the plants with her bare hands.

My mother, the woman whom at first glance appeared so meek and proper, on her hands and knees, killing bugs with her bare hands.  It was a sight to see, even for me.

Every time I go to water or weed the garden, I think of my mom.  I picture her in her gardening gear.  I remember the pride and love she had for her plants.  I remember the albums she kept of her creations.  I imagine her telling me how to do what I'm doing.  And it makes me cry.  I'm not talking teary-eyed like you get when you see a sad movie either.  I'm talking overwhelming, flash flood, uncontrollable, sobbing tears.  And overwhelming emotions of sadness, anger, anguish, love; all at once.  It certainly doesn't help that BG has been asking about her lately.

She says, "We're going to go to heaven and ask Abi to come home and she's going to say yes."


Perhaps you never get over it; losing a mother.  No matter how old or sick or annoying she was.  No matter how ready you thought you were.  I miss her so much some days that I have to stop what I'm doing to collect myself.

Maybe I'm just now grieving.  Maybe I'm just now truly understanding what it means that I will not see her again in this world.  Whatever the terminology is for how I feel, it sucks.

My mother left a huge hole in our lives and no matter how many gardens we plant, it feels like we will never be able to fill it.