Good Grief

Officially a Working Mom

My mom used to love all the TV psychics. My sister and I watched Sylvia Browne with her when we were small. Even as a kid, I was a skeptic. But it didn’t keep me from making a pact of after-death communication with my mom and sister.

We brainstormed for days about how we would communicate with each other if one of us died. Eventually we decided we’d use a special song—it was from a movie we all loved. It’s an old, weird song and, though I’m still a skeptic, I am listening for it everywhere I go but I haven’t heard it yet.

I want to hear from my mom. I want to talk with her and tell her the news. I got a new job. I want to start a business, I’m back in school. I need for her to know it all. To see her grand kids and how much they’ve grown. I’m desperate.

I just miss her as usual. I worry about all the things I had that remind me of her–a shirt, old photos, a letter she wrote to me. They’re all stuck in a chest in the attic of my house. Possibly ruined forever. And then there’s the lock of her hair that I lost. My sister cut the hair just after my mom died and we split it in two. We tied up each lock with a sliver of my baby blanket. I don’t remember what I did with my piece of her hair, but it’s gone and every time I remember I kick myself.


Last week I got myself a jay-oh-bee. A 9-5… well, technically a 12-5. Even though I’m excited about the job, I’ve been stressed out. It’s overwhelming. The first day back to work was rough–awkward, uncomfortable, I felt like I’d never learn everything that I’m expected to learn. And the second day was possibly harder… trying to get in the swing of being away from Simone. Feeling even more overwhelmed with new information.

On my drive home from work, “Blister in the Sun” came on the radio. It’s the song my mom said reminded her of me. I got home and as soon as I’d hung up my coat, Chris put a card in my hand.

I was emotionally fragile, so just the fact that he was giving me a nice card was enough to make me start sobbing. When I slid it out of the envelope, something fell onto the bed. First I read the card. In part, it said, “Sometimes we just need a reminder of how special we are. And sometimes luck and happy coincidences to keep us going…”

Then I looked down and saw it, the thing that had dropped out of the card. Chris had found it in his coat pocket earlier that day.


9 thoughts on “Officially a Working Mom

  1. {{HUG}} for you. Every time you share something about your mom and this journey of learning to live without her being here, it always resonates deeply with me. I find myself looking for signs from my mum as well. Glad you got not one but two powerful reminders. Congrats on the jay-oh-bee!

  2. Mary, I sure hope these signs help lighten your mood. So wonderful Chris found that lock. of hair. I share the feelings too about just wanting to share with grandma, my mother. I said the hardest part for me about being hospitalized and having emergency gall bladder surgery, was not being able to talk with my mom…I share your grief. Also the grief of you loosing your mom, my sister, I still think of her first when I want to reach out to call to share something. She would be so proud of you as I am. I love you Mary…

  3. Ok, so I just wrote a bunch of things and all of them seemed weird so I deleted them. What I want to say is, it’s so great that you could be reassured but such seemingly random things, whether they are random or not. Congrats on taking such huge steps in life. You are amazing!

    • Lol I want to see the deleted comments, too! Goosebumps Danielle, thanks for your sweet words. So flattered that you think I’m amazing–I’m gonna keep striving to be that 😊 xo

  4. Oh, I’m so glad you received those messages. I don’t identify as Christian, but I do believe that our loved ones can communicate with us, and those messages are (in my opinion) NOT random. I know things are all topsy turvy again (I’m not sure why I didn’t see this post before your other one) but I do hope things smooth out and get easier for you soon… sending you thoughts of love and light…

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