The month of March is host to a handful of significant events in the story of my family. Both my niece and I have birthdays in this month which neither of us is shy in announcing or celebrating to a level of annoyance. Okay, so maybe that’s mostly true of me, but my niece is big on the fun too. In this month eight years ago, a large tumor was discovered and removed from my then eight-year-old nephew’s brain. And every March since we’ve rejoiced as our now active, healthy teenager has remained clear of any return or further appearance of cancer. March is also the month in which my maternal grandmother passed. But March 19th is always the gut-puncher, a day that looms darkest on this otherwise brightly-colored spring calendar month. March 19th is the day my mom passed away from a battle with brain cancer, this year marking the 22nd anniversary of that terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
I’ve often thought it interesting how when a family member dies, the loss of that person means something different to each remaining loved one, depending on what role the deceased had in each life. For instance, if I were to die today, my niece and nephew would lose an aunt, but my dad would lose a daughter. The difference is no less painful, but striking nonetheless. So when Mariann Martin Veasey took her leave on March 19th, 1997, my sister and I lost our mother, while my dad lost his wife, her in-laws their daughter and sister-in-law, her siblings lost their sister, her nieces and nephews their aunt, her cousins their cousin, and her mother lost her daughter (and subsequently passed away herself only ten days later). I’ve never experienced the loss of a spouse as my dad has, but up until a year ago, he had never experienced the death of a mother, something I had walked through twenty years prior. My mom’s death was sudden, unexpected, and devastating. I’m not sure you ever get over such a penetrating loss as this was, you just somehow find a way to adapt and do the best you can with the “new normal,” as the saying goes.
As March 19th has approached this year and I’ve spent time reflecting about my mom, what I realize I miss most at this stage in life, isn’t not having her for a mom so much as I miss getting to be her daughter. Hear me, soon my dad will celebrate being four years married to the most wonderful stepmother anyone could hope to have (seriously, we’re blessed). And God has also placed incredible women all along in my journey who have loved me every bit as their own, but there is still just something about biological belonging that I think everyone, even those who are adopted, longs for and can appreciate. I miss getting to be the biological daughter to a woman who knows my life history since the womb, one whom I can call with no reservations as to the time of day or night with any manner of thought to share or favor to ask. I miss getting her the perfect gift or sending a note to tell her how much her daughter loves her and thinks she’s great. I miss getting to be her friend as an adult. And I will miss the opportunity to care for her in old age, to give back for all she gave me. Maybe I’m too idealistic, but I just can’t help but think sometimes that I could have made for a swell daughter for my mother to have.
Is there a purpose to this post? Well, mostly, being able to write has helped me process and for this I’m thankful. But perhaps it also might help us all to think about those to whom we biologically belong and be a little more attentive and grateful. Be grateful for how no introductions are needed with family. For how we can ask them to help us clean our messes, both physically and emotionally, usually with much less reservation than even with some of our closest friends. And maybe it can propel our investment too, with words both spoken and written, towards those we love and have still yet to love (i.e. notes/journals for future kids, grandkids, etc.). Make it a point to invest in the lives of those that will long outlive you, this is a passion of mine. And for mercy sakes, if your mother is still alive on earth, give her a call, write her a note, send a text, however you can best tell her today that you love her. Remember to enjoy those to whom you biologically belong, for this is certainly one gift we too often take for granted.