When you have a baby, the first year is filled with all kinds of firsts. The first look. The first smile. The first coo. The first giggle. The first full night of sleep (or even a solid 4 hours!).The first roll over. The first crawl. The first wave. The first word. The first step. So many firsts that all bring smiles and laughter and joy. Pure excitement.
Then there is another year of firsts. Some of them are the same for everyone. Some of them are different. They don't generally bring smiles and laughter and joy. At least they didn't for me.
It's the first year after someone passes away.
The "first" was St. Patrick's Day. My momma was 100% Irish. How she loved St. Patrick's Day. One of my sisters usually has a St. Patrick's Day party where we laugh and talk and eat and sing - or at least try to sing. We wear green and drink and talk and laugh and eat some more. But, she wasn't there.
Then my husband and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary. Every year, I would talk to my mom on my wedding anniversary and she would reminisce with me. She'd talk about how happy she was the day I got married - the ceremony, the music, the dancing, the people. She was so happy for Jerry and me not only on that day, but for the days and years after, too. I know that she would have been so excited to talk to me on such a special milestone in our lives. But, she wasn't there.
Easter. On Good Friday I sat in church remembering Good Friday of 2016. We venerated the cross and I went back to my pew to pray. I could see Mom talking to my dad and he went up to the girl holding the crucifix and spoke to her. The girl walked over to my mom. My mom stood and so lovingly touched Jesus' feet and kissed them. But not 2017. She wasn't there.
My daughter's birthday. My dad's birthday. Mother's Day. Oh, Mother's Day. At Mass, my youngest sang solos during the song before Mass, the responsorial psalm, and the communion hymn. A couple of the girls sang "Blessings" before Mass began. How fitting that during M's solo she sang, "When friends betray us, when darkness seems to win, we know that pain reminds this heart that this is not, this is not our home. It's not our home." My mom always loved to hear the kids sing at Mass. But, she wasn't there.
Sibling's birthdays, my 50th birthday, my son's birthday, her birthday. My mom was all about the birthday celebrations and cards and making people feel special. But, she wasn't there.
Thanksgiving. Christmas. Her apple pie. Her decorations. Her laughter. Her love of family. The joy she would have watching us open our gifts. Oh, how she made the holiday season feel extra special and festive. But, she wasn't there.
Surprisingly to me, New Year's Eve was one of the toughest firsts that year. At midnight, we kissed and hugged and rang in the New Year and it struck me. It struck me that 2018 would be the first year that didn't know my mom, that didn't feel her touch, that didn't hear her laughter or her voice. 2017 slipped away and 2018 came bursting forth. But, she wasn't there.
As it came closer to the year anniversary of her passing, I found myself looking back. What was I doing last year on this day? What was I doing when I didn't know I was experiencing all of my "lasts" with her? Reliving those last days. Reliving the moments.
On the anniversary of her passing I went to Mass with my dad and my two eldest kiddos. We prayed. The day went on. My eldest and I went to clean at my dad's. One year to the day, we had cleaned as well. I thought of that as I cleaned this day. But, she wasn't there.
As the day progressed, I tried to take stock of how I was feeling. When I thought about it, I realized I felt like I had finally exhaled. It was as if I had been holding my breath for a year, even though I didn't feel like I had, and I slowly let it out. A weight had been lifted from my chest. I could get a full breath in.
Someone asked me if it was easier now that the first year was behind me. It's just different. My grief isn't over. It is something that I know will always be with me. Sometimes it will wash over me and sometimes it will just be resting deep within my soul. But, it will always be with me.
First years can be filled with much joy or much sorrow. First years can be filled with memories in the making or memories of times gone by. Sometimes, the first years can be a mixture of both sides of that swinging pendulum. Whichever way, first years should be embraced. First years are a blessing. They mark special moments of the people whom we love. And that, my friends, is always a good thing to live through and remember.
"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven"
Ecclesiastes 3:1
