Missing my mother, one broken salt shaker at a time…

I miss my mother, I literally ache for her.

During our move one of our salt shakers broke, and it just happens to have formally belonged to my mother.

The minute that random porcelain piece hit our counter top I burst into tears.

I don’t know a thing about this salt shaker, other then it belonged to my mom, and it is therefore priceless.  I’ve put everything ever touched by that woman onto such a pedestal that I barely breath when I’m near one, and yet I managed to break this one.  One hundred percent my fault.

I’ve been hoarding every tiny piece for a couple of weeks now, and last night I made the rather difficult decision to formally part with it’s shards.

I threw it away, and I bawled like a baby.

(I’d already glued it back together once, so it wasn’t really functional, but parting with it kills me.  I’m keeping the matching pepper shaker, forever.  Period.)

I know that my mother does not somehow exist in these little trinkets and dishes, but each time I break or misplace one it feels like I lose a part of her all over again.

It sounds cliche, but my mom really was my best friend.  I simply can’t believe how long it’s been since I last spoke to her.

8 years…

Boggles my mind.

I wish I could ask her where she got these shakers, or why she kept them for so long.

I wish my mom had been around when I was pregnant.

I wish she could meet my babies.

I hate that these beauties are going to be raised in a world in which she doesn’t physically exist.

But, when I start to get really sad I have to remind myself that I will see her again someday.

And in the mean time I can look at my blonde-haired, blue-eyed babies, my forever reminders of my mother’s gorgeous genes, and know that even though she’s no longer on earth, she lives on in my kids.

I can’t allow myself to reduce my mother’s memory to nothing more than random nicknacks.  Her legacy is so much more than that, and will reach through the generations of our family.

And I don’t need a salt shaker to remember her.  She’s engrained into my soul.

So, while I do look forward to being reunited with my mom with GREAT anticipation, I am also desperate to cherish every moment I have on this earth.

If my parents have taught me anything it’s that life is both short and unpredictable.

Let’s make it count.

About trinakhobbs

http://instagram.com/frijolehobbs
This entry was posted in Blessings, Children, Parenting woes and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Missing my mother, one broken salt shaker at a time…

  1. Pingback: Broken but Cherished | habitual metamorphosis

  2. ShermanHuff says:

    Trina, Sherman Huff again. Thanks for giving me access to your blogs. Just read the one about your Mom and your decision to give up drinking. You r so right about how it affects children. My Dad was a heavy drinker when I was a kid but only on Saturday nights. He never beat me or my Mom, he never missed a day of work and he never spent all of our money. In fact he would give his paycheck to my Mom and only keep a few dollars for himself and he quit drinking as far as I know when I was nine. So logically it really should not have affected me but it did. I came to believe I had to please everyone to b loved and b happy so I was either real happy or real down depending on how I perceived I was being viewed by the people I loved. Finally at 42 years of age I emotionally collapsed and wound up in a treatment center diagnosed with severe depression and co-dependency. I have now been in al anon for 27 years and that and my faith in God keeps me level. I know that in reality there is nothing wrong with alcohol per se but based on my experience I just think it is better to stay away from it. I also believe that those of us who have or have had alcohol abusers in our family or more likely to have the alcoholic gene in us and r therefore more susceptible to becoming alcohol abusers. Thanks for your honest sharing and congrats on your decision.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s