I’ve been thinking a lot lately about motherhood.

Twelve weeks ago, I became a grandmother for the first time. Three weeks ago, I lost my Mom.

Talk about a swing in the pendulum of emotions… never have I felt so elated as to see my child become a mother, and never have I felt a heart so broken than in the loss of mine. 

If I’m being truthful to myself, I lost my Mom a number of years ago. I watched the slow deterioration of a beautiful mind, so full of history, become a shadow. In moments few and far between, a glimmer of who she was would tease me, just long enough to reaffirm her love for me. How I would clutch on to that like a newborn to her mother’s finger. These moments would be fleeting. Time is a thief. No truer words have been spoken when you are robbed of the very essence of your being. 

For all the times I questioned why God had not shown His mercy and taken her sooner, I now selfishly wish He could have let her stay just little while longer…Just long enough for me to place her great granddaughter into her loving arms…just long enough for her to see, in this newborn wonder, the circle of life… maybe just long enough for her to pause in the reflection of her own features in the generations ahead. 

I should be grateful for at least this much. I did share a photograph with my Mom of her newest great granddaughter. Sadly, in her mental decline, she lost her ability to communicate verbally. A cruel betrayal for someone who taught herself the English language as a young woman and spent her life bestowing beautiful words of love upon others. But in that moment, when she set her eyes upon that photograph, no words needed to be spoken. Her eyes widened, a gentle smile came upon her face and she nodded. That knowing expression… A mother’s love… the only constant in an ever changing world. How we thrive in it, yearn for it, grieve it, need it, and miss it. If we are lucky enough, we live a life wrapped in it’s unconditionality, a love like no other. 

As I grieve the loss of my Mom, I recall her life story…her joys, her sorrows, the trauma of her teen years and her resilience…97 years worth. Although they did not meet, my granddaughter will know my Mom, her great grandmother. She will know her in the tales I will tell and in the French I will teach her. She will know her in the recipes we will make together and in the gardens we will grow. But mostly…she will know her in the legacy of love she leaves behind… in the motherly love my Mom showed me, in the motherly love I show my daughter, and in the motherly love my daughter, this beautiful new mom, shows her.