There's probably nothing that has resonated as deeply in my grief journey as this quote/message. I wish I could remember where I saw it so that I could give credit to it, but unfortunately, I found it a year ago (exactly), and I don't recall.
"Grief is so damn weird.
It’s like... you can be doing just fine, having a good day, and you’re in the grocery store, and you pass the tomatoes. All of a sudden... it hits you. Because she loved tomatoes.
So now you’re all sad and lonely, just standing there, staring at the tomatoes, wondering why your person can’t still be alive, standing next to you.
The realization of everything that you lost, once again, comes crashing down.
As a kind looking human walks up next to you and grabs a tomato, you remember, what life was like when a tomato was just a tomato and didn’t have the ability to take your breath away."
Mom was such a huge part of my life, and we spent so much time together. It is as if her finger prints are on everything around me, so there are many moments that have this effect on me. The number of "tomato" moments that I experience that suck the air out of my lungs and knock me off my feet are less than they were a year ago, but they definitely still hit me.
I really miss my mom.
Do you have "tomato" memories too? I'd appreciate hearing them in the comments.
#23MonthsWithoutMom
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