Mom Cost me Hundreds of Dollars

 Or, more accurately, losing her did.

My mom worked right outside a Costco (she could literally see it from her office window), so she went there every week. Multiple times a week sometimes. And because she was already going, she’d text me first, “Going to Costco at 8:30am tomorrow. Need anything?”

And just like that, the paper towel, the coffee pods, the shampoo, the dog treats, the batteries, the garlic, or whatever random thing I needed would magically appear at my house later. 

At the time, I never realized how much money she was actually saving me. Not because I didn’t pay for the item, but because it’s pretty much impossible to leave without a cart full of things you didn’t come in for. You walk in for toilet paper and somehow you’ve come home with socks you didn’t need but were on sale, a giant (seemingly 10lb) bag of Munchies, a new jacket, and a giant hunk of Parmesan cheese.

This month was a high-spend month for us, and I remember walking out of Costco staring at the receipt thinking, “I would not have spent this much money if Mom were still here.”

Because if she were, I’d respond to her text saying, “the burgers we like, please!” 

And I wouldn’t have gone inside. No browsing, no impulse buys, no browsing the middle aisles convincing myself I needed a new spring jacket to go with the 3 I already have (also from Costco).

The things grief makes you miss are funny sometimes. Not just the holidays and birthdays, sometimes it’s Costco.

Sometimes it’s how much you didn’t even realize the quiet ways your mom made your life easier.

And now, even years later, I still catch myself discovering new ways I feel her absence. The small conveniences that were her love. The ordinary routines that were her care. The “need anything at Costco?” texts that saved me hundreds of dollars.

But grief is weird like that.