I had a pity party for myself when I first found out in March and I have done pretty well with the news with the occasional breakdown here and there, like when they were here in May for one of Annie’s last soccer games they could attend easily and I literally broke down, sobbing, hugging my mom and uttering “take me with you” mid-sob.
I am not making this up for dramatic effect.
I am 42 years old and mostly independent.
My husband calls me a “semi-single mom” because I raise two kids (three in the summer when I babysit my “third daughter“) all alone, mostly because of his hours.
I do a lot alone.
But I miss my mom and dad daily.
I have for the past seven years when they were transferred to central Illinois from Chicago and from the house they lived in that was literally two minutes from where I live now.
I drive by their old neighborhood daily and it still gives me a pain in my side when I do.
But the thing is, this whole time I knew they were still in the state I lived in, so that gave me some sort of crazy comfort.
Now, they aren’t even in a state that borders my state.
And I am sad.
Sad that they will miss even more life events of my kids than they do now.
Sad that I can’t just run over to my mom’s when I am having a bad day.
Sad that I don’t have people in my life daily who have a vested interest in my life and my kid’s lives.
Just plain sad.
Yes, I know, I should be lucky to still have them with me on earth.
Yes, I know, they are moving to a lovely place and I should be happy that I will now have some place fun to visit.
Yes, I know, I am glad that I have a great relationship with them and feel very blessed.
But now, I just want to sit down and cry, OK?
And someday, I will appreciate those things.
But for now, I wish I could lay my head in my mama’s lap and cry.
Because even 42 years old’s still need their mommies.