A Gift for Mom! 🤍

You Call Your Mom While I’m Left Wishing I Could

4 Minute Read

By Jessica L. Riddle

Woman looking at phone — Rawpixel.com/Shutterstock.com

Eleven years . . . a little over a decade we have been without her.

Eleven years of not seeing her smile, hearing her wisdom, or putting up with her as a paparazzi (I laugh because I have become her). Things she would do that drove me crazy would suddenly be longed for. Her smile could light up the room with just a twinkle in her eye. Her wisdom was comforting, always with the right words at the right time. The only thing left is the thousands of pictures and videos she took of us, with her hardly ever in the frame.

I remember 11 years ago sitting for hours in a coffee shop with a true friend, hours after her death. I was crying my eyes out, thinking the pain and emptiness would never get better. I can’t say that it got better; it comes in waves without warning. Though the pain and the emptiness don’t come around as often, it still stings and weighs me down the same way it did that 23rd of July. Sometimes, it’s simple moments when watching a mother or grandmother with her daughter or her grandchildren.

It always leaves me with the same question: “Why her?”

We still need her at the most important stages of our lives.

It never gets easier watching friends’ relationships with their mothers at this stage of life, yearning for just an hour of that. Or watching those who have broken relationships with their parents, wanting so badly to patch it up for them and warn them with a big neon sign that their time is SO short and hoping they don’t have regrets later.

I wish I would have listened to her when I was younger and not taken for granted that she would always be there to listen to. I wish I would have been able to ask her questions that my then-26-year-old self never knew to ask but my 37- year old self yearns to know. I wish I could pick up the phone when I have questions about raising my children, or my marriage, or just to even hear her voice on the other line.

My sister and I were texting about how much her eyes would have sparkled at the sight of her three grandkids and how fiercely she would have loved them, each in their own way. Instead, I am left to try to feed them my memories of her and show pictures of her so they have a sense of how wonderful their grandmother was.

I do know one thing: I never realized the impact she had on the world until the day of her funeral.

There was barely room left in the standing room only section of that church. The church where she got to marry the love of her short life, where she raised six kids. Even in her death, she made sure to take care of us by writing her own obituary and requesting her service be held on a Saturday so no one would have to miss work. That was the person she was, always making it easier for the ones she loved.

I only hope I become half the human, daughter, wife, mother, sister, aunt, and friend she was in her short 48 years here on earth. I hope to love my children the way she did, so they never doubt how loved they are and when I leave this earth one day, they, too, mourn that love.

Until then, each day is one day closer until I see her again. This time, for eternity.

Today, take the time to tell your parents how much you love and appreciate them if you are still lucky enough to have them around.

You may also like:

I Wanted to Call My Mom Today

Don’t Take Your Mom For Granted—I’d Give Anything to Have Mine Back

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Jessica L. Riddle

Jessica is married mother of three children from Northeast Ohio. You can find her spending time with her beloved family or being a crazy chicken lady. She holds an undergraduate degree in English, and is working on her M.B.A. in-between working full time and raising a family. When she does get that occasional free moment, she enjoys reading and writing.

Farewell My Father: Walking the Trail of Beauty in Old Age

In: Grief

In his last years, Dad spent his days in a chair by the big picture window. From there, he could survey all the comings and goings of the ranch. He watched the weather, the dogs, and our Arabian stallion, Axum, galloping through the pines and calling to the mares across the hill. Occasionally, Dad would alert us that a certain dog had escaped or that a storm was coming in. He was looking out. He was keeping track. He needed help to move even a few steps. At night, my husband or I cleaned him, dressed him, and tucked him into...

Keep Reading

Sometimes Healing Doesn’t Look Like Moving On

In: Grief

Young woman holding red umbrella walking next to canola field

Outside, the sky hung in a thick, dim slab, like a ceiling over the trees that stood crooked in the wind. Not the fresh spring breeze we’re used to in Florida, but the damp, cold kind that makes you pull your coat together with tight fists. I got there right on time, parked in a front spot in the almost-bare lot, and slid my violet boots with fluffy pom-poms onto the asphalt. I braced for the impact of the frigid air and tucked my body inward as I did a little hop-jog into the pub. Once inside, I let out...

Keep Reading

Now that You’re Gone, I Sit In This Waiting Room Alone

In: Grief, Loss

I lay in bed this morning, sweet boy. It is Saturday. Seven of them since you left. Half awake, I turned over and saw Grief staring right at me. She pounced then stood, haughty, on my chest. I couldn’t breathe. She yelled that she would be close today. If she feels like it, she might even be relentless. She is cruel. You were the reason, sweet boy, for me to get out of bed on a Saturday morning. Actually, every morning you were my purpose from the moment I opened my eyes until the moment they shut. I knew on...

Keep Reading

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

In: Grief

They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. I found that to be most true when my grandma passed. Like many grandmas, she was the best. She was kind and tender, but firm when she needed to be. She gave her time freely and used her baking talent to bless others. She had little and needed little, yet she had a way of drawing people together. There wasn’t a day I can remember when someone didn’t call her or stop by. She seemed to have all the answers and somehow knew how to fix almost any problem....

Keep Reading

My Parents Will Never See This Face

In: Grief

Woman with sunglasses shown in rear view mirror

You’ve had that moment, right? That moment when you don’t recognize the woman standing in front of you. Her hair is grayer. The skin around her eyes is a bit darker. Even without noticing the small details, that face is different. It’s aged. And as I stared at her yesterday afternoon, all dolled up and nowhere to go, it dawned on me: My parents will never see this version of me. My mom will never get to see hands that look like hers. She’ll never recognize the wrinkles or the sun spots. My father-in-law joked about gray hair with my...

Keep Reading

The Due Date that Never Comes

In: Grief, Loss, Miscarriage

It is not often talked about. I completely understand why, but when going through something so heartbreaking and devastating, women shouldn’t have to suffer alone or in silence. If you’ve gone through it, you probably already know what I’m referring to – miscarriage. It is the reason many couples don’t tell people they are expecting until after the first trimester. It is so unfortunately common that one in four women will experience a miscarriage in their lifetime. According to the National Institutes of Health, 15-20 percent of pregnancies will end in miscarriage, and it is the most common pregnancy complication...

Keep Reading

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

In: Grief, Living

Black and white photo of older man in garden

I was never meant to be a plant person. I’m the woman who can kill a succulent on the way home from the store. Once, a fern sighed in my direction and gave up. That is my spiritual gift. My grandpa Dominic would have laughed—hard. He loved to laugh. And sing hymns passionately in Italian. He was an Italian immigrant who lost his arm working in a mill, and still, he woke up every morning and dressed like dignity itself. He shopped for my grandma. He fixed what was broken. And he tended the biggest, happiest garden you’ve ever seen....

Keep Reading

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

In: Grief

Woman with mother smiling in older photo

Recently, whenever I look in the mirror, I see a strong resemblance to my mother. People always said I looked like her, but I never really saw it until now. I think it may be because you always think of your parents as being older than you are. At the age of 61, I am now only two years away from the age my mother was when she died. The only good thing about dying young is that everyone will remember you that way. I have only known my mom as the vibrant, personable, and active woman she was. Well,...

Keep Reading

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood

Editor’s note: This post discusses child loss Child loss changes Mother’s Day. My 19-month-old, Julia, died suddenly on Mother’s Day in 2024. Three months later, her autopsy revealed she had B-cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (B-ALL, also known as SUDNIC). Julia died a week after we did an embryo transfer at an IVF clinic in an attempt to have a second child. We found out three days after Julia’s death that the embryo did not make it either. Six months later, we did another embryo transfer that succeeded, and I now have an 8-month-old daughter, Lucy Mei (“Mei Mei” means “little...

Keep Reading

I Miss Having Parents

In: Grief

Grown daughter posing between smiling parents

I have been living with the ache of loss for so long that I truly don’t remember what it feels like not to carry it. Sometimes it rests quietly beneath my ribs, dormant and almost polite. Other times it rises without warning—on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, in the middle of a coffee line—and cuts straight through me. Today, it was a song. I was waiting for my coffee when “Pictures of You” by The Cure drifted through the café speakers. I hadn’t heard it in 20 years. In my twenties, it meant heartbreak—young love unraveling, relationships ending before they were...

Keep Reading

Dear Friend Waiting For a Baby

Baby

Dear Friend Waiting For a Baby

Ask Him Again

Faith

You Call Your Mom While I’m Left Wishing I Could

It always leaves me with the same question: “Why her?”

I do know one thing: I never realized the impact she had on the world until the day of her funeral.

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Jessica L. Riddle

Farewell My Father: Walking the Trail of Beauty in Old Age

Sometimes Healing Doesn’t Look Like Moving On

Now that You’re Gone, I Sit In This Waiting Room Alone

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

My Parents Will Never See This Face

The Due Date that Never Comes

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

I Miss Having Parents

Get It Now

So God Made a Mother

You Call Your Mom While I’m Left Wishing I Could

It always leaves me with the same question: “Why her?”

I do know one thing: I never realized the impact she had on the world until the day of her funeral.

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Farewell My Father: Walking the Trail of Beauty in Old Age

Sometimes Healing Doesn’t Look Like Moving On

Now that You’re Gone, I Sit In This Waiting Room Alone

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

My Parents Will Never See This Face

The Due Date that Never Comes

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

I Miss Having Parents

Previous Post

Next Post

You May Also Like