Try. And then try again.

Just because it burns, it doesn’t mean you’re gonna die. You’ve gotta get up and try. ~Alecia Moore

One of the biggest voids I find while I continue to struggle with the “loss” of my mother is that I no longer have the privilege of hearing her voice any time I want. Words are extremely limited now. I could be with her for an entire day and not hear her utter a single word. There is no option to turn to her for advice or comfort. That has been ripped from us all now. Like so much else.

I can remember one Christmas season after college I was determined to make my mother’s peanut butter balls (buckeyes for the rest of the world.) I had watched her do it every Christmas for as long as I can remember and knew what to do. She sent me the recipe and off I went, creating my mom’s tradition for my own little family at the time. Except, I used granulated sugar instead of powdered sugar. It was a complete disaster. I called her in tears. I was literally sobbing on my kitchen floor while talking to my mom. She sat on the phone with me as I went through every extreme emotion I was feeling from being a failure to not feeling like I could be a good domestic partner. She let me just sob and sob.

And then, when I was finally done, she told me to go get powdered sugar and do it again. I told her there wasn’t a chance I was putting myself through that torture and mess again. And she just said to me in the softest, loveliest voice, “Amy, you have to do it again. You have to try again.” And, of course, she was right. As ridiculous as this sounds, that experience has always stuck with me. The way she supported me through something as silly as using the wrong ingredient in a dessert. There was nothing in her power my mother wouldn’t do for me. She always showed up for me. And she always reminded me to try.

It is one of the biggest pieces of my mother that I hope to carry with me, proving to my daughter that unconditional love and support exists. For that is how my mother loved me, without judgement and completely full of love and support.

Life has felt exceptionally hard for me lately. There are days I am struggling to get out of bed. There are days that I do not want to leave my condo. Some days the thought of having to make my daughter’s lunch for school feels impossible. There are days when the heavy weight of all of my responsibilities is too much to bear. Sometimes my anxiety is so intense that I just lay in bed and cry for hours.

And on those days, I think of my mother. And I hear her tell me that I have to try. I have to try again. So, I do. With a tremendous amount of love and grief.