That very same day, I applied for a job online. I was offered the job a few days later, and thus began the incredible whirlwind and upheaval of the past year of my life. And now here it is, a full year later, and I realize how much has happened, how much has slipped away, how much has been lost, and how much has been gained.
Another year has passed, and given tradition, it is now time to write.
Just a few minutes ago, as Pete kissed me goodnight before heading to bed, he saw me staring at the post I wrote last year. In an attempt to break the silence, he said,
"You know she's proud of you."
My response? "I hope so." And then he asked, "well why wouldn't she be?"
And then I started thinking. Thinking about the past year. Thinking about how often people in my life have told me that my mother would be so proud of me. But it hasn't been until tonight that I have actually felt it. The truth is, the past year of my life has been the first year ever that I feel like I'm actually becoming the woman my mom always hoped I would be.
She always knew I would be a teacher. She used to tell me that all the time, no matter how much I would refuse the idea. She always hoped that I would have several children, and somehow in the past year I went from thinking I was done having children to wanting more so badly it hurts. She always believed that I would earn a graduate degree or even higher, and not only am I now just one class away from my master's degree, I also did it while teaching full time and mothering two children. I believe that she wanted Nathan and I to grow old close by each other, and while we may not live next door to each other just yet, this year has brought us a lot closer. She always wanted me to have a better life financially then she ever had, and when I look around at the house that I just moved into, the biggest house I have ever lived in in my life (even though it is still only a townhouse), I think she would be so happy. She hoped I would someday play the piano, and I chose last month to start teaching myself. She wanted my children to grow up knowing the Gospel, and my first child was baptized eight months ago. She dreamed that I would someday be married to a worthy priesthood holder, and the miracles that have taken place over the past year have finally made that dream a reality. Thinking about all of these things, I can't help but sit here in utter disbelief, asking myself, is it really possible that I am finally walking down the path of my destiny? It is possible that I am finally right where I am meant to be? Is it possible that I am finally becoming the woman she always thought I would be? And why the hell is she not here to be a part of it?
Surely, there are things about me that would drive my mother insane. She would hate my choice to dye my naturally blonde hair. She would disapprove of most of my clothing. She would probably think that my use of essential oils and obsession with poisonous preservatives is far to hippy-ish. But none of those things mean anything. None of it really matters. But for the first time in my entire life, I feel like she would actually be truly proud of the things that do matter. Yet she's not here. She's not here to give me sage teaching advice, she's not here to celebrate my graduation, she's not here to help me figure out how to have another baby while still keeping my career, she's not here when my kids are baptized, she's not here to teach me how to play the piano, and she won't be here in three months when I go to the temple to be sealed. It is an incredibly bittersweet feeling, stronger than I have ever felt before, to think about how proud she probably would be of everything I have worked so hard for this year, but also knowing I cannot experience any of it with her. Yes, I know she is still watching everything, I know she is still here, but it's just not the same. And that heartache lies heavy on me tonight.
It has been fourteen years. Will it ever feel any different? Will it ever be the same?
I want her to be proud. I want her to know that I'm trying. I want her to know that I wouldn't be where I am without her. And I cannot wait to someday be the woman she always thought I would be - because no one else believed in me more or had bigger dreams for me than her. It's like she knew what I was capable of from my birth, and now that I am a mother myself, I finally understand that. And that is why I trust it.
I miss her. Everyday. I always will.
But I will keep going. I will keep smiling. And that is what would truly make her the most proud. Above all, that is who she thought I would be.
In memory of my Mother,
Raelene Metcalf
November 1, 1949 - August 17th, 2001
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