Kera’s Story
My mother was the type of person who had a witty, smart-ass comment for just about everything. She was vivacious, loved to travel, socialize, attend concerts, create memories, and was truly the last person you would expect to find gone at the age of 57. She was an educator, and someone I saw as a mentor, as I followed her path into education. I saw the relationships she formed with her students and it was incredible. A trip to the grocery store or to Target could rarely go unnoticed, as those she made an impact with would joyfully yelp out her name, “Hey J!!!!” and I knew we would spend the next 15 minutes catching up with their recent adventures. It was always followed up with a hug and how much she knew they would always be great. This was even more evident after her celebration of life that took place at the school where she taught, and I was able to open hundreds of cards from students she impacted and I open them from time to time when I need a taste of my mom. She was a cheerleader in high school but continued to cheer for those around her for the rest of her life.
My mom was the fun mom, the mom you could grab drinks with, joke with, and find mischief and create stories with. She also taught me about friendship and sisterhood, as I watched her cling to her friends like the gold that they were, which inspired me to do the same. I love that we have that in common. It wasn’t always purely rainbows and butterflies with my mom, and to pretend it was so would not be genuine. When I became a mom myself, we went through growing pains, as mothers and daughters do.
We had a rough patch, which was beautifully resolved on the night of my daughter's birth. Looking back, I now realize the universe was trying to tell me time was short, and I’m glad I listened and worked so hard to tie a bow on the top of our beautiful earthly journey together. In June of 2022, I was pregnant and expecting my second child. We had avoided COVID for the entire pandemic, but it finally caught up to us. Luckily, we had very mild symptoms and within a few days, I was feeling better.
On the mend from illness, my body switched gears to labor pains, a whole month early. While driving to the hospital, I learned that my husband would not be allowed to accompany me during the birth of our child. COVID restrictions and regulations put a pause on this experience that we had dreamed about together, and as a result, we needed someone who was COVID-negative to accompany me. My husband tested multiple times, but that positive result continued to appear, even though he was symptomless. The last experience I had with my mom was this day.
She came to the hospital, and of course, even though all covered in masks and PPE gear, she recognized a former student, one of my nurses in the delivery room. She was supposed to leave for a trip in a few days, a trip she had postponed for years due to COVID, with 25 of her friends to Italy and Greece, and she was willing to skip it to stay with me in the hospital so I wouldn’t be alone. My husband tested a few hours later, and magically, he was negative. At that point, I was told only one person could stay, so I told my mom, “go on your trip now! I won’t be alone, and we will be here when you return!” The nurse was kind enough to allow us a few hours together, when my husband was allowed in too, and it was truly a beautiful book-end that I was unknowingly experiencing. I never imagined watching her leave, and telling her “have a great trip”, would mean something completely different.
Upon her arrival in Italy, she was not feeling well, and although an ambulance was called, it arrived too late. The next day, in the NICU, I received the news, and that shattering moment will forever haunt me. Screaming from a different kind of pain in the maternity ward, I felt the hallway spinning around me. How is this possible? How could the most lively person I’ve ever known, not be living? I still don’t have those answers, and I know I never will.
Since that day, my life has changed. I’m now a mom of two, without a mom myself. I have learned so much about life as a result, and I have truly grown into a different person. It’s shit that grief is the greatest tool in life that transforms the way you look at everything.
Why must we experience such loss in order to evolve? The bittersweet in all of this is once we realize how fragile life is, and how temporary our time on earth is, we start to cherish how wonderful this life can be. The fact that it comes with an expiration date makes it that much more special. Since then, I’ve decided I never want anyone to feel the way I feel, lost and searching for more, so I am in the process of publishing a guided journal, which allows us to leave behind notes of love, encouragement, and support for our family.
My hope is this journal will provide a little peace and give others the gift that I so desperately wish I had, a ticket back in time where I could still hear my mom’s voice. I also believe this will provide others with that permission we so desperately crave to move forward with life, bravely, with our loved ones in our hearts forever. It hurts, and I miss my mom every day. I crave her laugh, her witty sarcasm, and her zest for life. I have learned that although I can’t pull that from her anymore, I can pull it from myself and everyone around me. She taught me how and gave me the tools to live without her.
To learn more about Kera’s work and journal, visit her website or follow her on Instagram.
