Virginia Kardos
Shortly after mom lost her beloved dog Lambchop, she visited me in Pittsburgh and it was the first time she was meeting Tim. Tim came over and roughly 2 minutes after meeting her, he gave his condolences and made her cry. At roughly minute 15 or so, she was playing Mother of Three Daughters, the song that Vanessa had gifted her for Christmas, and cried. At roughly minute 30, she was telling Tim that she “knows people” and could make him “disappear.” I love telling this story because I feel like it perfectly encapsulates mom.
Mom was lively, she was clever, and she was passionate about the people who she loved. She reveled in our wins as if they were own and gave us words of encouragement through our losses— lots and LOTS of words. She was generous and she was resilient, and a little bit scary if you messed with her daughters.
Now, losing mom has become my sacred wound- and just as my mom did when I was a child, I will nurse that wound. I will keep it clean but won’t worry when it’s weepy, because mom told me that is the what the body does when it needs care. I will learn to live with my wound when it’s painful and be patient when it burns, because mom taught me to be strong. I will find beauty in the scar that my wound will create because just like mom, it will always be a part of me and is the enduring, sacred honor of what was lost.
Mom loved celebrating and bringing joy to holidays, including St Patrick’s day. She’d make corned beef and wear all green and swore it was because we are Irish, but I’m still not convinced. Her favorite though was Christmas. So, Mom, I hope everyday is Christmas where you are. A day filled with comfort, love, joy, warmth, peace, and celebration- over and over and over again.
