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October 26, 2006


My mom died a year ago today, very suddenly. Here is the post I wrote shortly after her death. I wrote another column a couple of weeks later after reality had sunk in a bit, giving a few more details.

Sitting here a year later, I can still hear her voice and her laugh. I still miss her like crazy.

I don’t know what else to say.

Posted by Anne Glamore @ 6:58 am • Mom   

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24 Responses to “Remembering”

  1. I remember your posts and cried. Hope your day is not to tearful. Remember the best of times the two of you shared.

  2. My thoughts and prayers are with you today. I know how hard it is. Hope you’re surrounded by good friends and family who can help you make it through the day.

  3. You will be in my thoughts today. Thank you for sharing your journey with us.

  4. I understand your pain and I’m so, so sorry. The 7th anniversary of my dad’s death is coming up next month, and I’ve been dreaming about him like crazy. It still hurts when I wake up and realize he’s not here.

  5. I’m thinking about you today, too.

  6. thinking of you today. stay strong. it’s okay to be sad.

  7. *hug*hug*hug*

  8. Lots and lots of big hugs. I’m thinking of you.

  9. I am sorry on so many different levels. My mom was 64 when she died this past June. I’m still working through the initial grief.

  10. You don’t need to say anything at all. Just remember her.


  11. It’s never easy to loose someone that close to you…

    You will always have her in your heart, even if that’s not enough – you’ll always have the memories.

    Sending you some warm thaughts…

  12. Anne, I wrote a comment earlier – but I went back and read the other column you linked to in today’s post. To say that my face blanched when I read how your mother passed would be an understatement. I have become a devoted reader of your blog – more recently – but I did read it from time to time over the past year. I must have missed this important detail – I am sorry. Two years ago at this time (at the beginning of October right after Yom Kippur) my mother had a pulmonary embolism (or at least that’s when it was diagnosed). She had been on a flight from NYC to Australia and had a number of silent risk factors that contributed to this happening. It was right after David Bloom, the NBC reporter, passed away from the same thing because he was crouched in a tank, embedded with the troops in Iraq. My mother was exceedingly fortunate that she survived. It seems that a small piece of the clot broke off and traveled to her lung. She was in the hospital for a week on blood thinners and I don’t really think that any of us really gave that much thought to the fact that that could have been it. I did, though, even though it’s largely inconceivable. My point is that, I want to offer my most profound condolences. I will certainly be thinking of you and I truly hope that in some small way, you can find a little peace. Much love, Amanda

  13. Anne,
    I know what you’re feeling, I’ve been there with both my parents. The hurt never goes away, you just absorb it into you & it becomes part of who you are. It’s your new ‘normal’. I’m sorry for your loss and the pain that you have today. May God’s peace and blessings abound the most today! Thanks for sharing all of your life. You help me feel a little more normal. 🙂 ~ashnance

  14. Anne, I know that you are still dealing with your mom’s death, and the ensuing storm with your father that makes his behavior seem like such a betrayal. I’m so sorry. There are no words that can adequately convey your feelings on the loss of a parent, and there’s no words good enough to tell you how sorry I am, and how I wish you had more time with your mother.

    Amanda related her story above, and my own mother had much the same thing happen a few years ago. I realize just how lucky I am to have my mother still here with me, and I wish to high heaven that yours was here, too. Much love to you on this sad day. Our hearts and prayers are with you. Always.

  15. Thanks Anne! For reposting these.
    I hope you had a good day, and did something to celebrate your mum.
    I am going to call mine, because it has been to many days since I did.

  16. The loss is profound; you can’t anticipate the ways in which it will affect you.

    My personal beliefs being what they are, I feel pretty comfortable saying your Mom is probably incredibly proud of you, her legacy, and your many accomplishments.

    You don’t have to know what to say. Sometimes, there just aren’t words.

    Thinking warm thoughts and sending the good stuff your way –

  17. honey dipped hugs! I went thru a simalar experiance with my mother in 97. just exchange ovarian with lung

    best wishes int his hard thime

  18. Hi I saw this before I read your latest, I hope you like it. I am so sorry for the loss of your mom.
    The young mother set her foot on the path of life. “Is this the long way?” she asked.

    And the guide said: “Yes, and the way is hard. And you will be old before you reach the end of it………. But the end will be better than the beginning.”

    But the young mother was happy, and she would not
    believe that anything could be better than these years. So she played with her children,and gathered flowers for them along the way, and bathed them in the clear streams; and the sun shone on them, and the young Mother cried,”Nothing will ever be lovelier than this.”

    Then the night came, and the storm, and the path was
    dark, and the children shook with fear and cold, and the mother drew them close and covered them with her mantle, and the children said,”Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm can come.”

    And the morning came, and there was a hill ahead, and
    the children climbed and grew weary, and the mother was weary.
    But at all times she said to the children,” A little patience and we are there.”
    So the children climbed, and when they reached the top
    they said, “Mother, we would not have done it without you.”

    And the mother, when she lay down at night looked up
    at the stars and said, “This is a better day than the last, for my children have learned fortitude in the face of hardness.

    Yesterday, I gave them courage. Today, I ‘ve given them strength.”

    And the next day came strange clouds which darkened
    the earth, clouds of war and hate and evil, and the children groped and stumbled, and the mother said: “Look up. Lift your eyes to the light.
    ” And the children looked and saw above the clouds an everlasting glory, and it guided them beyond the darkness. And that night the Mother said,
    “This is the best day of all, for I have shown my children God.”

    And the days went on, and the weeks and the months and
    the years, and the mother grew old and she was little and bent.
    But her children were tall and strong, and walked with
    courage. And when the way was rough, they lifted her,
    for she was as light as a feather; and at last they came to a hill,
    and beyond they could see a shining road and golden gates flung wide. And
    mother said, “I have reached the en d of my journey. And now I know the end
    is better than the beginning, for my children can walk alone, and their children after them.”

    And the children said, “You will always walk with us,
    Mother, even when you have gone through the gates.”
    And they stood and watched her as she went on alone, and the gates
    closed after her. And they said: “We cannot see her
    but she is with us still. A Mother like ours is more than a memory.

    She is a living presence…….”

    Your Mother is always with you…. She’s the whisper
    of the leaves as you walk down the street; she’s the smell of bleach in your freshly laundered socks; she’s the cool hand on your brow when you’re not well. Your Mother lives inside your laughter. And she’s crystallized in every tear drop.
    She’s the place you came from, your first home; and
    she’s the map you follow with every step you take. She’s your first love and your first heartbreak, and nothing on earth can separate you.

    Not time, not space… not even death!

    Home is where your story begins

  19. Thinking of you and your family today.

  20. Thinking about you, and hoping that only good memories of your mom are on your mind. Hugs to all of you.

  21. Thinking of you and wishing you and your family peace. I’m sorry for your loss – I know it doesn’t feel any less painful now than it did a year ago.

  22. Hey lady. Don’t know you nor do you know me. I stumbled across your blog doing some browsing here at work, on Shades Creek. Believe it or not, my assistant lost her mom exactly one year ago today as well. She’s a bit older than you, however. I lost my dad three years ago, but not to the day. The pain of it subsides, but the memories of that person never do. What a wonderful gift memories are, huh?

  23. I still think of you often grieving your mom’s loss and I hope that time is easing that hurt just a little bit.

  24. In 5 days my Dad will have been dead for 3 months. It is hard for me to even type “dead”. I read your blog last year and was heartbroken for you but still couldn’t really understand. Now I do. I recently read that the 3 month mark is hard, I haven’t stopped crying really since the day it happened. I just don’t know when the hurt ever stops. I just wanted to say that I understand and I am so sorry.

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I'm Anne Glamore, wife, mother, lawyer and blogger. I have three boys, and I'm desperately trying to train them to become Southern gentlemen, but that may be an unrealistic goal. At this point I'd be ecstatic if they'd quit farting at the dinner table. If you're new here, check out the Readers' Favorite Posts below or browse through the Categories. I write about my attempts to teach the boys about peckers and sex (which we call "making googly eyes"), my struggles with hepatitis C and spine surgery, the boys' adventures with fire and pets, my mom's death from ovarian cancer, my love of cooking (with plenty of recipes) and anything else that crosses my mind. Join me on Twitter or StumbleUpon or Email me. I'm happy to speak to your group or club.

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