My mom died one year ago today. I have spent part of the day reflecting on my favorite memories with her. My immediate family was also able to have dinner tonight with my dad and share stories as a family about my mom.

I shared this story about my mom’s memorial service. It is the best example I have come up with of my mother’s unconditional and self-sacrificial love for me. 

It is important that you know that I did not and could not have fully appreciated at the time, how hard this was for my mom. This was largely because she did not show me that my decision was hurting her because of her love for me.

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High school was a tough time for me. I went to three high schools in three years. I kind of ran out of steam in the third high school and just didn’t have the energy after a few false starts to keep trying to find my people. 

I remember driving to school on the first day of my junior year of high school, which was also the first day I ever drove myself to school, aware that nobody knew or cared that this was my first day to drive to school.

It was a hard year.

I remember going to lunch with my parents one day at the end of a long and discouraging week and one of my parents, I can’t remember who, suggested the possibility of applying to college as a junior. I had no idea that was a possibility, but fairly immediately became interested in it.

I applied to a small liberal arts school in the Midwest, Knox College (most famous for being the site of one of the Lincoln Douglas Debates). 

With my parents blessing, I traveled to Knox College to visit the school and see what I thought. Having been to college, my parents knew better than I did that I would love it. 

And I did.

So, I went to college after my junior year of high school. The truth is that the details of this story don’t really matter, except one thing:

I had no idea what my mom was giving up in order to support me going to college after my junior year of high school. It not only meant that I would be leaving the nest a year early. It also meant that both of my mom’s children would be leaving the same year. 

My mom thought she had a year to recover from one son going off to college before both were gone. Instead, because of my decision, she became an empty nester overnight. She lost a year of parenting and a year she’d expected to have with just me living at home.

I had no idea at the time how selfless and generous it was for my mom to do that. And I had no idea how hard that must have been. The truth is I don’t think I thought about it at all. 

And I want you to see what a blessing it was for me that I didn’t know. My mom could easily have let me know how much this was all hurting her. She could have let is passive aggressively slip how painful this was for her, or would be if I chose to do it. 

But there was never any guilt trip at all. She had tremendous self-control. And a fierce determination to support my well-being as best she could.

I got a small glimpse of how hard this decision was for my mom a few years later when I heard the story of what happened when my mom took me back to the airport after Winter Break my freshman year. 

My grandmother had to accompany my mom because she didn’t know if she’d be able to hold it together. She later told me she just fell to pieces once I was out of sight and gone again. I think that was the moment when she most felt the grief of losing that whole year with me.

From my mom’s perspective, my leaving a year early for college hurt. It was gut-wrenching.

It was bad for her. 

But she saw the spark had come back into my eyes. 

She saw the excitement of a new challenge and the joy that brought me.

She was not going to deny me any of that. She willingly and whole-heartedly supported me in doing something that was good for me that would cause her true grief. She sacrificed what was best for her because it was good for me.

That’s what my mom did.

Now that I have a kid in high school I have some idea of how hard this was for my mom. 

I am forever marked by her love. I am so grateful.

Mom, I love you and I miss you.