“Why didn’t anyone tell me that?” is a question that’s been running through my mind like a rising river on a spring day, fast and without much notice.

The past 7 years have seemed like it could be both a Hallmark movie and a suspense novel wrapped in one, each emotion felt to the extreme. I have been lost, found, walked to and away from. I have cried, gleefully laughed, screamed and sobbed, sometimes on the same night. I have been silenced when I wanted nothing more than to scream from a mountaintop and I have felt so low that I didn’t know how to crawl from the depths of where I was.

Even in this moment, my words can feel jumbled and vulnerable but I have learned, by the end, it all makes sense….to someone. Mostly though, I have been left with, “why didn’t anyone tell me that?”

Why didn’t anyone tell me that making lemonade from life’s lemons wouldn’t always taste like the sugary kind from the store. Sometimes when you make that lemonade it’s extremely tart and you have no choice but to spit it out.

Why didn’t anyone tell me that the silent moments alone are the most freeing and yet scariest of times. I can hear myself breathe, feel all the feelings and some things that I hadn’t allowed to sink in, finally had time to digest in my mind.

Why didn’t anyone tell me it’s far harder to mourn when you didn’t get a chance to say goodbye? I never imagined the crushing pit of emptiness that happens when you are left with years of words and time you thought you had, only for it to be gone in an instant.

So, nearly 6 years from the loss of my sassy, larger than life, loving more than she had in her, mother I ponder the things that she did tell me. The things that, when the words came from her mouth, full of love, hope and wishing only the best for me, I cast aside.

I never did it out of disrespect but rather, she was telling me something that I chose to file away as “mom thing.” I think about what she would say to me now, the things she would absolutely be laughing hysterically about, and supporting me anyway. The ways, I would have looked at her, with tear filled eyes and ask “Why didn’t anyone tell me that” and she would look at me with love and say “my sweet daughter, I did.” And now that I am a mother, I look at my son and I know there will be times, in his future where I will have told him something, yet he will circle back and say “why didn’t anyone tell me that?” I will simply smile and say, “My sweet son, I did”

The thing is, we hear what we want to hear. When people do fill us in on the great mysteries of life or at a minimum pass on their knowledge, having experiences similar to ours, we don’t always have our ears open to hear or our hearts vulnerable enough to accept.

So this is part of my mourning, the ongoing process of grieving that will last longer than I ever thought, would. It’s to pass on this nugget of advise to you. When someone, especially your mother, tells you something, you may not do anything with it in the moment but you certainly can’t look back on it and say “Why didn’t anyone tell me that” because she did.

Also, never forget to take photos of moments that mean something to you. One of my favorites, from 2014, when I went to be with my mom after my Grandpa passed away. I didn’t take nearly enough photos.