HEARTH & HOME
Love Hurts
By Vi c k i Fr e n c h B e n n i n g t o n
T
he deeper you are loved, the more it hurts when the
object and giver of that love is gone. The more you love,
the worse it is when that person is not there to love.
This will be the first Mother’s Day without my mom
– Inez French - a woman who thought her four children
(I’m third in line), and all of her subsequent grandchildren were what
made the world go ‘round. We were deeply loved.
And we all loved her in return.
I’ve heard people claim that they don’t allow themselves to love as
much as they might if they weren’t afraid of getting hurt or feeling loss.
But as bad as it now hurts – still hurts terribly, even six months after her
death – I can’t imagine not having felt her love or not letting myself love
her as protection for possible hurts.
Of course, there are many kinds of love. A mother’s love is said to
be automatic (at least, for most people), and for my mom, it certainly
was. Though she was an accomplished real estate broker and business
woman, and involved in the community, she felt we were her real
purpose in life. And that didn’t change when we became adults.
Sometimes, she showed us this love by worrying so we didn’t have
to. At least that’s what my older brother, David, would always say. He
jokingly said she did enough worrying for everybody, so there was no
need for us to worry - she would do it for us.
Other times, she would show her love by cooking, and then look on
happily as we ate the food she made.
Loving us unconditionally was another way. You felt it. She looked at
you, and you knew she was thinking how great you were. And I have to
say that’s a pretty good feeling. Not that many people - other than your
mother - think that way.
My dad died 15 years before my mom, but before she died last fall, I
think I still had at least a speck of a little girl inside me, because I was
still somebody’s “kid.” Now, I guess I’m a big girl, but I have to say, “It
is hard.” It's almost like you are giving up a little piece of yourself, too.
So many times since then, I’ve wanted to ask her a question. And it’s
kind of crazy, but sometimes your brain briefly forgets - even though I
think about her every day - but for that one second, I actually think I
will pick up the telephone and call her.
I don’t know how long it takes to “get over” it, and maybe you
never do; or maybe I never will. Perhaps everyone feels that way when
grieving, and then, time begins to heal the hurt. I consider myself lucky
(as my siblings do) because she was a wonderful mother, and she lived a
long and healthy life until her last few months. You have to count your
blessings and know that life has to go on. I know she would want it
that way. She wouldn’t want me or any of our family
members to be sad. She wanted us to be nothing but
happy. That’s the way she was.
Bennington is Gazelle’s executive content manager
and senior writer, and an award-winning journalist and
editor, whose work has been published in newspapers,
business journals, historical books, Fortune 500 company
literature, websites, and various other publications. She is
co-author of the nonfiction book, “A Life In Parts.”
Inez and Vicki (third and fourth from left) with a few more of the girls in the family
SAVVY I SOPHISTICATED I SASSY
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