Feb. 13, 1951-Oct. 2, 2022

Moving Out & Goodbyes

I was 24 by the time I moved away from home. I lived at home for so long because Mom told me it was the smartest thing to do financially, but really I think she couldn’t fathom living 30 minutes away from me.

The day before moving out, I went to visit Mom at work just to say “hi.” As I was leaving I saw a little girl in the courtyard in a Little Tikes pedal car. She stuck her tiny hand out the window to wave to her mom dropping her off. As she was pedaling away, I heard her shout “Bye-bye, Mommy” and off she went.

On moving day, I loaded up my car, quickly hugged Mom, and promised to call that evening. I felt sad but pushed the feelings aside and rushed out the door because I was being silly; I’d only be 30 minutes away.

I made it about halfway to my new apartment before the memory flooded my brain of the little girl waving.

The tears started to well and I quickly shifted into full car-cry mode. Before I knew it I was turning my car around.

When I arrived back at my parents’ house, she had been waiting for me. She always knew me better than I did. We hugged for as long as we both needed, cried, and told each other that we’d see each other every Sunday and call every day. After a lengthy goodbye, I felt ready to move into the next stage of my life, learning to live with without her day-to-day.

I tell this story because I find myself here again, this time spreading her ashes, in a new season of my life learning how to live without my mom.

I’m sad for all the stories I won’t get to tell about her like the one where she meets our baby or hears someone call her Grandma for the first time. I miss her; I miss my best friend.

And even though I can’t just turn my car around for one last reassuring hug, I know she’s always with me; the memory of a little girl waving “bye-bye Mommy.”

By Kate Evans