Coping and Making Memories

It’s hard to make happy family memories with your kids while your mother is slowly slipping away.

Impossibly hard.

Questioning God hard.

Crying alone in the dark late at night hard.

It’s so unfair.

Neither is it appropriate for my kids to see me moping through my life, mired in depression and self-pity. (Allie asks What happened? Why Mommy cryin’? Mommy sad? way more than I think is acceptable.)

When we’re not otherwise occupied with camps or playdates or helping Grandma and Pappy, we spend a lot of time at Hersheypark. It’s a convenient escape.

We hike up and down the hills in the sticky, sweaty air and blazing, hot sun, and we swim too long in the turbulent wave pool, and we wear ourselves out.

To complete exhaustion.

It’s harder to feel sad when your mind is busy thinking about how sore and tired your legs are and how prickly your sunburn is and how stiff your back is. You can’t think about two things at once.

Anyway, it works for me.

I paid way too much for these amazing photos of the girls in the splash park (or whatever this place is called). We don’t go to it very much because Grace says she hates it, but it doesn’t look to me like she hates it at all.

She’s allowed to be fickle and make no sense.

I bought the pictures because they made me smile. She captured my two children so perfectly.


Grace has her bathing suit on backwards.


There is no risk of drowning, but Grace is wearing her life jacket.


Allie removed her life jacket and left it somewhere.


I can hear them squealing and laughing.


The jets of water go up and down and cut out and restart unpredictably.


I hope Grace and Allie always get along as well as they do now. They play so nicely together – most of the time.


I wish my mom could play in the water with us. She has a season pass, but she’s never been able to use it. She’s never even gotten her picture taken for it.


I may not have much to say these next few days.

My heart is too heavy.

I’ll be back when I can come back. Please understand, and please check back in a week or so.

© 2013, Tara Ziegmont. All rights reserved.


  1. says

    Dear Tara,
    I’m sorry for your pain. I was there myself 6 years ago. it is a heart wrenching place to be. I’ll be praying that you feel the love and comfort of our Heavenly Father, and other believers!

  2. Cindy says

    Tara, I’m praying for you. We readers will still be here when you get back. Love you, lady. Much. (((hugs)))

  3. Amy Rockage says

    Moms are allowed to cry and be sad. My kids have seen me cry more times than I would like to admit and when they give you a hug to “make it better” I smile, because they are taking care of me :-)
    Sending you prayers and hugs… You are a great mom & I am glad you bought the pictures. They are beautiful!

  4. Kara says

    Oh, Tara. I’m so sorry this is happening to your family.

    There just isn’t anything good to say, is there? At least not anything that’s printable.

    In 2007, my mother died from breast cancer that metastasized into bone cancer. She was 48. I’m not telling you this to garner your sympathy or compete. You have my e-mail address, and I’m not shocked easily. Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger.

    I’m praying for you.

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