Friday, July 10, 2015

I wonder how long....

It's amazing, the dates you remember as time goes on.    Some are of the best memories you have and some are of the worst.    I thought, after my mom died, that I wouldn't always recognize the day.  I said I wouldn't.   I promised I wouldn't.   But, I can't just let the day pass without mentioning it.
It just seems too fresh, still.  Only 2 years.
I was listening to the oldies station at work yesterday, and the song "Take Good Care Of My Baby" came on.  Mom always said this song reminded her of me.   She said it was her song to my "future" husband, if and when I got married.    When I heard it yesterday, it made me laugh a little, because now I had a baby up in Heaven, who I was sure is with my mom.  That song has so much MORE meaning now.

I still cry when I think of my mom, when I miss her and when I need her.   On the way home from work, some days, I feel guilty, because I can't remember if I thought of her that day.  Then I realize, that I always do.   There is always some reminder.   A song, a scent, a phrase.  Lots of phrases, in fact.  I was even reading a book a few nights ago, where a character in the story used one of my Mom's familiar lines.   It struck me.   Times like that, I think that's Mom sending me a message.  I smelled her in my car the other day too.   It kind of freaked me out for a second.  I was a little shaken for a bit, whipping my head around to look in the backseat.  But then, I just smiled, like I always do, and was just glad that she visited.

There are times that I look at my mom's picture and have that sudden bolt of reality - "Oh my gosh, she's really not here anymore".   Almost as if you've been in denial, all this time.   It's such a sad realization.    I get so pissed off when I hear of, or see, friends who are feuding with their moms or dads, and are just not able to forgive something petty.   Dragging out the disagreement for far longer than necessary. In fact, it's never necessary.  It's usually just a hard headed person trying to prove a point.  If I could have those people feel my loss and my grief over my mom's death, but with their Mom or Dad as the subject, I am fairly certain they'd rethink it all.  Hell, I wish I'd had that day back, or even the fucking year.  

I hear myself sounding like her so much, lately.  Her phrases, her catch lines.   I actually like looking at my hands because they look so much like hers.    Over the weekend, I had my hand on the window ledge, as we were driving down the road.   I said to Jeff, "I can't believe how much my hands look like my Mom's.  It's liking look at hers!"  I don't know how many people end up with their parents' hands, as opposed to eyes, or nose.  But I love it.

  More than anything, I wish I could hear my mom's laugh, or see her smile.  I miss her voice.
The text messages and the voice mails.   Her sense of humor.   Maybe I miss how she'd come to my house and make the bed, and do the dishes.  What a riot.  ; )

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