Friday, February 17, 2012

Mom

My mother died five years ago today, and, as I always say, while it doesn't get any easier, it does get better. Still, I can't shake the feeling that I get walking through the world these last five years, that if I turned around quickly enough, I would see her standing there. I heard someone say a couple of weeks back that when you are thinking of a person who has passed, it's because they're standing right behind you, so I see the comfort in that.
And, for some reason I have been dreaming of my Mother nearly every night for the last couple of months. Just normal dreams, talking and laughing; nothing nightmarish. Normal. I like them quite a bit; the only thing scary is wondering if they'll stop.
So, I'm going to repost what I've said the last few years about my Mom, and then just take the day off. Maybe to close my eyes and dream.......



Here it is, another of those "anniversaries" that you don't celebrate, and yet don't ever forget.

My Mom died of cancer five years ago today, and, while, as I've always said, it never gets easier, it does somehow get better.

As a child, we believe all sorts of things. We believe bunny rabbits sneak into our houses and leave money under our pillows in an exchange for an old tooth; we believe reindeer fly and an old guy in a red suit can come down your chimney--even if you don't have a chimney--bearing gifts.

And we believe our parents will live forever.

But as we grow, we learn the truth about bunnies with coins, and Santa Claus. We realize that many of our childhood wishes and dreams are just that, wishes and dreams, but, somehow, we still believe our parents will live forever.

And they don't.

I sit in my kitchen and I can picture my Mom across the table from me even though she never saw this house. If I hear a funny joke I hear her laughter. When I'm making dinner for Carlos and me, and I make enough to feed a family of ten, I think of my Mom and how she always made extra for leftovers.

Leftovers.

Leftover memories, but no new ones. And that's the scary part. I'll have no new memories of my Mom. So, today, especially, I'll remember the good memories of my Mom.

I'll remember how she ended every phone call with Bye bye sweetie, I love you.

I'll remember her smile. and her laugh. And how she'd say, in mock surprise, Bobby! every time I said or did something crazy.

I'll remember the time she died her hair platinum blond and I thought she was the most beautiful woman on earth.

And I'll remember her with no hair, undergoing cancer treatment and still thinking she was the most beautiful woman on earth.

I'll remember being in school on a cold rainy day and knowing that Mom would be home making Clam Chowder. The best chowder ever.

I'll remember my Mom pushing a snowblower around the deck at their house in Blue Canyon.

I'll remember coffee and crossword puzzles. Housecoats.

I'll remember our Day After Awards Show phone calls when we'd compare notes over who won, who wore what, and who we liked and didn't like.

I'll remember how she loved to paint, and how we have some of her work in our house now, and how proud I feel when people say they like it.

I'll remember how she welcomed Carlos into the family like he'd been there all along.

I'll remember how much she loved my Dad, and her kids, and her friends, and her dogs.

I'll remember Thanksgiving, with Mom doing all the cooking, and how much she loved doing that for her family and friends. 

I'll remember being there on that day, five years ago, when she left us, and feeling  grateful to have had her for as I long as I did, and feeling loved, and feeling happy that she was peaceful again.

I'll just remember.

I love you, Mom.

13 comments:

Stephen said...

Lovely... & she had to be amazing to have raised you.

I believe that by appearing your dreams, she is communicating with you & you are blessed.

Princess said...

A beautiful remembrance Bob...
Sometimes it feels like they are just in the next room... I get that feeling with my Dad.
Have a peace filled and restful day

Ask the Cool Cookie said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Ask the Cool Cookie said...

Very nice.

When my Mom died I was relieved that the cancer wasn't hurting her anymore and that our suffering through the disease was over.

What I miss most is that I can't pick up the phone and call her anymore. We used to have great long talks on the phone. There are so many things that I never got to ask her because I thought I knew the answer.

No matter how long they are gone, you never stop missing them.

froggy said...

xoxoxoxo
She raised a good son. :-)

Tiger Chanter said...

So sweet! ((HUGS))

Raybeard said...

A moving post, Bob. I lost my own mum six and a half years ago and can relate to a great deal of what you say - as I'm sure can just about everyone who has lost their own dearly loved mum. However, it's good to read posts like yours with that personal touch.

R.J. said...

A wonderful post that's worth sharing every year. It's been nine years since I lost my mom and it took me a few years to get used to the new normal. I still miss her.

Will J said...

Savor your dreams in the knowledge that she is always with you. As you have written - the hurt diminishes a bit, but the loving memories remain year after year after year (thanks be). You are a very fortunate man to have had such a woman as your mother.

BosGuy said...

Wonderfully touching post. I'm quite close to my family and dread the thought of my mother not being a part of my everyday life.

Jim said...

Very well thought and true from the heart Bob.
I can relate because my Mom died in April of 1993 and the memories are great.
Keep up the good work you do on your blog.

mrs.missalaineus said...

thinking of you and wishing i had a mom like that

xxalainaxx

Peter said...

Thanks for sharing, Bob.

My Mum is still alive but less kicking, healthwise she's going up and down, luckely [for us] at the moment it's up again. But in our hearts we know it could be any time now.

{{{{{BOB}}}}}