Thinking back ~
Trying to face the reality of it, of her not being there…… I don’t think I’ve really accepted it. I can’t even think in past tense when I think of her, even present tense is enough to get the tears flowing. It’s not real. Not to me. In sure it’s partly consciously denying what intellectually I know is fact, partly subconsciously protecting myself from the unthinkable. How do i live in a world where my Mom, my anchor, my moral yardstick for almost everything i do, have done , my entire life, doesn’t
This isnt the first loss. It’s not as of its entirely a new experience. We lost my Dad when I was barely 12. He had been sick for almost 2 years by then, and it was not a surprise, Even though he was only 40 when he died. (See,i can say that word) some of my clearest memories of childhood are of hospital rooms, trips to the Mayo clinic in Minn., times in between when it was like he wasn’t sick, and life was”normal”; bird watching, backpacks, frogs in my pockets, fishing, his CBer friends taking up our street with greyhound busses in the middle of winter stopping by for coffee. Before dawn. LOud busses.
Him building CBs in the study, letting me keep my nose poked in, sipping his beer when I thought? Mom couldn’t see. (She saw). *helping* him build the huge CB antenna next to the house so he could talk to Fla. (Yeahq he got in trouble for that one. Thing was taller than our house. Including 2.rathe attic) Mom putting up with it. With the mayo jars we trapped bugs in to pin to boards for his college courses.
Dealt With his CBers stopping by and crowding into the study, with me being their silent mascot soaking it all in. with me sipping beer. Liquor store beer. Stein house.( Don’t know why I remember that name) She hated alcohol. But she kept quiet.
Handled going to the jamborees, vests and all. going to various other gathering s of lots of loud drinking CBers with barely a protest. And believe me, camping was the last last thing Mom wanted to do. But she didh it. Mostly. For us. For me. Because she knew we were having fun. Knew that it wasn’t going to be long before he couldn’t anymore.
.The convoy into winnepeg that one year for an award of Some kind. My sis and i in the cabover watching thru the front window -the line of all of chapter 3 MinnIWis being escorted into the city. Boy did we ever think we were something. Wish I could remember why we Went there. Wish i could ask Mom. Wish i could ask a lot of things. So many things.
Wish i had more time. Lots more. More choices more insight. Or just time. Time to appreciate.
About all I can handle of that. Took forever to hit publish on this one feels like i could go on forever. Basic idea ~ Mom is way more awesome than i realized when I was young. We never know when we’re kids do we? Good thing Moms are moms , which means they know we’ll figure it it sooner or later.
Give your mom a hug friends. She deserves it. Peace.