Every year this day sneaks up on me.
I have a dear, old friend who has the unfortunate distinction of having his birthday be the same day as the day my Mom died, nineteen years ago today. Every year, when I wish him a happy birthday, I'm reminded of that day in 1991. I'm reminded of how fragmented my family has become, and I'm reminded of the woman I had just begun to get to know as an adult, rather than as a difficult, angry teenager. I always loved her, but I had just started figuring out how much I actually liked her as a person, and not just as my Mom.
There's so much I never had a chance to ask- what was I like as a baby/small child? Did she have any boyfriends before dad and what were they like? What was it like when her Mom died? What deep, dark family secrets could she have told me?
I have a good life now- I have my own little family with the Mr. and our furry menagerie, I have my in-laws that I adore, I have my sisters (that occasionally drive me insane like sisters do, but I still love them to death), I have old, dear friends that I would walk over red-hot coals for if they needed me to, and I'm lucky to have a nice, comfortable place to call home.
But still- I can't help but think that, without her, I'm missing a very big piece of the picture. When things are bad, when I screw up in the huge ways I tend to screw up, or the Universe sees fit to heap a big pile of steaming shit onto my plate, those are the times that feel that deep, deep void in my belly.
I will probably always feel this way, which is fine. This feeling over the years has made me a better person- I've fought hard to get to the point I'm at today, and I work harder to maintain the relationships that really matter. I may not be able to ever really fill the void she left, but I really don't think that is the point anyways. We don't need to fill the empty seats as much as we need to make sure the party goes on with whomever is left at the table.
So I raise my glass to you, Marie. You sure are missed.
7 comments:
My mom died in 1973 and I still miss her to this day.
A big hug to you. I cannot imagine. You are so blessed with your life - she would be proud.
I think that your mom would have been really proud of the way you turned out.
Hugs
what a great tribute you must be to her, everyday
You look a lot like her and I'm sure she is with you in many ways. You said a lot in this little blog post. My thoughts are with you.
More hugs from me.
I missed this little jewel of a post until today.
Well I certainly see where you get your good looks from. And I can relate. My dad died when I was 25 and I sometimes miss the adult relationship with him.
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