Tonight my thoughts have been about my mom. She died 7 1/2 months ago. It seems so long ago and like yesterday all at the same time. Our relationship was different that many mother/daughter relationships. We weren't super close. I lived over 1000 miles away and in the last 3 years of her life I only saw her 7 times. We spoke on the phone semi-often but it was strained...on my end anyway. I had the chance to spend a week with my parents, without Ken or the kids, last January. The last time I saw my mom was when I hugged her goodbye at the airport. I told her I loved her and we hugged. I got teary eyed, promised her I'd be back in the summer to visit her and hugged her again and told I loved her again. As I waited in line to check my bag I turned back and watched dad drive away. At that moment I said to myself and maybe in a prayer also, I will see her again won't I? We knew she was sick with something but her cancer had not yet been discovered, even though it had already metastisized. Less than 2 weeks later we learned her cancer was back and 28 days after that we drove straight through from Kansas to Bremerton to attend her funeral.
I'm not telling you all this to get sympathy. At this moment, my blog is my journal or therapist. Here are some things I want to remember...or maybe I don't want to forget. Is that the same thing?
Mom thought Willow Tree Statues were creepy. Why don't they have face? It's just weird. She had 1 and it was on display in entertainment center, turned backwards. She didn't want to look at it. I was at home this weekend and it's still there, backs turned on everyone. It makes me laugh when I think about it now.
She wore big hair. She LOVED her big hair. When she was going through chemo the first time, I kind of thought she thought she lost her identity because she didn't have her beehive. When she finished chemo and her hair started growing back, she was the most beautiful I've ever seen her in my life. I wish she would have felt it or could have seen it. This time she was only on chemo for a couple weeks but it was long enough that she started losing her hair. Less than 48 hours before she died Gina gave her a haircut. She didn't shave her, but it was really short. Once again she looked very pretty. I feel sad that she didn't look like herself in her casket because her hair wasn't long and in an updo, even though Gina did a beautiful job on her hair.
She told me many times that she liked to practice the piano because she felt closer to her mom when she practiced than anywhere else. When I practice I just cry a lot. It takes me hours to get through my 'hour a day' and then I just feel more and more insecure about my abilities. She was so sure of herself in that area!
My birthday is in 10 days. Her's is 26 days after mine. We are 30 years apart and Nicole and I are 20 years apart. I loved the year we were 60, 30 and 10. I'm sad we won't see 63, 33 and 13. It actually makes me nauseated thinking about it.
There is no good way to end this post. I miss her. A lot. I'd like to talk to her about my kids and homeschooling and how to get the timing right on the piano piece I'm working on. I'd also like to invite her over for dinner because this is the first place I've ever lived that she hasn't seen. I think she would have loved my new couches. Now how silly is that?
Please don't feel obligated to comment on this post. I think that is all for tonight.
Dedra,
ReplyDeleteI've been thinking about your mom a lot lately. You were probably too little to remember, but my greatest memories of your mom are when I came and stayed for a few weeks when I was about 7. It was really fun, but a couple of memories really stand out--she put a 12 year old neighbor girls hair up in a beehive (and let me tell you, Aunt Charlet's hair was a LOT bigger back then!). Also, on my last day there, a brunette girl in pigtails came in the house--and I didn't recognize that it was your mom with her hair down and not blondish! The big hair was definitely a part of her.
I miss my mom all the time. I can't believe we are coming up on our 10 year anniversary. I still pick up the phone to call her. It does get a little less painful--but it never goes away.
I love you, Dedra. I really, really do. I love your mom too because she is partly responsible for the fantastic person you are.
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