Monday, November 21, 2011

I miss you Mom

It's been three years since my mom died.  It feels so long ago.  I've travelled quite a road since then!

After she died I wondered if I would ever be able to remember her fondly again.  At the time all I felt was..... nothing.  I think the months, even years, before her death had sucked every identifiable feeling right out of me.  I felt completely devoid of any emotion, except perhaps relief.  Your mother dies and you feel relief, how horribly sad is that? 

It scares me now, when I look back and realise what an emotional train-wreck I was at the time.  I don't think I even realised how low I had sunk.  In hind-sight, that's probably the reason my blog died at around about that time.  I had too much stuff to work through and it was too personal and too scary to expose to the world at large.

For so long if I ever thought about my mom at all, the picture I'd have of her in my mind would be that stick-like figure that caused me so much grief; I just couldn't see past that.  But it's true what they say, time heals all wounds and, although it's been a painfully slow process, I am at the point now where every now and again a random happy memory will cause me to stop and smile. 

I had just such a thought the other day that made me chuckle to myself and I'd like to share it with you today, because today, on the anniversary of her death, this is the mom I'd like to remember: the funny, nutty, quirky, irreverent mom, who made me laugh.

Background:
Having lived next door to each other for a number of years, my parents had just moved to the coast, about 3 hours drive away from us.  My mom was a very social person (I certainly didn't inherit that particular gene!) and for the first time in living memory I think she was lonely and, although she would never admit it, I think she was missing me!

A few years before this, Roxy was in a ballet production of Peter Pan and she danced in a scene to this song.  You're going to need to listen to the lyrics, or you're not going to understand what follows.



On the day in question, my phone rang and when I answered, these are the words my mom sang to me, to the tune of "When You're Alone":

When you're all alone...
Even in your home....
It is shit....
just to sit....
All on your own.....

It still cracks me up!

That was her unique and unexpected way of letting me know she missed me!  And I truly never thought I'd see the day I'd say this, but I miss her too.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

My wife died recently at a young(ish) age. I cared for her almost to the very end. At first it seemed that I could remember only the trauma. But now, the picture is filling out again -- becoming more whole. At first, I was numb. Then there came a time where the emotions seemed to catch up with the images of what had happened -- and that was the most difficult time for me.

Gill said...

@Anonymous: I am so sorry for your loss. How wonderful that you were able to care for your wife almost to the end.

Grief is a strange thing, I think it allows us to deal with the emotions of loss at the rate at which we can cope with them - hence the initial numbness.... well that's my take on it anyway.

Teena in Toronto said...

Nice remembrance of your mom.

I am busy ruminating on an updated bucket list - it's a lot more difficult than one would think!  The last time I created a bucket...