More Mom Thoughts...

Might as well keep going with this, since the brain seems to be freed up and able to think about it.....

If we had a grave-site, I would get an anniversary card, and sign it, and leave it by her headstone. Because I firmly believe that regardless of her physical presence or absence, she & dad have been married 50 years on Hallowe'en. Just because we can no longer see someone doesn't mean they no longer exist.

I believe in an after-life, and I believe that my mother is risen with Jesus Christ, and is even now enjoying the company of her family who preceded her, including the 2 siblings who died before I was born. That doesn't stop me from missing her, of course, but it comforts me, and gives me the hope of seeing her again, someday.

We don't have a grave-site. I never used to think that a physical location really mattered - I've never been one to visit cemeteries and talk to the dearly departed. But I bookmarked the obit page from the funeral home, and I visit that sometimes, in lieu of a cemetery, I guess. I intend to someday create a memorial webpage for her, but I've just not been ready yet. I think I want to get through this year, first. This year of firsts.

Dear Mom...

I know I'm usually late with the anniversary cards, if they even get mailed at all, but this year I wanted to be a little early. I wanted to let you know that I'm thinking of you, and I love you. I'm going home to spend the weekend with Dad - I'm thinking he probably doesn't really want to be alone this weekend. Or maybe he does, but at least he'll have the option, and he'll know that I was thinking of him, and cared enough to do a little more than just think. Aunt Ruth & I will take him out to dinner this weekend, not as an anniversary thing, but just as a "Hey, Dad - we love you and thought you'd enjoy a nice steak dinner" kind of thing.

He misses you, Mom. And so do I.

Gawd, I hate admitting that. I can picture you sitting there smiling, enjoying the fact that I'm having to admit how much I loved you, how important you were to me. You know that I don't like admitting the deep emotions, that I like to pretend I'm hard-boiled, even though I'm not.

I wonder... I say I'm going home for Dad. Am I really? Or am I running home hoping that he'll comfort me, while I'm missing my mommy?

Then again, does it really matter why, as long as we're together?

Comments

[shannonblogs]

I'm glad you are still writing about this. In all the blogs I read, yours touches me the most. My mother is still alive. My daughter's mother (me) is still alive. But I know that each of us would feel the exact same way that you do, if we lost each other. You inspire me to appreciate them so much more, to relish and cherish the times that we have together.

I hear my daughter's voice in your words. If (probably when) I do leave her to join with my Jesus finally, she will grieve and live out your very words. I wish I could point her to you when that happens, because I think there is some sort of comfort in the knowledge that others have gone before you and survived.

Can you take comfort in knowing that you'll see her again one day in heaven and you'll have eternity to be friends?