Memory Lane

Today Momma would have been 73. She died 9 and a half years ago and I miss her every day, but these "anniversaries" are so hard for me. What would she be like with the grandkids. The ones that she knew (from the younger generation of kiddos) will be 12 this year. The younger set of grandkids turn 8 this year. And they are all so different, so unique, and so .... amazing. Would she be as pleased with them as she was with the two year olds that she knew and spent so much time with during their early lives? Would she love the younger three as much as the older two? Does she now know the one in the middle that never took a breath in this world? Would she be proud of us, her children?

Oi..how I miss her. I want to hear her voice, the shake of her laugh, or even the edge of her voice when she's a little upset with us. I would take the hard edge over nothing every single day. 

I remember one of the days the spring before she passed where she and I were sitting together, talking while Blueberry watch The Backyardigans. I don't remember the specifics of the conversation, but I remember her being so unabashedly happy. So proud of the boy that her grandson was growing into. 

I remember the call, just weeks before she passed, when she called me and I was at work - I was a school bus driver in Havana at the time and not driving, but at the bus barn itself and Mom told me that my great-niece, Lindsay, had died. She was under 10 years old. I feel bad that I don't remember her exact age at the time, but I remember being heartbroken for her mother and father. And I was so grateful that I hadn't had to deal with that kind of loss.  If only I had known then that I only had another two weeks with my mother. And only one week before our 6-hour a day conversations would come to an end because she was in so much pain. 

Today, my heart aches. Today, I remember the good and the bad of our relationship and I want to hold them close, no matter how painful. I simply don't want to lose the connection - the only connection - to her that I have left. And I don't just ache for my relationship that I've missed out on with her because of a heart attack and doctors that didn't pay attention, but for the relationships that she could have had with all of her children and their children...the lack of a future of that relationship makes me ache with sadness for myself and all of us. I wish I could tell her that I love her, that I appreciate her, that I talk to my children about her every day. That my adopted family talks about her and what she means/meant to each of them all the time. 

I just want her to know that she is loved for now and always. 

Every year, for her birthday and the anniversary of her death, I try to do at least one nice/kind thing in the world. It doesn't make the loss better, but it lets me feel like her memory, her influence is still lingering in a world that changes every day in oh-so-many ways. I can't bring her back, but I can keep her with me in my heart and soul.

May everyone have a conversation about twitching mussels, bees, and all of life with someone that means so much to them. 

Happy birthday, Mommy.