Tuesday, March 03, 2009


I hold a mug of tea in my hand, breathing deep the steam, grateful for its warmth. The mid-morning sun falls on my back as I sit on the couch in jeans and an oversize sweater. Doyle is asleep next to me and Malcolm is snoring softly at the opposite end of the sofa. All of us are tired. I'll be napping soon, too.
Sick at home since the day before, I am restless but too tired to do anything about it. Whatever this sinus-thing is, it came about quickly and has knocked me around quite soundly. I'm missing work, but I wouldn't say that I'm "missing" work. Also, its Wednesday and I am missing comic book day so I know I'm sick.
The phone rings; I answer it. I talk to my Dad as I sip my tea. He marvels that March is already here - or soon will be - and how time flies. As Dad continues to talk, I think about Mom's birthday which would have been celebrated on March 3rd. It is the 24th birthday that she has missed and, as I listen to Dad, I wonder what Mom would have been like at 71 years of age.
71 years old...
I wonder how she would have felt about being a grandmother? She would have been a great Nana. Mom always loved kids and she couldn't wait to be a Nana. Obviously, she never got the chance.
I wonder what she would think of my career choices, my college career, my life? I know that she'd love Jenna - would she like the man her son became?
I wonder about her life. Would she have gone back to nursing, as she always intended to do? Would she have traveled to the great state of Florida? Or, better yet, to Ireland? Mom was all about family. Would we get together as a family one Sunday a month? Probably? Christmases? Heck, yes. Grandchildren would have been involved. Would her home - my childhood home - still be filled with her special brand of love?
Yes, it would.
As Dad and I say our goodbyes I wonder what Dad thinks about when these anniversaries approach? Does he think of them at all? Or, as with other events in his life, does he not do so because it is too painful and non-productive? I choose not to ask him over the phone. I'll ask him in person - someday.
The phone is back in the cradle and my empty mug is set back on the coaster. Malcolm stirs slightly and Doyle lays on my chest as we all reposition ourselves as I lay down to take a nap.
I close my eyes.
In my minds eye, I visit with Mom as I drift off to sleep.
And, in my dreams, I wonder...


Blogger Fox In Detox said...

You know the answers to your questions, and you can be proud of them. Beautiful post friend.

7:33 AM, March 04, 2009  
Blogger Cynthia said...

The grief of a parent never really goes away; it takes different forms throughout our lives.

My dad would have been 71 this year too. I too am wondering. A lovely post.

Take heart, dear friend and be well.

5:24 PM, March 04, 2009  
Blogger 1st Lady said...

Tears in my eyes. Such a lovely post about your mum.

1:33 PM, March 21, 2009  

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