The Remembering Place

I graduated from college in May of '92

My mother was diagnosed with cancer later the same year

For her next Mother's Day,

I bought a simple notebook and began making a list...

a stream-of-consciousness-of-sorts

one-liners and simple sentences or single words

detailing things I was thankful for,

things I remembered from 22 years

things she had done for me, given to me

loved me through and taught me.

It was with that notebook,

that I started writing, the way I now journal and blog,

as a list

rather than paragraphs

in small thoughts and

short phrases

So

Here it is

almost 13 years since I lost her

and the list of things I have remembered,

in the time I have been without her,

could

fill

volumes

The things I have missed about her,

and

the moments when I have

needed her

and longed for her company

advice

support

wisdom

comfort

understanding

friendship

and love

cannot even be itemized or listed.

The number would be too great.

But, alas

I am in my

Remembering Place.

I sit here

in this Place,

around this time,

each year,

leading up to The Day,

the mark on the calendar

when she left here

and went There.

Sometimes I am sad

Sometimes it is hard

Very Hard

I cry a lot

A Lot

But I am not depressed

I am not hopeless

I am not in a pit of despair

or stuck in the Remembering Place

I just really, really, really

love my mother

and miss her.

Especially this week.

Every Year.

So

Here is a short list of things I am missing today

Her voice

Her laugh

Her teeth

Her smile

The paper-thin, freckled and wrinkled skin on her hands

Her salt-and-pepper hair

Her straw purses and cheap shoes

Her wind-suits and elastic-waist pants

Her red lipstick and black mascara

The slope of her shoulders and roundness of her belly

(and the way that same belly shook when she laughed really hard)

The way she hung on every word I said

The way her eyes sparkled when she looked at me

The way she loved to play board games

Her nails tapping on the side of her tea cup while she was thinking

The cheese toast she ate for breakfast

Her scent. Oh.I.Miss.The.Way.She.Smelled.

Her box of coupons for grocery shopping

I miss sitting next to her at church and listening to her sing

I miss her calling to tell me about Regis and Kathy Lee

I miss watching her read the paper every day

I miss watching her eat popcorn

I miss watching Murder, She Wrote together in the den

I miss having a mother.

I miss having someone love my children, the way I know she would

I miss getting to introduce her to my children

I miss that she never got to admire my son's character

or witness Tatum's compassion

or revel in the news that she has twin grandbabies.

I miss my kids getting little treats in the mail from her.

I miss her validation.

Her admiration of me.

I miss her words and hugs and kisses.

I miss---

that no matter

how great

or how bad

how hard

or how amazing

Any Day

Any Event

Any Moment

Any Success

or Any Failure

might be...

I am unable to share it with her

I am unable to relive it with her

That Is What I Miss The Most

I miss getting to share who I am

who I have become

who I am hoping to one day be...

with her

when she is so utterly and completely

involved with why I am any of those things

That Is What I Miss The Most

I miss getting to see her in her 60s, 70s and 80s

I miss seeing how she would have grown and become

more of who she already was

and how we would have laughed and cried together

about

Everything

That Is What I Miss The Most

But

I

know,

I am loved

I am known

I am understood

and I am secure.

Because she is a part of everything I do

and everything I am

because I was

Mothered

by her.