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Monday, February 2, 2015

February...Already. Happy Valentine's Day...Mom.

On the 7th day of the 6th month in the year 2014, mom departed this life, my life, our lives.

It has been just about seven months, and I miss her terribly, especially on rainy days, of which this is one.

I feel like getting the Rose tattoo on my left shoulder with MOM in script beneath. She would NOT have liked that. Nor would she like my full, scraggly bear of a beard which I have been cultivating since Thanksgiving. She would have seen me around Christmas and complained and I would have shaved by now.

Instead I just sit here, dragging a comb through my face, and writing a love story about my mother.

Perspective. It is something one gains only with distance. Many can imagine distance. Then there are those with a lack of imagination, or imaginations drifting in different directions. Until one day, it suddenly becomes clear. You think of the time when some one was about to let you in on a pearl. A pearl of wisdom, and someone else shushed them. And now you wonder "what the hell was that all about?" 

Why I insist on learning everything the hard way is rooted deep in the old adage: "No Pain, No Gain." The rock I stand upon is the sense that I have earned my way. I know that could be seen as a fantasy since I am the recipient of white male privilege. Privileged to be male and white! Imagine, to be duty bound to sacrifice my life for the common good, a privilege! Wonder what mom would say about that! I know what she would say: "Don't be ridiculous," (she would say stupid, or dumb, but she would mean ridiculous).

Well, it hurts not to have my mother to talk to. We talked about nothing of import. Gossip about the family. How she was feeling, which she did not like to linger over. Her many and varied activities at the Pointe. In that talking though, there was an indescribable comfort.  And we knew, we both knew, the end was coming. I did not want to see it. Chose not to see it. 

There was a commercial during the day yesterday, maybe even during the Super Bowl. People born in 1914, 1916..I think it was a Dodge commercial. They all looked fantastic, spry, glowing at 99,100 years old. I wanted that for mom, for her to linger here till she was maybe 95. It was selfish of me. She was suffering. Now she is at peace.

And I am in the process of making my peace with that.