It’s odd when you are an adult yet miss your Mama as if you were still five. I do miss mine, and she’s been gone now for nearly six years.
Oh there are the typical moments when one would expect to miss a parent who has died, when something big happens in my or my family’s lives, when anyone is sick, when I am extraordinarily happy, or extraordinarily sad. I still go to the phone every time I return from a trip to call her, that little ritual that always seemed so sweetly silly as though the only time I was ever in danger was when I was returning home…
It took me years to get the image of her dying eyes from mine. Those blue blue pools which tried so desperately to tell me what was going on but could not begin to describe to me the path she was taking. It took the same time to blur the memories of those last few difficult months when she struggled with the indignities of her demise and had no one to take it out on, except for me. But now, the healing breath of time has returned to me, little by little, the lovely memories, the joys, the remembrance of my wonderful Mother, my friend. I miss her.
But what I wanted to talk of here were the odd things you miss. Not being able to ask her how she cooked her beets (did she ever cook beets?), or if I ever used to steal her makeup like my daughter does. I miss being embarrassed by her, and worrying about her, and loving her in a thousand ways. Her history is lost to me, and with it is such a part of mine, never to be known.
I don’t cry now, when I miss her. I smile with the memories, but with a tinge of regret for the questions unanswered, the time lost.
I wish I wish I had known that death was forever. I wish I wish I had known to ask these things, before….