Thursday, September 08, 2011

Another Year Passes

Four years ago today my mother passed away. It seems so weird to write that … for many, many reasons. I still remember every facet of that day in seemingly oddly crisp detail. Not sure that time will diminish that memory in any way, shape or form. But I would be kidding you all if I didn’t say that not a day goes by that I don’t miss the hell out of my mom. And I don’t think that I have some idealized version of her memory that I am clinging to… My mom was a great woman, but man could we go rounds on some of the most petty stuff. She could push your buttons with the best of them. I think what I miss most is the relationship we were suppose to have at this point in our lives. I have so many questions that I didn’t even know needed to be asked. I think about my sisters and brother that said good bye to their mother before their adult lives had really started to take shape. My dad losing his wife of 34 years right as they were at that point in their lives where they were free to pick up all the things they loved to do but that with a family, aren’t the priority of the day. The mantra of “its unfair” seems to resonate the most. And it sounds petty, and selfish and bitter to say that, but quite frankly – it is unfair. Death, while inevitable, is unfair to those that are left in its wake.


In the last four years I have gotten married and had two children (ok, you got me, not in THAT order and believe me, she would have had plenty to say about that) But, these life events, THOSE were the things that my mother was waiting for. That was the joy she was waiting to experience. Seeing us grow into the people we were supposed to be. Playing with her grand kids. Reveling in the challenges of watching me parent and wanting equally to help out and just sit back and giggle with the been-there-done-that-got-a-dozen-tshirts grin on her face. I don’t think that she thought our lives were incomplete at the time, but she had the life experience behind her to know that there was SO much more waiting for us down whatever path we chose to follow.

I am not as sad today as I have been in the past. There is some truth to the adage that time heals wounds. I am not healed, as much as it has dulled a little bit. Part of it is you steel yourself against days like today, birthdays, holidays… you mentally prepare yourself for the inevitable sense of loss that hits you. And when you are prepared for it, its not as overwhelming. But then it sneaks up on you on average days, where nothing special is being celebrated or commemorated. When you are walking down the steps in your house and your 2 ½ year old passes a picture of your mom that has been hanging there since you moved in and he looks at you and says “That’s Grandma” – and keeps walking with a little toddler grin, so proud that he can not only identify the faces in pictures, but tell you who they are. Not really knowing who that is, other than the fact that his mom reminds him every day of this person who isn’t in his life, but is everywhere in his life.

In an attempt not to be Debbie Downer (too late probably), I did want to share some things about my mom that made me laugh. Two things that for whatever reason stick with me…

Cursing like a sailor. I don’t remember the first time I heard my mom curse. And I mean really curse. Not the errant God Dammits or Jesus Christ that slip from our lips when our kids are around. And they do, at an alarming rate. No, I was easily in my teens, maybe even late teens, before I heard my mom cuss for realz. And yes, with a “z” for real. And I soon learned that my mother put your average sailor to shame. My favorite of hers, alternately directed at my father and Richard (the bestest neighbor), was “eat shit and die.” It resonates, doesn’t it? Concise, to the point, and elicits a nice mental picture. Yeah. Its a good one and she was quite fond of it.

The other thing that still brings a smile to my face is an odd one. My mother couldn’t curl her tongue. You have seen dozens times dozens of people do it. From a toddler to a grandparent. Apparently, it’s a genetic thing. So somewhere in the Phillips line is a whole segment of my family that can’t curl their tongue. And. It. Drove.Her.Crazy. She would sit there and try and try. She would wrap her tongue around her finger and through all of that say “See, I can do it”. Except it sounded more like, “Bee, I stand loo it” because she had her hand in her mouth.

Those are the things I acutely remember. Along with a million other things that make a person who they are. And for the record, no, I don’t remember her ever swearing while trying to curl her tongue. Now THAT would be a memory.

Now Listening: For Emma, Forever Ago by Bon Iver