Oh crap. It’s that time of year again when I am reminded in a more pronounced way that my mom has died.
Most of the year, I can be offhandedly crude about losing her:
Someone else: “how’s your mother?”
Me: “She’s dead.”
This is (obviously) a defense mechanism so I don’t have to feel (or deal with?!) the depth of my longing for her/missing her.
Although I have written (extensively before) about how she drove me bananas about my body,
on the weekend of the 4th anniversary of her death (7.8.2008) at the young age of 65, I choose to remember just the bright spots, which frankly are so many they usually eclipse the yucky stuff on the other days too.
My mom was a terrifically complicated woman. Warm, smart, crazy, feisty, wacky, passionate, gorgeous, loyal, self deprecating, generous, funny and spectacular. We loved each other to infinity and beyond.
I still love her. I like to think she still loves me from wherever she is.
Not a day (somedays not even an hour) goes by without my thinking of my mom Bunny.
I miss watching her try to dance (she was horrible). I miss listening to her sing along to who knows what or nothing (she had a terrible voice).
I miss being screamed at by her because she was pms (thanks mom!) or because I wasn’t dressed well enough (and while complaining about my attire, quite possibly my mom could’ve been wearing mismatched sweats!) or because I was missing the point about one thing or another.
I miss hugging and kissing her.
I miss her smell.
I miss her soft skin.
I miss hearing my mom tell me, every single day she lived, that she loved me. Really, everyday my mom told me. Frankly, every phone call- we talked too many times to count each day. I miss that too.
I miss hearing my mom tell me I’d lost the “song” in my voice- she could sense when I wasn’t feeling right…physically or mentally.
I do my best to find ways to have the “song” in my voice. Sometimes just thinking of my mom will make it happen.
I miss my mommy.
Four years later it still hurts the same.