What can I say, Mom? Words fail me at this moment. And yet I want to, need to mark this day as something significant to me and those who shared my love for you. I don’t want to sort through photos nor do I want to read the words that so many friends and family left on the website Tony did for you. What I really want to do is visit the cemetery, place some pretty flowers near the grave marker and just sit a while and remember. But I’m too far away to do that. So instead, maybe I’ll go pick up a pretty flower or two in town and in the mean time I’ll remember. Not sad thoughts of this day one year ago, but happy thoughts of years gone by.Thoughts of you singing “How Much is that Doggie in the Window” to your little straggler – one who no doubt wore you to a frazzle day in and day out.
Thoughts of you giggling while working in the yard with Dad and watching me try to ride my much bigger, much older sister’s bike. I couldn’t sit on the seat and reach the pedals so I sat on the bar and my knees reached way out to the side like a frog.
Thoughts of you fixing fudge and popcorn for a snack on Sunday afternoon.
Thoughts of you and I shopping for a sailor dress for the newest granddaughter.
Thoughts of you sinking down on the piano bench next to me, putting your arm on the piano and your head on your arm and laughing yourself silly when Dad sang, "the load was oh so heavy upon my hairy back", then finished the song having absolutely no clue what he'd done wrong
Thoughts of you and I playing Skip-Bo on the bed in the middle of the night in Pennsylvania when Dad was away working and neither of us could sleep.
Thoughts of you craftily getting Dad to take you out for supper the night of my first date with Tony so he wouldn’t be at the house to intimidate him.
Thoughts of you laughing with my mother-in-law-to-be when you both realized that you’d chosen the same suit for our wedding – purple for you, teal for Betty.
Thoughts of you gasping in sheer horror when I turned from just having eaten a dill pickle to popping a piece of your fabulous fudge in my mouth (I was pregnant for Britnee and we decided it must be the sweet/sour combo).
Thoughts of you acting like you didn’t want Dad to kiss you in public, but secretly delighting in it, I think.
Thoughts of you taking care of me and my little girl when I was so terribly sick with another baby incognito.
Thoughts of you instructing Dad to, “Pray, Art, pray!” when Janae did her color show for us and turned all shades of purple that infamous night in 1998.
Thoughts of you bringing down a huge bag of MORE pink clothes the night before I was to be induced for our third daughter and then beaming with love and admiration when the labor and delivery was over and I’d survived it even with the administration of Pitocin that you so adamantly hated any of us girls to have to endure.
And the last and final thoughts of you being able to recognize Dad during the times you were awake in your final week on this earth. Patting his cheek and telling us all, “This is my husband and I love him.”
I love you, Mom, and as I sit here with tears pouring down like rain, I think Kahlil Gibran said it best with this statement, “When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”
Thanks for the memories!
