Memories or Lack Thereof

It's almost three o'clock in the morning and I still can't sleep. My bio-rhythm settings are a wild mess and I keep cycling into another and different rhythm. I'll probably sleep most of today again as I did yesterday. John and I seem to have different schedules, as far as our sleeping habits go.

So, as I was lying there, straining to gaze through the darkness (what I thought I'd see I have no idea), it occurred to me that Mother's Day is next month. I think - that particular day is not a big deal around here. And that started me thinking about my mother.

She died of a massive heart attack when she was 43 years old and I was 20. I was thousands of miles away from Toronto, Canada in Selma, Alabama and I remember my father flying through and between the Appalachians in his little twin engine plane, taking us both to the last rites of his ex-wife.

I remember how she looked in her casket. Scared the hell out of me.

But I can't remember any tender moments in my life with her. No hugs, no kisses, no 'I love you's'. It's just a big blank, except for the time she slapped my face and threw me out the back door. Not as bad as it sounds; I had lipped her something awful. Although the actual words are lost in the mists of time, I know I deserved what I got. I could have a tongue like an adder. All I remember is standing at the foot of the back door steps, holding a tea towel and looking up at the light streaming through the window.

It hurts this is all I can remember of my mom in any great detail. Because I did love her and I think she loved me and her other children. I also think she was one of those women who put her husband first and foremost and when she lost him, her world went to pieces. I harbored the thought for years that perhaps she wanted to die. It was her third heart attack and she wouldn't do anything the doctors told her. This was way before interventional cardiology, but they still preached diet, to quit smoking, and to get regular exercise.

I'm glad my sister Maureen and I say 'I love you' a lot. As we did with our youngest sister, Lynda who died of breast cancer at barely 50 years of age. It took me years to learn to say it without squirming and feeling embarrassed but I'm glad I did. It's what in my heart and you may be sure if I say it, I mean it.

But I wish I remembered more of my Mom.


**This piece was started last week. I think. Anyway, not today.

Because I like it and want to keep it.

Happy Birthday, Lynda

More Pics

 

Ari last Christmas with her rocking horse.

 

Lori and Wade at work (heh)

 

Urs got his teeth fixed!

 

Work is never done - neverending job.

The Many Faces of Arianna

 

Ari's just found out she's not going shopping but to the doctor ...

 

At the zoo, waiting for the train to start rolling.

 

Mother and daughter.   ♥ ♥

 

Mother Pam is my friend and I've fallen in love with her daughter, altho Pam assures me she's a little devil at home.  0.o

Jingle Bells

I feel like it's Christmas in April.  Some preorders I'd completely forgotten about downloaded to my Kindle sometime last night.  :-D

Reflections

I've been contemplating the last decade or so of my life and there's been one bright spot, one person who's made it all worthwhile.
I don't tell her enough what she means to me because I'm  not a very effusive person. I'm trying to get over that but it's an uphill battle. Introverted rather than extroverted.

Lori brought me out of my shell in many ways and we had a grand time there for awhile. Lately though, I feel like I'm sliding backward and this is not a good thing.  Lori is always there for me and I hope she always will be.

True friendship is to be treasured when you find it. There are different friendships maybe, for different times in our lives. Some of them don't last, some last forever, some are found later in life. All of them are precious.

Love you, Lori. I want to be like you when I grow up.