My mom’s birthday is next week. We should be planning to celebrate her birthday with corn on the cob from a farmstand, and key lime pie for dessert. She wouldn’t have cared about any other part of the meal, just the corn and the pie. She loved her key lime pie! I think I may perhaps make a key lime pie, and celebrate her life anyway.
July 25 will be 2 years since she died. Sometimes it takes my breath away just how very much I miss her- and it seems like an absolute eternity since she left us.
Other times, I know she’s in a happy place, and not suffering, and I’m happy for her. I can smile and share stories of her with my children, sometimes without a single bit of sadness nor a hint of tears. Sometimes, when I’m not paying attention, it feels like she’s barely been gone at all. She kind of sneaks into things still, even now, 2 years later.
Today, in a suitcase. Yesterday, in a bin with some makeup brushes. Today, I wept. Yesterday, I laughed. You see, my mom travelled often in her last position, fighting hard to advocate for those with disabilities, all over the country. She had this awesome suitcase with all sorts of bells and whistles, and I realized last night that I’m going to be needing a much bigger suitcase for my trip than I’d anticipated. So I went to the basement and dug this one out, having totally forgotten dad gave it to me.
Opening it up, there was a little cosmetic bag. Nothing fancy, nothing special- but hers. True to mom, there were crumpled receipts, some coins and 3 different scented travel lotions. And her scent. Or the memory. It just took me by surprise, how strong her presence was just then.
I wept. I laughed. Laughed, because in my head I can hear my dad getting annoyed with both mom AND me for not putting things away when we were done with them- she never did. She probably had 20 cosmetic bags, many probably went to charity for donation right along with the bags they were stuffed into. Silly mom.
Yesterday, I laughed and laughed because apparently when helping mom go through some of her stuff in her bathroom on my last visit with her, we’d found some of her very old Mary Kay eye shadows. If you know Mary Kay at all, when I tell you they were the ones that you wet a brush and applied that way, in a pink compact, you will understand we’re talking 20+ year old eyeshadow. My mom very rarely wore makeup. Like once every 5-10 years wore makeup. Somehow I’d managed to stick one of the eyeshadow compacts into my stuff, and didn’t see it again until yesterday. Barely used, crumpled up and dried out like a desert. I had to laugh. Had to.
It felt good to laugh- too often, I cry. I miss her tons.
Sometimes, I wonder: What are MY kids going to laugh at when I’m gone? What are my crazy quirks that will make them groan, or roll their eyes, or blink really fast to fight back tears?[ad#glam between posts]0