Hey, Mom
Hey, Mom.
Miss you every day, still. Don't cry about it too much anymore, but do more laughing. Think about all the fun times we had growing up and then as adults with you. So glad our kids knew you when you were full of fun and fearless, before your brain began to recede from all around you.
I posted a picture of you with Miah on his bike...you were still in your fearless mode, sporting your shamrock tattoo, your red crocs and a big ass smile. That smile is one I hold in my heart always.
Went on a trip a few weeks ago with the girls - these girls that I grew up with, and now am getting old with. We talked about our mothers, and how much they meant to us. I learned how all of our experiences with our mothers shape us into mothers and into people who at some point teach our children to parent, whether they have kids or not. These mothers of my friends, they were so much more than I ever thought they were. I hope that the next generation thinks that about us.
I do remember thinking, back in the day, that you were one of the cool moms, even if we did get slapped around sometimes (hey - I know I deserved it!). You played in the street with all of us, you spoke to everyone at the stores, you were buddies with Greg, too, at a time when people didn't understand adults who still thought like children. You went on all the rides with us, teaching us to laugh on those scary ones, and put our hands up in the air at the highest point of the roller coaster.
I know you drank, but I don't ever remember you being drunk, or doing anything foolish at parties, especially at our house. You laughed all the time, and sang a lot too. It was my pleasure to be in all those shows with you, and sing with you as well. You taught me to have no fear on a stage, or when talking with people I didn't know, to strut my stuff as needed, keep it low key when not needed.
You must have known we stole your cigarettes, drank your beer and watered down your liquor, grew pot plants in our rooms, and did other things, too, in our rooms! You never gave us that hard of a time over the growing parts of teenhood, even though I'm sure you were not happy about some of what we did. Nancy probably paid the higher price for those actions - she was always the one most like you.
Fleeting scenes of you in action often flit across my brain, like an old movie in black and white. There isn't sound, but there is lots of action. I imagine you seeing our daily lives now, and being proud of us as parents who are doing the best we can do, as people who laugh at life and work hard, too.
As I drove to the Post Office today, where the Hallmark store is (ok, the "Paper Store"), I saw so many people going in to buy cards and Mother's Day gifts. I got a bit sentimental, knowing I don't need to buy a card for you, knowing the last Mother's Day you were with us wasn't special as your brain could no longer handle those remembrances. Yet, I continue to think of your legacy to us every day, and try every day to bring a bit of you out of me.
Love you, Mom, always.
Miss you every day, still. Don't cry about it too much anymore, but do more laughing. Think about all the fun times we had growing up and then as adults with you. So glad our kids knew you when you were full of fun and fearless, before your brain began to recede from all around you.
I posted a picture of you with Miah on his bike...you were still in your fearless mode, sporting your shamrock tattoo, your red crocs and a big ass smile. That smile is one I hold in my heart always.
Went on a trip a few weeks ago with the girls - these girls that I grew up with, and now am getting old with. We talked about our mothers, and how much they meant to us. I learned how all of our experiences with our mothers shape us into mothers and into people who at some point teach our children to parent, whether they have kids or not. These mothers of my friends, they were so much more than I ever thought they were. I hope that the next generation thinks that about us.
I do remember thinking, back in the day, that you were one of the cool moms, even if we did get slapped around sometimes (hey - I know I deserved it!). You played in the street with all of us, you spoke to everyone at the stores, you were buddies with Greg, too, at a time when people didn't understand adults who still thought like children. You went on all the rides with us, teaching us to laugh on those scary ones, and put our hands up in the air at the highest point of the roller coaster.
I know you drank, but I don't ever remember you being drunk, or doing anything foolish at parties, especially at our house. You laughed all the time, and sang a lot too. It was my pleasure to be in all those shows with you, and sing with you as well. You taught me to have no fear on a stage, or when talking with people I didn't know, to strut my stuff as needed, keep it low key when not needed.
You must have known we stole your cigarettes, drank your beer and watered down your liquor, grew pot plants in our rooms, and did other things, too, in our rooms! You never gave us that hard of a time over the growing parts of teenhood, even though I'm sure you were not happy about some of what we did. Nancy probably paid the higher price for those actions - she was always the one most like you.
Fleeting scenes of you in action often flit across my brain, like an old movie in black and white. There isn't sound, but there is lots of action. I imagine you seeing our daily lives now, and being proud of us as parents who are doing the best we can do, as people who laugh at life and work hard, too.
As I drove to the Post Office today, where the Hallmark store is (ok, the "Paper Store"), I saw so many people going in to buy cards and Mother's Day gifts. I got a bit sentimental, knowing I don't need to buy a card for you, knowing the last Mother's Day you were with us wasn't special as your brain could no longer handle those remembrances. Yet, I continue to think of your legacy to us every day, and try every day to bring a bit of you out of me.
Love you, Mom, always.
Comments
Post a Comment