Easter 2012

It is Easter, and my mom would have been 64 today.

I was going to write a fun and funny, poignant and tear jerking post, but I find that I cannot.

As I have lived at least a thousand miles from Colorado for several years, and mom died last June, I find that I am still having a problem with trying to memorialize her as I wish. It still doesn’t seem real, even as I know it is – I hear my sister saying “ Oh Pam! Mom’s dead!” every time I go into, or out of the front door of the office I work at.  I was right there, just outside the front door, by a sweet smelling Wisteria bush in full bloom, expecting the same old trivial questions, and being rather…  put out about being called at work AGAIN,  until she said that.

Living a thousand miles away, it doesn’t quite have the same impact immediately. It is sneaky, and makes itself felt in a thousand different little knife cut ways.

I thought that Easter Sunday, combined with moms birthday would be the absolute best time for a memorial post, full of fun and funny stuff about mom and me, but I am learning as I start, and stop, and start again, that this is not what will happen.

I find myself alternating between huge melancholy, and almost anger. I know that other than that first day, I really haven’t done much to deal with the reality, the HUGE reality of this.

Yes, I did go back to Colorado for the “service”. Yes, we did spread ashes in the Colorado River like mom wanted. Still.

I find myself STILL almost a year later, thinking in the present tense when I think of mom.

“We are having rain. Mom will be calling to ask if we are floating away!” “um… not anymore.”.

I wonder how long it will actually BE before it stops hitting me like a freight train – and when I will get over the voice of my sister, echoing in my head, whenever I think something about mom, her foibles, her love. Not that I WANT her to be past tense… Not that I WANT her to be… not here.

And now, I cry. Because she was so young. She was only 63, and she is gone. My mother is gone, and I will never, ever be exasperated by a phone call making sure that I am ok when the actual (whatever is happening) is “somewhere in TX” again. My mother will never ask me if I am floating away in the floods again. She will never make me an Easter basket because she knows that I am alone, and lonely and sad again. She will never hug me, or tell me that she loves me, nor be there for me to tell HER the same, again.

And – of course, now the tears are real. This instant.

On this day, what would have been her 64thy birthday, I just want to see and hear my mom, and tell her how very much I love her, without qualifications. Just because.




3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Vicky
    Apr 08, 2012 @ 12:18:29



  2. Kittin
    Apr 16, 2012 @ 00:50:35

    *big hugs*


  3. Elunamakata
    May 11, 2012 @ 17:38:45

    ***super major huggle lovins***

    I’m so sorry for your loss.


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