When you first lose your mom you think you will never get through it.
It is impossible to imagine a life without her.
Then, months later, you go a whole day without thinking about her
and cry because you didn't think about her.
Then, months after that, you go a whole day without thinking about her
and its ok. Almost.
Then you have your first child and think you will never get through it.
It's impossible to imagine being a mother without your own mother to help.
Especially the mother of a daughter.
Then you get too busy in the everyday to dwell on it much.
But it still hurts when there are things you want to share with her and can't.
Like her first smile, or when she first notices a robin, or the first time she said
"who is grandma teetee?"
Then you watch your friends with their mothers
mothers who are healthy and alive and there
grandma's who spoil and babysit and listen to all that stuff that nobody really cares about
and you get really sad.
Cause it's just not fair.
Then you realize this is the way it is.
And you get on with it.
Then you wake up and it is her birthday
and you miss her all over again.
You wish she were here. My, how life would be different if she were here.
On her birthday you would
make opera cremes and watch The Way We Were and swoon over Robert Redford.
And talk books.
Over wine of course.
Then we would be tipsy and think Chef Boyardee pizza sounded good.
So we would make some.
And plan for the future. Her next visit. What books Ellie might want next. When Ellie can come to Indiana.
You know, mother/daughter stuff.
Unimportant things. Until they are gone. Then, so very very missed.
September 16. A happy day.
Happy Birthday Mama.
I love you.