Monday, July 29, 2013

The Dates We Save

I can think of only one time in my adult life when I’ve wanted to physically assault another person. It was immediately before a bridesmaid function. The bride berated her doting mother for being too talkative with the vendor in charge of the rehearsal-dinner cake. She went on and on, getting louder and louder, and we were in tight quarters. The mother chucklingly blew the tantrum off. My mother’s 2-year death anniversary was a few weeks away. 

Her 9-year death anniversary came and went last week. I worked late, commuted home, and went to bed at a decent hour. There were no crying fits, there’s no longer a need for anyone to drive me around the Catskills for the day to help cool my jets. Major holidays, including Mother’s Day, also now feel the same as most days do. Earlier this year, I reflected on the anniversary of my late grandmother’s birthday. But I keep forgetting the date of her death. Even though I always remember it, my late mother’s birthday hasn’t affected me as deeply as her deathday used to. Official calendar dates are given more significance than they deserve.

I’ve read about someone who gradually recognized that her late mother comes to her in the form of hummingbirds. Mine often communicates with me via a different winged creature, although she’s never allowed herself to be limited to one mode. While one of my loves (who lost his mom as a teenager) and I recently sat and happily chatted by an outdoor fountain for many minutes, our mothers were there too. 

3 comments:

  1. Oh, Roving Retorter, this posting made me think of my own mother, who died when I was 24. I believe that was about your age when your mother died. My mother died of leukemia. At the time it was not known "why" she got leukemia. It is now known that there is a link between smoking cigarettes and leukemia, and, sadly, my mother was of the generation that smoked all day. A number of years later my father also died a smoking-related death of lung cancer. I miss them both every day. I recall that for months after my father's death, I had a dream that I went to a telephone booth and tried to phone him. I wish so much that they both had lived to see their beautiful granddaughter. Sometimes I, too, feel my mother's presence, often when I least expect it.

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  2. If I am not mistaken...your mom visited with you while you were in Paris...am I correct? They always have a way of making sure their presence is known to us in the most unusual places and in a very unique way.

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  3. I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had lost your mother. I lost mine a little over 2 years ago and my friends still get uncomfortable mentioning what they did on Mother's Day. You're so right. Calendar dates are overrated.

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