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Remembering….

June 23, 2009

My Mom died 5 months after Norah. I did not grieve as I should have. My heart, mind, and body were deep in grief for Norah. I was still trying to get to the surface through my own pain and sadness. I was growing a new life, the new little one. I remember her. I cried but I did not go deep into my feelings and try to explore them, understand them, dwell in them. I was still and am still processing Norah’s death. Even now, when I think of Mom, I smile. My heart does not sink but soars. I love her; she was a free soul who taught me a lot about taking chances, dreaming, and living. As the youngest of 11 children, I learned from the entire family. Those early years shaped who I am today and I am grateful to my family for the learnings. I always thought I would be taking care of her in her old age. She was only 69 and still got about the house. She had back problems. We had talked and I knew she was going to live with me when she could no longer care for herself. This was a fact and it did not faze me. My Mom took care of me so I was going to take care of her. Instead, I didn’t get the chance. I mourn that lost time. The time that I was supposed to have with my Mom.

Even still, I do not grieve. She lived her life. She was content with who she was and what she had done with her life. But…Norah, did not even get to start. I looked forward to learning her soul, learning her attitudes. But, I didn’t get the chance.  Maybe I am delusional in thinking that I will not get to the point of grieving for my mother. I have grieved a long time for Norah and probed deeply into my own soul. I do not think that I can peel any more layers back. Instead, I remember my mom. I’m happy, joyful, and filled with love for her. She played a very important role in my life and I wish she was still her to continue her presence in my life on this earth. I hear her voice, her laughter, and her comments in my head. I remember with a smile.

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One comment

  1. I look at life and death so differently now. Shortly after B’s death, I remember feeling intense anger toward old men…wondering why my son didn’t get to grow old.



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