Two Years Ago Today
Today finds me tired and blah. Part of me could legitimately make a case for my re-entry into the workforce (for a very wonderful company, by the way….doing what I love and telecommuting 100% to boot!) as being the cause. Nothing like going from 0 to 120 to take a little something out of you!
But, if I am completely honest, I know it is because today is “The Day.” Today marks the two year anniversary of my mother’s death.
Somewhere, in the middle of the night, during rounds of REM sleep, something buzzed around in my subconscious psyche, heralding the day in hushed tones.
My husband says I have this uncanny “radar” for markers — both the marvelous and the macabre. I think maybe it’s a “woman thang,” in that we tend to be better with names and dates. Whatever the reason, I am unmotivated and, against type, very introspective and withdrawn.
I’ve ranted about watching my mother die, but today, I really mourn it in a profoundly different way. Witnessing the deterioration of one you love, and watching the life slowly drain away day after day takes a toll. At the time, all my attention was laser-focused on my mom. But now, with the passage of time, and less immediacy, I find that I am processing it. How many times over the last two years have I reached for the phone, only to remember that she’s no longer here? How many times have I thought of her during some of the interviews I’ve conducted with some of the very people she railed at on her television, knowing that though she disagreed with me philosophically, she’d still be impressed and proud!? Longing to call her after those interviews to see what she thought…and sad that she didn’t live to see it happen. The LA Times article mentioning me came out on Mother’s Day, and how I would have loved to have shown it to her, as we visited her for lunch, knowing full well she would blanch at having her daughter touted as an “Aspiring Rush Limbaugh,” but knowing equally as well that she would have carried the article around in her purse to show everyone she knew.
And, profoundly sad that this woman, who worked hard for 40 years of her life, never got to enjoy her retirement, or the opportunity to do any of the things she really wanted to do, like take classes, or spend more time with her beloved grandchildren.
Mother-daughter relationships are complex, and few could be classified as more complex than ours, however, in hindsight, though you wish some of the rough edges had been smoother, you tend to remember the good times. And, today, I do.