Right away, this month challenges me. Today is the 46th anniversary of my mother's death. I know that sounds like a lifetime, but I can remember back to when I was 24--I am now 70--and when it happened.
Two things I remember most. First, I was just getting out of bed--it was around 8AM, when the phone rang. I just knew this was it. My father confirmed that a few minutes later, but what sticks in my head the most was that the radio was playing a song I never like from the start, but hereon in would hate forever--"Honey," by Bobby Goldsboro.
The second was going to the hospital to collect things. My father stopped at the nurse's station, while I went on to her room. The body had not yet been removed, so there I was, and there she was, as I looked death in the face. It was not pretty, and I recall both these moments to this day.
I still wonder what would have happened had my mother lived longer. Would I have continued in Highland Park, or would I have moved to New York? How would my mother have dealt with it; my father did pretty well, but I am not so sure about her.
My father would have had an altogether different retirement from what he had in Florda, because my mother was never going to go there. And I was with her on that. But her passing allowed him to go to Florida, making for a peaceful transition into old age.
The image I hold most dear is me in our television room, reading, when my mother's car pulls up in front of the house, and, atop a love seat by the right front windows, our poodle, Baby Mouse, alerted us excitedly to my mother having arrived home.
How I miss Mother, Daddy, Nana and Baby Mouse. And so many others. May God have mercy on my tormented soul and unite me with them all when my time comes.
I think I have said enough, girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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