Every once in a while, I still think to myself, “Hey, I should call mom; she always wants someone to call her.”
I remember she felt lonely a lot. She used to tell me she had “empty nest syndrome” (I’m still not convinced this is a thing). She wanted me to call her every day if I could, but she accepted my intention to “do my best to call every 2-3 days”. Even if we talked for 10 minutes, she was grateful. And if I said “I have to go so-and-so”, signing off real quick, she was completely understanding. I should have talked longer.
I miss her voice. I miss her “Ok, darling, thanks for calling”s. I hope I remember her voice forever. I wonder if there comes a time when you can’t really recall on your own and you have to go back to your collection of videos.
I have a million videos on Facebook (that’s my default dumping ground for ALL photos and videos- I set most to private, but I’m sure it’s not the most “private” option out there, so I need to make it a point to switch over). If I scroll down far enough, I get to the ones of mom. Reading T a book with him on her lap, following him around in the garage area at church, together at the doctor’s office, playing guitar on the stairwell, staring awkwardly and smiling into the camera when I zoomed in on her. She was a smiler. Though the smiles finally started to fade as she got weaker.
I want to hold her hand again. I want to lean on her and feel her arm around me again.
I can’t think of a conclusion to this. There doesn’t seem to be any resolution or lesson learned or grand finale to this train of thought. Just ongoing feelings. (Why am I such an emotional being?!) That’s the funny thing about writing. It usually comes in neat, organized parts that fit in nice, little packages and feel complete and resolved and settled. Life is nothing like that (at least not my life ha!).
And with that, I will simply end awkwardly and abruptly.