Trimming the living room Christmas tree on Black Friday made me sentimental as I hung up ornaments that had been collected over my lifetime, lovingly by my mother, each year a new ornament. Usually ornaments were customized with names and years, but some came as a theme, and simply have the year written on the bottom. It's a tradition my sister and I continued after our mom passed--each year we buy each other an ornament. This year we happened to buy each other the same one. Now the tradition has spread to Include my niece and a close friend or two. Each one has a story--it's magical.and it was because of my mom. I miss that part of the holidays... and I desperate want to know why 1990 was baby's third Christmas on the ornament when it was actually my 4th...
Sentimental hit hard today. I've been in a mood to purge stuff we no longer use, condense storage of items, and make room for the newest Christmas tree. In a box labeled TTU t-shirts (shirts I've saved for Tshirt quilts) I found my old planner. I can't toss them...I keep them, as sort of a record. I'm horrible with a diary or journal or blog, but the planner records time. The one I found today was black and white. And happened to be for the year of 2009, when my mom passed. It starts off chronicaling my flight back to Lubbock in January after I had my first surgery for my endometriosis ( my fourth surgery is on Tuesday), meeting Michael, dating him, each monthiversary is carefully marked. There are class information, reminding me of the days leading up to graduation, work scheduling information for the first church I worked at and for my last day at the CDRC. I can even tell you the exact date that Annie moved in with me (May 17th) not because I wrote it down, but because I wrote the work schedule for the job that I held for one day. I can also tell you the last day I saw my mom (July 5th) because of what I was doing, not because I wrote it down that way. I can recall graduation, starting my first big girl job at Roscoe Wilson, and throwing a party to remember my mom. All because of small snippets of my life I wrote on the pages of a calendar. While the pages hold facts, they recall the memories.
I am also missing my mom because I flat out don't feel good. Sure, we fought a lot, but she was always guaranteed to answer my late night phone calls when I couldn't sleep, when I didn't feel good, or just because. I desperately miss that. Talking to her I miss the sweaty hugs and kisses too (she was always sweaty... I think it was the medication). I miss her selflessness. I miss her laugh. I miss her raspy voice, deep from too many cigarettes. I miss the way she used to cut her own hair and wear old too big clothes so she could constantly give my sister and I what we
It's been five and a half years since she passed and sometimes it feels like it was yesterday. And then some days it feels like forever. Forever... Especially when I think about what she missed on getting to be apart of with us here (I know she is always with me)... Graduations, weddings, jobs, and babies have all happened without her. And sometimes it's so hard to understand how time continues to march forward when someone you love dearly is gone. And the other times, I completely get it.
I've cried for her tonight, while writing this. When she first passed, the tears were frequent, daily. And as timed passed they've become much less frequent, happening only on nights like tonight, when I am tired and sentimental and hormonal. Don't be sad for me, because it's more often that not now how I smile in her memory. Mostly I think about how she would have spoiled my niece and how dad would've been broke. And how she would be proud of me and my sister for he work we do each day. And how she'd reassure me that three Christmas trees isn't ridiculously.
And how she'd be really ticked off that my dad has RJ...
Love you mama.