Microblog Mondays - Dear Mom Year 3

Dear Mom,

Tomorrow will be three years
since I picked up the phone
to Dad's voice
saying only
"Honey, she's gone."

I had seen you
two days earlier.
I can still feel
your hand in mine.

You were beyond speech but
when you squeezed my hand
I knew that you knew
I was there.

I promised to take care of dad.
And I have, as much as he will let me.

I told you it was okay for you to go.
It was.
You were in so much pain.
You weren't you anymore.
Dad said, "If there was anything to pull we would have pulled it."
Not for him,
For you,
Because you hated being that way.

I told you you had been a great mom.
I forgave all the teenage crap.
I forgave the adult crap.
I forgave.

I said that I would be okay.
I lied.

I need you.
I never planned on motherhood
without my mother to guide me.

I miss you.
The good and the bad.
I never knew I'd watch Gilmore Girls
To remember how much of a pain you could be.

I know I am not the only one suffering.
Dad still reaches for you in the morning.
Aunt V, your older sister, often time travels in her head
to when you were alive.
My sister and brother live with their regrets.

I have few with regard to you.
I am proud of how I was able to care for you
like you cared for me.

I only wish I could have done so longer.

Microblog Monday--Happy Anniversary Mom

Dear Mom,

I have my first byline.  My first paid byline, mom!  It's in the online magazine Kveller. I think it is right--the name. That's what you would have been doing--you'd be kvelling.

Dad had his birthday and then, six days later was your anniversary.

It's a hard day.

For sixty-four years June nineteenth was a celebration of love. The kind of love that you had. The yell at each other, make up, hold hands for a while kind of love. The sleep in a chair by your love's hospital bed kind of love. That's what we celebrated every June Nineteenth. That's what my sister celebrated when she chose it as her wedding day.

Now, now it's a day where we try to act like we don't remember how you would do stuff. We made no mention of the fact that it was your anniversary when we celebrated father's day, and my sister's anniversary. No mention at all.

I didn't handle that part so well. Even though dad was with his new girlfriend, I had to talk about you. I had to remember you. We talked about you and baseball. How a client took you to the famous Don Larson Perfect Game. You came home sad and down because "No one hit anything. No one got a run. " We laughed. We missed you. I needed to remember.

I need to remember that your blood is still in my veins. Your heart still beats with my heart.  I am here. I am here and since I am, you are still here.

When I am gone. When I am where you are, my blood does not flow through Lotus' veins.  But my heart will still beat. I have given her my heart and yours too.

I miss you mom. Happy what would have been your 67th anniversary.