Mother

November 20th is one heavy day to hold. And yet, I hold on. My mother died on this date twenty-seven years ago. She has now been dead longer than she was my very own living, breathing mother. She missed everything important in my life. Like her three grandkids. Never held a-one. The closest she got to it was the knowledge that I was pregnant with my son. She was excited about that, but missed his birth by about five months.

I know she didn't want to leave me. But she did and it feels like I was robbed of something vital to my existence. That becomes more obvious to me all the time. It changed me, and not necessarily for the better. I have done lots of work around this monumental loss. Therapy? Check.

Now I am a mother of two children in their twenties. Like I was when she died.The thought of leaving this life-and my kids-fills me with a fear that is beyond any nightmare you can imagine. Is that how she felt leaving me? I will never know because she never said so. Not her style to share such emotional things. That never posed a problem for yours truly. I share too much. A fatal flaw. One that I pay for on a daily basis. I want her here today, and needed to share that with the big and sometimes wicked universe.

Oh, and this song.