My mother would have been 62 today. She made it to 49. It amazes me how much time has passed and how it feels both long ago and just yesterday.
I was talking to Sparky last week about our dead parents. What if they could come back for a day and catch up, what would we tell them?
I got my shit together, my credit score is closer 800 than not, I got married, I live in Germany, I’ve traveled through Europe, I have a kid, Cleo died too, honeymooned in Paris, vacationed in Tuscany with John, lived alone in Hamburg, lost weight.
She’s got other kids so I can’t spend too much time. Then there is my step-dad who after 13 ish years has moved to Atlanta and disconnected the phone number we had since I was 12. That was an odd feeling, calling our phone number and having it disconnected.
The house Mim grew up in and my mom died in is going to be sold. Before that it will be repainted and the colors my mom choose long ago will disappear.
The house being sold affects all of us kids differently. I haven’t spent time there in years, staying with my brother when I visit. Yet the ghosts have never moved on. I could walk in the house this minute and still hear our youthful screams in the hallways, smell the chlorine from summers spent in the pool or the Tilex my mom would use on our bathroom floors. I can hear my mom stomping on the floor of her room because we were being too loud as she was trying to fall asleep or the slamming of my door in the middle or rather end of a fight.
I lived only there for four years – almost 14 until my 18th birthday. Miranda, her whole life. Jeff and Dave somewhere in between. I wish I could get any one of them to write and tell me how they feel about the house being sold because in many ways I feel like I’m in mourning again.
Here are some words I have written about my mother in the past.
Happy Birthday, Mom. I miss you.