7 years today. it’s supposed to get better, but nuh-uh; she was my life.
“What can you say about a sixty-four year-old girl who died? That she was beautiful. And brilliant. That she loved her boys. Books and cats. And me.”
Even more of you remembered this year…
-you always had that big brass ”Love Story” coaster, but we never watched or even mentioned the book or movie.
-your rain checks for coupons or sales
-on hot days, continually putting ice cubes in the cats’water
-never put toilet paper roll on the roll bar(germophobic), nor folded up a paper bag (cockroachaphobic)
-as demure as a hurricane, when anyone criticized a Kennedy or a Clinton.
-acknowledged the biggest buyer in America of girl scout thin mint cookies
-making sure the very last-second piece of garbage was put out before trash pickup
-our lobster tail protocol we vowed to share equally, but you’d always swear you’d had enough and give more to me.
-your “i can’t take you anywhere” look, when i’d socially faux pas.
-putting the book fair money into “my strongbox”, a remnant of your family’s penchant for watching westerns.
-going to sleep, pressing the top of my foot against bottom of yours
-“I can do two things at once”
-washing the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher.
- your nightly bedclothes; oversized red glasses, and full length flannel pajamas
-“I’m a morning person”
-always sending cards or calling family, friends, colleagues on the anniversary of the date they lost a child.
-your return address ‘return a dress’ stickers
-eggs had to be very drippy and bacon very crispy, especially in your toast concoction.
-lausd wouldn’t allow pesticides so you killed bugs in the library by drowning them in squirted windex.
-sleeping, oh-so softly snoring, with the tv on and cats on your neck.
-after the far-fetched stories of fish caught in plastic 6-pack rings, you cut ‘em up.
-dialoging with the cats, and later our babies, back and forth, between your Phyllis voice and an unmistakable, very similar, barely higher pitched voice for their say
-the ”I can never have nice things” look when my gift underwhelmed you.
-after you read yet another Agatha Christie during hockey games in front of my friends, I was overjoyed to finally find the last two you hadn’t read…..only to tell me she wrote a ton of obscure books as Mary Westmacott which you then had to have.
-ending every phone call, “OK bye”.
-never a dull moment.
-how you kindled, coddled, encouraged, educated, embraced, and cherished the gifts of gab and friendliness in your boys (even if all three of you are a wee bit loud).
-how very happy you always were to see the kids or your family or your friends, and how very happy they always were to see you
There are stars that shine on earth, even after they’ve disintegrated. as there are individuals whose memory lights the world after they’ve left it. These lights illuminate the path for us.
