It's been eleven years since Mom passed away. I turned 40 the year Mom was diagnosed with the brain cancer that would kill her nine months later; I turned 51 last August, and despite the passage of more than a decade, there are still moments when Mom's death seems to have happened only yesterday. Looking back at old photos of Mom, both healthy and sick, can trigger the tears. Otherwise, enough time has passed that I'm mostly back to living my life.
Mom died a mid-winter death, and that's changed the meaning of this season for me. But these days, it's less about the sadness and more about the contemplation. It's not quite right to say that life moves in cycles, as if nature were constantly repeating itself exactly as it had been before. It's more correct to think of life moving like waves lapping the shore—successive beats that bear certain similarities, yet are distinctly different from each other. Mom had her time on the shore, and now she's receded. I'm having my time now, but one day, I too will recede, and that's right and good. For now, it's enough to focus on trying to be a worthy son.
Goodbye, Mom—eleven years gone. I love you.
1 comment:
A very moving tribute.
Regarding your point that "enough time has passed that I'm mostly back to living my life," I would just add that, sometimes, remembrance of the past is just as important as looking to the future. Treasure those memories of your mom and think of them often.
I'll leave you with one of my favorite quotes that speaks to the wave-like nature of reality you just mentioned but also acknowledges the traces of the past that shape the shoreline.
"To look life in the face. Always to look life in the face and to know it for what it is. At last to know it. To love it for what it is, and then, to put it away. Always the years between us. Always the years. Always the love. Always the hours.”
- Michael Cunningham, The Hours
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