We made sure to throw a big birthday bash for her 84th at our house. We had everyone there, big balloon decorations, lots of food--it was great. Mom sat in her wheelchair, looking diminutive, weary, and slightly confused. We were so glad we were able to bring it all together for her last birthday. She lived for another 3 weeks.
Mom was an only child, arriving a little later in her parents' lives than some. She survived a hovering mother that loved to re-live her childhood vicariously through mom. "She went to everything," mom would say, "every practice, every birthday party, everything." It was plain that she grew to hate it as she got older. When she met dad, he had a "bad boy" charm. He had come into to the world unwanted by his parents (too busy nightclubbing), so was raised by his grandparents instead. Like many boys, he was no stranger to harsh punishment when he challenged his grandfather's authority. When he had finally come to our area to live with his real parents, he was a brooding loner, full of teen angst and resentment. Much to the dismay of mom's parents, the two grew close, leaning on each other as another only child could.
I never felt real grief when she passed. More like relief. She had been going through a lot in recent times, and it was good she never had to worry about pain or comfort again. No, I've been feeling something else. I can't quite put a finger on. It may have to do with me being the oldest of the five siblings--a kind of "buck stops here" sort of feeling. I feel like I'm watching all the cars of a train pass, then suddenly realizing the last car just went by. I hurry to catch up, finally settling in at the end of the line. I'm suddenly aware that there is no one behind me, and no longer any reason to look back. I'm at the back.
Mom was the glue of the family. She could make dad's income cover all our bases. She kept us fed, she made us clothes, and never missed a horrible school concert we kids performed in. In later years, she worked to keep busy, landing a job across the street at the Auburn High School in their cafeteria. Years later, when dad stopped working she was able to continue, working her way up within the school district cafeteria system until her retirement.
Mom had a huge heart. She was able to take dad back during a time in the 80's when he went philandering, seduced by a female that told him what he wanted to hear. Fortunately, for mom, it didn't last long. Fortunately for dad, mom let him come home. That was mom.
Yeah, I'm somewhat disconcerted. Of course I miss her, but I also have a feeling a something else being missing. Some sort of connection or placeholder--I dunno. Our odd little iceberg of a family (no aunts, uncles) used to be connected at the top of the family tree, by mom and dad. Then it was just mom, but the configuration still held. The family unit as we knew it was still intact. Now, with mom gone the whole structure feels as if it's in shambles. There is no family tree, just a few apples on the ground.
Now we siblings face the fact that mom and dad were married very young, and we were all born pretty close to each other--all five of us within a range of 7 years in age. Mortality is no longer too distant to worry about.
R.I.P. mom... I love you.
