Let's back up.
She fell in her kitchen mid-March. A common household accident, only you're 90 and you break not only your hip but your femur as well. You get put into surgery within hours and then carted to one of those rehab centers where old folks go to die. Why my mother? Why now? If she were only here we could talk it over. And here's what I'd say ...
Why did you have to leave now, Mom? You, the one who walked your dog 2 miles a day, the one who kept youth in a bottle forever it seemed, the one who kept everyone hopeful about life and longevity. You were going to outlive the rest of us. I mean, you knew how lousy some of us are at goodbyes. Thought I was spared. Thought I told you so many times how important you were to the rest of us and that included those fun cats and that sweet dog.
And, seriously, I thought I could keep them in the family, or close by. So, I hired a petsitter for the kitties and got your friends to take the dog whilst you were in rehab and prayed that you could come home soon, home to a new house we planned to rent, so's we could get to know each other all over again. So, we could reunite the pets and gradually introduce them to my two, forging a new path, mother and daughter after so many years, again under one roof. I imagined late night card games, plenty of Dr. House TV, visits to the casino, eating out, you teaching me (finally) how to cook like that. You helping me with my manuscripts, wisecracking, making candles at Christmas, and gluing shell pictures in tiny frames.
The Bible says God works things for good though satan means it all for evil. And I believe this, have basked in the goodness of God from seeming ashes. But, why is it when you're down, it seems like someone somewhere randomly pushes you down further? Why is it when you need help and rest the most, it becomes elusive?
You would know this best. Many times life threw odd punches your way. There was that time when I was four that we returned from Atlantic City to find our cats gone from our apartment. The super's wife had a key. She had them put to sleep because she didn't like cats. And I remember us marching her to the police station and filing a complaint. I still miss those cats. How cruel.
Then, there was the divorce, yours and then years later, mine. Those things never fare well. You can lose more than a spouse, a friend. Bad enough. You can lose your mind. Maybe even your soul, for a while. And less important until now, your homestead, there not just for you but for times like these. To help others. To provide.
Well, Mom, you'll be happy to know that nothing's changed. And that cruel still prevails when we least expect it. Well meaning people can turn on you, just like you always said, on a dime.
I miss you, Mom. And now I'm going to miss the lot of them who shared their lives with you. If I still had my big house, they'd for sure be with me indefinitely. The dog running in the yard, the kitties occupying the arm of a chair, the edge of a bed, their special basket you bought them. And so would your furnishings you left me, and all things that were distinctly you. I miss you and I miss Brian more and more as each moment passes, as each day unfolds and you're absent from my wall of voice-mails.
I know things will work out somehow but just needed to talk to someone who understands. And just wanted you to know that I'm doing my best to make sure those four footed friends of yours have a loving roof over them. Just sorry it can't be my roof. Or yours. Or ours.
