I haven’t had much time
lately to sit down, relax, think, and create.
Writing seems a luxury of times past, as all of the minutes of every day
lately feel taken up with care taking, errands, laughing with my sisters,
doctor appointments, and the like. Not
that I begrudge any of that – I am exactly where I need to be right now doing
what I am supposed to (and want) to do.
But I cannot let a MARY
DAY pass by without putting my thoughts on “paper”.
For the uninitiated, Mary
Day is October 20th. It is
the anniversary of my mom's (Mary) death – October 20, 2002. I can’t believe it has been 16 years
already. 16 years seems short and at the
same time very, very long.
When someone important in
your life dies, things inevitably change.
All of the “big events” that happen remind you of the hole they left
behind. Births of what would have been great-grandchildren… Holidays…
Weddings… And now, illness. With each event you are reminded that they
are not here to witness it, to guide you, to celebrate or to cry. And that hurts.
Today I was thinking about
how my mom used to come to soooo many of the shows I was in. She saw each and every single play I ever
took part in, but she didn’t see them ONCE.
No, she sat in the audience repeatedly for every show I was cast in,
even the clunkers. I remember hearing
her in the audience sometimes on days that I didn’t know she would be there –
hearing her slight cough. Once, I am
embarrassed now to admit, I heard her cough and I silently wished she wouldn’t
come to see me perform so often… How I regret
that wish now. I would give anything to
see her seated in a dark theatre today.
I know she would LOVE to watch David perform. She had a great laugh and it would mean so
much to mean if I could hear it again, laughing at the samurai or the monkey in
one of David’s shows.
Of course, my sister’s
illness makes me think of mom often. When
Annette first got diagnosed one of the people I reached out to was the doctor
who treated Mom, to ask his opinion on what we should do. The surgery, the treatments, it all brings
back memories. But mostly it makes me wish
Mom was here to hold our hands and to offer support during this confusing,
scary, difficult time.
I find myself thinking “What
would Mom do?” or “What would Mom think?” often. There are some things I know for
certain:
-
She would hate
that the house isn’t spotless
-
She would be
happy to hear her 3 daughters together talking and laughing
-
She would be
worried about Annette being sick, but very proud that she is focused on sticking
around for a long time and doing all she can to make that happen
-
She would be
disappointed that my dad’s sweaters now get dried in the dryer instead of laid
flat after being washed
-
She would buy her
great-grandkids gifts all the time, even when it wasn’t a holiday
-
She would be
devastated about the discord in the family
-
She would wish I wore
lipstick more often
-
She would see David’s
shows, no matter where he was performing
So here it is, my annual
reminder to YOU:
CALL YOUR MOTHER. Send her a card. Write her a letter (a real one, not an
email). Take her to lunch. Take a photo (or 2) of her - there will come a time when you long to see images of her and there are not enough and your heart aches because of that. Send her flowers.
Because there will come a
time when she is not here anymore, and you will wish she was. So, if you are fortunate enough to still have
your mom, take some time today to tell her you love her.
Happy Mary Day. I love you Mom.
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| Dad, Mom, David, and me - Spring 1999 outside the White House when they were visiting DC |
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