December 2012

December.
December has begun.
I've been reluctantly anticipating this all year.
It was a year ago yesterday that Valerie, little Julian and I hurriedly left for Chicago.
Mom had taken a turn for the worse and within hours we were on a plane to be with her.
In 10 days it will be a year since she left us.
In 10 days it will be a year since she realized her life-long dream to see her Savior and enjoy the great party in Heaven.
I have worn black since November 12.
I have worn a piece of Mom's jewelry since November 12.
I have let myself cry all year, and it comes more frequently and more easily only lately - a curious thing to me.
December 13 will mark the end of a year of mourning.
December 13 will begin a new year.

While brownies bake...

It's a warm sunny day in Northridge but
it's raining down my face.
I'm missing Mom.
She's been in heaven 4 months.
No one but Gracie talks with me about her anymore.
It's all still really fresh for me.
I had never seen anyone die before and that's an image, an experience that doesn't fade easily. Especially since she was my mom. This fresh grief snuck up on me suddenly as I wait for the brownies to bake for Lydia's art show.
I want to tell Mom Larry and I are happy.
I want to tell her I'll begin teaching Latin in a brick and mortar school in Fall.
I want to tell her I had a wonderful visit with my brother and his wife for a few days this week.
I want to tell her how cute my grandson is and what good parents my son and daughter-in-law are.
I want to tell her Rachael and Andrew are back in CA.
I want to tell her that Lydia will graduate college in a month and that her art show is Monday and that she is doing so well.
I want to tell her about all the ideas Larry has for new businesses he will start.
I want to tell her that Dad is OK and that he misses her.
I want to tell her that I forgot how to crochet and I need her help.
I want to tell her that I made rysgrynsgrot.
I want to tell her that I miss her.
I want to tell her that I love her more now than ever.
I want to tell her that I'm trying to learn some of her secrets of contentment.
Mostly, I want to hear her voice.