You still have to pick up your drycleaning

My sister called early this morning to tell me they found my mother. They think she died Thursday.

So it is upon us. And so far...I actually feel ok. I don’t see some big debilitating breakdown in my future. I already had that when our relationship first broke twelve years ago - and have been having mini-episodes of it ever since, up until the first news a month ago that she may be in her last stages. There is relief there - not that I’m happy this happened; it’s a tragedy all around - but knowing that “it” is over; her story ends here. I don’t have to do anything anymore. The door is closed. There is freedom in that.

Whenever I think I need a good cry the thought comes to me, “I’ve cried enough tears for her.” I don’t think I’ve cried more over another person in my life. I’ve been grieving the loss of her for years - decades, even. How is this any different?

She lives on in us, anyway - I have her voice, her humor, her mannerisms, her artistic sensibilities. If ever there were a more powerful argument for having children, this is it - she definitely has attained some semblance of immortality through us: me, my sister, and the boys, who unknowingly carry her legacy. They will know her full story and all it’s ugliness some day...but not yet.

A couple of years ago randomly in the car Bobby asked how old my mother was, and I told him, and he said, “I guess she’ll probably die soon.” I said yes. He asked if I would be sad, and I said yes. I don’t want them to know about this - Bobby will definitely go to, “but that means you’re going to die!” and I don’t want him worrying about that. I intend to live a good long while. My mother died at 76; her mother died at 77. I hope to outlive both of them by a good stretch. 

In the end...life must go on. These boys have their whole lives in front of them and I do not have the luxury of checking out either mentally or physically. My sister and I had a joke about our former religion - with all its carrying on about material life being an illusion and only God and Spirit being real...my answer is, “yeah...that’s great and all, but you still have to pick up your dry cleaning.” Nothing absolves us of the every day tasks of being a human, illusion or no - cooking, wiping counters, laundry, putting gas in the car, picking up groceries, going to the bank, filing taxes. I can be sad and wish things were different all I want, I can moon over sad Morrissey songs, I can wonder “what if?”...but I still have to pick up my dry cleaning.