One minute I’m innocently enjoying my healthy and happy 60-year old life, and the next, I’m buried under Husband’s bleak harbinger.
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“Well, if that don’t beat all—ain’t that a mess? …”
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My mother has been gone more than four years now, and it turns out the joke is on me.
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… it seems I owe my mother yet another apology…
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Let me set the scene…
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I can’t go. There’s nothing in there...
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I went into focused disaster mode… I’d been there before when my husband progressed slowly to his death…
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I remember Mom admonishing, “Don’t ever let your husband keep you in stretch pants.”
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A simple enough question, with an ever changing answer - how important is it?
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She answered on the first ring; always a sign that something’s amiss.
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Uncle Lennie (the “Legend” as we called him) owned a club…
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…her days were pretty dull and it was clearly time to air her out.
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Life is full of funny moments - some more memorable than others…
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When my 60-year-old inner dialogue turns to negative chit chat about aging, I can short circuit it by taking 50 steps to Mom’s apartment to remind myself just what “old” really is.
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Not all over-the-fence conversations are created equal.
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I was cracking and I knew I was about to full on Humpty Dumpty and if I did, none of the king’s horse and none of the king’s men could put me together again.
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Each anniversary holds the promise of a new beginning with endless possibility, not all of it so good.
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“GUILTY!” they screamed… Not actual people, but the voices inside my head (thankfully, not actual voices either).
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