Embraceabl
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Dec 7, 2004
- Messages
- 243
- Points
- 0
Today marks one year since my Mom passed away. I find myself wondering if and when there will come a time when I think about her without crying, without the feelings of sadness and loss literally choking me. Even as I type I’m unable to swallow, to take a deep breath, there’s just this overwhelming swamping of emotion that threatens to consume me.
Mom was an amazing woman who truly knew how to enjoy life. She embraced the good things that came her way with enthusiasm and dealt with the bumps in the road (and there were many) with grace, dignity and humor. She instilled in me a strong work ethic and followed that up with an equally strong sense of play. She taught me the true meaning of that which doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger. She stayed strong, almost to the bitter end.
Today, one year ago, her battle with cancer ended. She was diagnosed with breast cancer. In spite of a mastectomy and the treatments that followed, her cancer metastasized and moved to her liver. It turns out that she knew that she was sick again, that something was wrong, but she kept it to herself and worked hard to hide it from the family. By the time I learned she was sick and went to be with her, she was beyond any kind of help. I had a month with her before she died.
It was because of Mom that I became an avid reader. It didn’t matter where we were going or what were doing she always said ‘bring a book.’ If we went anywhere at all that we had to wait, out came the books and the waiting no longer mattered. It was also through Mom that I learned about and developed my own passion for erotic literature. Mom kept her collection of erotic literature on her bookshelf, not in a box hidden away under the bed or in the dark recesses of a closet. I discovered them in my late teens. My love of the written word remains a constant. There were times spent in the hospital where she would drift in and out of a semi-conscience state. She knew that as she drifted I was writing and encouraged me to finish, no matter what. I wish I had finished “Games” before she passed. I would have loved her thoughts on it.
Mom and I used to enjoy sitting along St Charles Ave, back home in New Orleans. There was nothing better then those afternoons with her, just talking and watching the joggers go by. I developed a great, uhm, admiration for men with a nice bum and a great pair of legs. We used to say things like; on your left or second one down on your right as we pointed out our favorites to each other. Sometimes the joggers even caught us looking and that was funny also. God, I miss all the fun, crazy and even the mundane things that we used to do together.
Mom taught me that housework had its place but that place was usually in someone else’s home. Our home was clean but it wasn’t company perfect. I learned that it wasn’t the smudge on the glass, the dust on the side of the TV or the dust bunnies that live under the sofa that your friends will remember. It’s the warmth of your home, the good times, and the conversation and shared meals that they remember. It’s all about the laughter and the love that is given and received by one and all. These days, the dust bunnies have found their home under my sofa but refuse to pay rent. In spite of those free loaders, my home is always filled with family and good friends, laughter, loud conversation and something is always cooking in the kitchen. And yes, if you look hard enough, you’ll find the smudges and the dust.
There are so many memories filling my head, wanting to be spoken and shared. I think that this weekend, I will gather friends and family; cook some of Mom’s favorite foods, sip on her favorite cocktails and share with them more about Mom, her unconditional love and her crazy antics throughout her life. I’ve been told that it helps to look back, reflect on the good and remember and celebrate those memories. I look forward to thinking about her with more smiles and fewer tears. In loving memory Mom. . . I miss you more than words can ever express.
Mom was an amazing woman who truly knew how to enjoy life. She embraced the good things that came her way with enthusiasm and dealt with the bumps in the road (and there were many) with grace, dignity and humor. She instilled in me a strong work ethic and followed that up with an equally strong sense of play. She taught me the true meaning of that which doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger. She stayed strong, almost to the bitter end.
Today, one year ago, her battle with cancer ended. She was diagnosed with breast cancer. In spite of a mastectomy and the treatments that followed, her cancer metastasized and moved to her liver. It turns out that she knew that she was sick again, that something was wrong, but she kept it to herself and worked hard to hide it from the family. By the time I learned she was sick and went to be with her, she was beyond any kind of help. I had a month with her before she died.
It was because of Mom that I became an avid reader. It didn’t matter where we were going or what were doing she always said ‘bring a book.’ If we went anywhere at all that we had to wait, out came the books and the waiting no longer mattered. It was also through Mom that I learned about and developed my own passion for erotic literature. Mom kept her collection of erotic literature on her bookshelf, not in a box hidden away under the bed or in the dark recesses of a closet. I discovered them in my late teens. My love of the written word remains a constant. There were times spent in the hospital where she would drift in and out of a semi-conscience state. She knew that as she drifted I was writing and encouraged me to finish, no matter what. I wish I had finished “Games” before she passed. I would have loved her thoughts on it.
Mom and I used to enjoy sitting along St Charles Ave, back home in New Orleans. There was nothing better then those afternoons with her, just talking and watching the joggers go by. I developed a great, uhm, admiration for men with a nice bum and a great pair of legs. We used to say things like; on your left or second one down on your right as we pointed out our favorites to each other. Sometimes the joggers even caught us looking and that was funny also. God, I miss all the fun, crazy and even the mundane things that we used to do together.
Mom taught me that housework had its place but that place was usually in someone else’s home. Our home was clean but it wasn’t company perfect. I learned that it wasn’t the smudge on the glass, the dust on the side of the TV or the dust bunnies that live under the sofa that your friends will remember. It’s the warmth of your home, the good times, and the conversation and shared meals that they remember. It’s all about the laughter and the love that is given and received by one and all. These days, the dust bunnies have found their home under my sofa but refuse to pay rent. In spite of those free loaders, my home is always filled with family and good friends, laughter, loud conversation and something is always cooking in the kitchen. And yes, if you look hard enough, you’ll find the smudges and the dust.
There are so many memories filling my head, wanting to be spoken and shared. I think that this weekend, I will gather friends and family; cook some of Mom’s favorite foods, sip on her favorite cocktails and share with them more about Mom, her unconditional love and her crazy antics throughout her life. I’ve been told that it helps to look back, reflect on the good and remember and celebrate those memories. I look forward to thinking about her with more smiles and fewer tears. In loving memory Mom. . . I miss you more than words can ever express.
