Mother's Day

I can't say it was the best Mother's Day, but, it was a good one. I'm missing my mom a lot this month, but I also have a lot to be thankful for. Last year we had a really good day. My parents, Jim's parents, we enjoyed a nice dinner and good laughs. It would be the last time I'd see my mom alive. I'm so thankful for that day, and I know she was, too.

Today I got to see my grandma, Lou Lou. She lost her daughter last year, a loss I can't fathom even though it was my mom. But she was with her son and three of her five grand kids today. I hope she had a good day.

Today I was with my mom's cousin, a woman that lost her best friend last year. We have developed a friendship that I am so thankful for. Someone that I can share things with, laugh with, and drink wine with. I hope she had a good day.

And we had BBQ today. With hushpuppies involved, it HAS to be a good day!

Happy Mother's Day, mom. I miss you.

Bikers need Jesus, too.

U +GOD= :)

My Capricorn

It was April 2010 and something made me look twice at the email from the handsome man with the kind blue eyes. His dating profile indicated a few criteria that didn't quite match with my "ideal" mate, but hey, I was 32 and divorced. Not really a time to be choosy. And, he was a Capricorn. So I let slide a few of my must-haves and decided to email him back. Since I'm a Virgo, I already knew what the horoscope websites said about good astrological matches for me. Other Virgos, Tauruses, and Capricorns, with Capricorns topping the list. So what if he was the same height as me and a Yankee. I'll just put away my heels and feed the man some fried chicken and collards, because he's a Capricorn!

Well, you know the rest of the story. What you may not know is that my mom was also a Capricorn. She and Jim got along famously. They were like two peas in a pod, sometimes annoying little peas, but always with the best of intentions. God knew what he was doing when He put Jim in my life. He knew what would happen a short two years after meeting each other. And thankfully He made me reply to the blue-eyed Capricorn. While Jim could never take the place of my mom, he has filled many voids that were left when she passed. He supports me beyond measure. He knows how to cheer me up. And he would do anything for me.

Happy Birthday, baby. I'm so happy you're my husband.

Post Script: As it turns out, he doesn't mind when I wear heels and he drinks more sweet tea than should be legal south of the Mason-Dixon.

A few of her favorite things

I posted a few weeks ago about going through my mom's gmail account and deleting emails. I did it again today and logged into her Pinterest account to change the email preferences. By logging in as her, it brought me to her profile page where she had written a short description of things she likes.

"I am a lover of beautiful things-outdoors and flowers with garden art bring a smile to my face. I teach piano lessons to anyone that enjoys music. Antiques, silver, and old linens make me smile."

And that made me smile.

It's almost over

It's my mom's birthday. We always went shopping after Christmas and last year we went on her birthday. We found my wedding dress that day. It was a good day. We spent it together.

My family and I received a lot of cards this Christmas. Lots of "I'm thinking about you" and "I know this Christmas will be hard". Well all I've been thinking about is her. And yeah, it was hard.

Luckily this year of "firsts" is almost over.

Because I like to punish myself

I occasionally check my mom's Gmail. I don't know why I haven't deactivated the account, but I haven't. Somehow, the thought of deactivating it will erase "her". The messages she would have seen about music, and roses, IKEA, and the 'Canes. The emails she exchanged with me, my brother, and her friends.

Over the past few months, when I'm feeling particularly strong, I go in and look at a few of the emails from before and also try to clean up her inbox. It's a slow Friday at work so I decided to do it today. 253 unread emails in her inbox. Then I clicked on the chat function.

I'm not sure why it hasn't occurred to me before to click on it. I guess because I don't save all my chats. But she did. I already knew what we talked about the night she died. But there it was in black and white. The words I wrote to her and she wrote back to me. Random stuff about a new rug I got and plans for the lunch we were having that weekend for my grandma's birthday. But at 9:00pm on May 30th I read the last thing she would ever say to me, "he was kind and softspoken". She was referring to my brother's doctor. I had sent her a link to an article that one of my friends on Facebook had posted and among other things it happened to contain a picture of him.

After that, I just signed off to go upstairs. I didn't say, "goodnight, I love you", and that makes me sad.

I read through a few of the other chats. Some with me, others with her friends. I went back to this day last year to see what we were talking about. Plans for Thanksgiving food of course. Then I had to stop. That's enough punishment for one day.

Already?

Somehow, one-quarter of a year has passed. A lot has changed. So much that I want to talk to her about - laugh with her. We could make each other laugh so hard that we really should've been wearing Depends on more than one occassion.

Like this one time, we were painting my brother's ceiling a light blue. I was standing on the bed and she was standing on a chair. The house phone rings. High on paint fumes, I bent down to answer the phone that was sitting on the bed. Hello? Hello? Phone keeps ringing. Mom starts laughing. I look at her like, why are you laughing, and why is the phone still ringing when clearly I have answered the dang phone! Well, she had unplugged that phone from the wall jack without me knowing. We couldn't stop laughing. And I peed in my panties a little.

Three months gone. Already.