Dear Mom: Three Years...


Dear Mom,

Ringo Starr turned 85 the other day and I realized that he is now older than you were when you were alive. I don't know why it hit me so hard, but it did.

It bothered me that I couldn't remember how old you were when you died right away.  I thought it was 84, but then thought it was 82.  I could have done the math, but instead I decided to go back and read the obituary that I wrote.  Big mistake.  Emotions came rushing at me and let's just say I was a blubbering mess for a while.  (Good thing I was home alone because who the heck would have wanted to have dealt with me?)

Three years ago was so long ago.  So much has happened since 2022.  My head spins when I think about all the changes.  (And I'm talking about personal changes; not the insanity that is going on in the world.  I don't know if you would be able to comprehend it.)

I so wish you were here to see your grandson.  I know he was your pride and joy.  The best investment you ever made.  (Thanks for helping making our son a possibility.)  I wish you could have seen him graduate high school.  (Though I know you would have hated his hair.)  I know you would call him at college.  I'm guessing he would have felt guilty enough to answer (although not all the time).  Then you could have reported back to me.  (Because let's face it kids, even adult kids, don't tell their parents enough.)

I miss our phone calls.  There were times when they were a pain in the you know what, but now I miss them so much.  I wonder if your friends miss them too.  You were always calling friends and family.  Never on your cell phone (the flip one that you rarely used and was for the most part wasn't even turned on), always on the land line.  And the phones never stayed charged long enough.  Guess that's because you  always had a handset at the ready.

What would you think of having a grandson who was turning 20?  (One with longish hair and pierced ears...that would have thrown you for a loop! But he still has those big blue eyes.)  Remember that tiny little baby who is now over 6 feet tall?  I threw a birthday party for my husband the year he was born.  You came all the way up to North Jersey on a Saturday (the worst time to leave the shore) and gifted my husband a baby bib from the yacht club.  Actually now that I think about it, most of the gifts he got that day weren't for him, but for our son who was to be born 13 days later. Remember the day you met him? How you were at some sort of ladies' event and when you heard we were home you came hurrying up from the shore. How you held that little boy and loved him like you had never loved anyone before. (Being a grandmother is different you said.)

Finally, there is one "funny" thing that I just noticed that reminded me of you.  I have an itch at the base of my right thumb that goes down to my wrist.  I've been having it for a while.  There's no visible reason why (no rash, no hive), but as a result, the area is somewhat purpled/bruised.  You had the same thing.  I look down at that part of my hand, tanned with that tinge of blue/purple and I see your hand.  And I wonder what it all means.  Maybe it means nothing...

It's been 3 years.  I miss you mom.

Love,

Me

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