My mother, Dorothy, had an easy wave. She would lean to one side, smile, and then her arm would come up like a comma. Sometimes her other hand would be in her pocket. The whole thing was like a soft stretch.
Today is Mom's birthday. I started the morning out okay. But the heat has worn me down, the day's grown too long. I feel the loss of her, fresh again.
Earlier I was short with Claire. And then snapped at Michael on the phone. Because the truth is, I want my mother. And no one else will do.
But as I type this I can hear her. Oh, darling. Please don't get maudlin. I'm fine.
She was a voracious reader.
She had a green thumb.
She never forgot a birthday.
She was an okay whistler.
She cooked a lot of chicken for the soup kitchen.
She loved her kids and grandchildren.
She had wonderful friends.
She would never have had a blog.
"If I get to come back again, Bets, I want to be a dancer," she'd tell me, now and then.
Dance, then, wherever you may be.
Betsy - I don't know how I even got into your blog but it's not coincidental that I hit upon this particular one! We lost our extraordinary mother a bit ago and I oft-times feel like a little orphan girl. The pain of her loss is so raw. She was just light and love, magic and music. Our lives our forever changed but I know she's with us - our Bette Worthington. One of her fave songs was "I Hope You Dance".....No doubt she's doing just that along with Dorothy.
ReplyDeleteJust wanted to share and send love. ~Maryclaire~