A lot has changed in my life over the past nine years. I’ve earned a Master’s Degree, become a Jew, buried my Dad, had weight-loss surgery, said goodbye to friends that didn’t support me and said thank you to those that did, bought the house I grew up in, got married (although the State of California will deny this), and soon I’ll say hello to 50. Despite all I’ve done, there’s one thing I haven’t done – talk to my Mom.
Nine years ago today, September 6th, 2002, my Mom lost her fight with breast cancer. I watched the essence of who she was leave her thin, frail, body behind to enter a space or time or place where pain is non-existent and worry is no more. I often think of that moment and feel thankful that I was there as she passed from one life to the next. I know it’s not for me to understand what happens after death but I truly hope that every dream she had somehow, in some way, shape, or form, came true.
At her memorial service, I played the song, “For a Dancer,” by Jackson Browne (I’ve included a YouTube link above and hopefully it works because I’ve not tried it before)because the melody moves me and the words describe many of the feelings I have about not only her death, but death in general. When I listen to the song, I can sometimes hear her voice telling me what to do or how to dress or what to say. I never thought I’d miss that voice, but I do.
I miss you, Mom.