the zeitgeist of zoe

Happy Mother’s Day Mom,

I wish you were here. I wish I could celebrate today with you by taking you to brunch, toasting your beauty, your wisdom and our amazing & magical relationship over mimosas. I wish we could spend the rest of the day talking and laughing and just…being together.

You have no idea how much I miss you….or perhaps you do. Do you hear me talking to you? Do you see me when something happens that I know you’d get a kick out of and I cast a sideways glance toward the heavens? Can you feel me there when I go to your headstone because I need to really talk to you about something serious? And do you shake your head every time I cry over the loss of you (because I know you told me not to…but I just can’t help it)?

This place is not the same without you Mom. Nor is my life. There is a huge hole now, in both, that nothing can fill. When “things get tough”, as you always used to say, I feel alone because you were my counselor, my confidant, and you always had the best advice. When something so wonderful that it takes my breath away happens, I ache because I want to share it with you.

I still, even 5 years later, go to call you every night. Only now, where I used to actually reach for the phone, I just cast a furtive glance at it. It seems the knee-jerk reaction remains, but as the time passes, I am slowly beginning to adapt to this strange world without you in it. This is not an adaptation I am at all pleased with…but life goes on and I know you wouldn’t want me “stuck”. Thankfully I’m not anymore Mom.

But I miss you Mom. Every.  Single.  Day.

Some days, like today, I miss you so much it physically hurts.

I found a crinkled old photo of you and your sister. Its the late 60’s I think, and you are celebrating something. You both are dressed to the nines and OMG you guys have the poofiest hairdos I have ever seen! The smiles on your faces are unmistakable, even through the faded creases of the old Polaroid, and you are toasting with slim, elegant champagne glasses. Mom, you are holding the glass aloft with your bad arm…so it was taken before you got sick.

Long before either of you got sick.

“Better days” as we used to call them. Better days.

I look at that photo and your smiles are contagious. I can’t help smiling myself. Even now, through streams of tears.

That is how I think of you. Healthy, vital, glowing, happy. No pain, only celebration. Grammy and Grampy are there. And Auntie and Uncle. Celebrating with you.  And the Dom Perignon never runs out.

Every dog we’ve ever had…you’ve ever had…is there too. Frolicking, playing, chasing chipmunks and enjoying endless treats. Beasely Mae is on your lap. And she’s healthy too Mom.

To say I love you just doesn’t seem adequate. You were the most amazing person I have ever had the privilege to know. You were my best friend.  Thank you for sticking around as long as you did…I know they told you that you wouldn’t make it to see me turn five, but you stayed until I was forty-one. And I know it wasn’t easy.

Thank you for everything, Mom. Thank you for my life. Thank you for instilling within me everything that has made me who I am today. Many people have told me that the woman I have become reminds them of you. There is no higher compliment.

Happy Mother’s Day.  Words just don’t cut it…but I’m hoping that you can see me here, writing this, and know the depths of how I feel……….

I Love You… Always,

Your Little Girl