Missing loved ones

I sit here in the wee hours of the morning unable to sleep, and I think about my mom.  I think about her most, I guess, because she was the hardest loss.  I was only 12 and I couldn't understand the concept of someone being here one minute and then gone the next.  I still needed her, and truth be told, I guess I would have still needed her now.

                                                 

I like to think that my mom is up in heaven, sitting at our dining room table playing gin rummy with my grandpa, Eleanor and my sister Margie telling everyone what Aunt Eleanor's cards were.  Now I picture my dad there, drinking his coffee and telling everyone all his stories.  Midge is there too.  I think she and Mom would have been friends; Jimmy our dog, and Fifi our cat are there too.

I like to think they are all there, fully knowing that this heaven thing could just be something we make up so that we can feel better about that gaping hole that is left in our heart when they are gone.  I want to believe it so bad, because then it makes it bearable.   Those times I wonder what my mom would think of the job I'm doing.  At holidays when I think about my dad in the room with the kids, or opening his presents so slow so he doesn't rip the paper.  Those moments when their absence is so apparent.

Everyone loses people they love.  There is no avoiding that.  And most days I am fine.  But then there are days when you feel that pang, and wish that you remembered that person in the picture.  I grasp onto those things that prove they were here, that it wasn't just my imagination.  The blanket my mom made for me, pictures of my dad the memories of which are still fresh in my mind.  Visiting with Midge's sister Judy.

I try not to let myself cry.  We all have to make that journey at some point.  It's hard to explain to a 4 year old, 8 year old and 15 year old.  I look at my oldest, Emily, and think about myself at that age.  How differently her life is than mine was.  And after everything I have gone through with my girls, I wish I could say I am sorry to my mom for all the trouble I caused her, and for all the things I said to her.  I always tell the girls that when you say things, you can't always take them back.

The world goes on, and I will get back to that place again, where life takes over these moments of sadness.  And when my girls ask about Grandpa and Fifi, I will tell them about that place called heaven, where the ones we love go and watch over us.  Do I believe it?  I have to.  I want so bad to believe it, and for now it's the easiest way for them to understand that which cannot be explained.

Yes, I miss my mom and my dad, my grandparents, Aunt Eleanor, Midge, and my beloved pets.  I was lucky to have been able to have them with me for a brief period in my life.  Each of them helped to make me who I am today.  They have left an indelible mark on me and helped to shape the person I am today.  And that means they are still helping to shape my children's lives as well.

So I will end this as it began, with a dining room table and a game of gin rummy.  Smoke lingers in the air as Rosalie, Carl and Eleanor take their turns putting down their pennies for their bets.  David sits with his coffee, telling everyone about his travels.  Midge holds her cigarette in her fingers as she prepares to take a sip of her tea.  And Margie runs around the table with Fifi and starts calling out numbers.  Eleanor is not amused.  And Jimmy lays in the doorway, making sure that no one can pass by without having to get by him.  And there is joyous laughter amid the voices as the scene fades to black.