I used to say that to my Mom..."Time flies" and she would reply..."No, time stays. Tis we who fly." And she flew away. I haven't posted anything in over a year and a half. Small wonder I even remembered this was here. The last few months of 2008 were chaotic, to say the least. Babysitting the grandkids, calling 911 over and over. My trip to Ireland. The holidays. And then, just as 2009 was beginning, Mom was ending. For the rest of my life, I'll see her face as she died, holding my hands and gazing at me with love and reassuance. It's ok, she seemed to be saying. This is what I want. It's ok. I'm ready to go.
She was ready to go, but I wasn't ready to have her gone. All the bitching I did about her when she was alive, seems so childish and pointless now, 13 months after her death. I think what I really wanted was my old Mom back. The strong, independent Mom. Not the Mom she was after her heart problems. I wanted to make her well. And I could never do that.
For nine months after she died, I just existed. I hated what was happening, and couldn't stop it, since the living trust she and Dad had put everything in was being administered by their lawyer. The problem is, she had trusted the lawyer, and he wasn't capable of being trusted. He had stake in what happened, and Mom's specific handwritten wishes were ignored, and he used the "law" to justify it. Whatever.
I remember saying a week after Mom died, that I would be glad if I never had to see or hear from my siblings again. Several times this past holiday season, I regretted that, but looking back, and remembering what was said and done, I think I was right. I still regret that my sister and I aren't on better terms, but realistically I know what a bitch she is, and I really am better off without her.
I love my new little house, the sunny kitchen, the tiny patio. I can't wait to start my green beans and other stuff, and plant tomatoes. I love a rainy winter night with my fireplace going. I love my quiet craft room and all the storage. I have Mom and Dad to thank, because it was the money from the trust that allowed me to buy this place. I hated leaving Mom's house, and if the lawyer hadn't insisted on selling it, I could have lived there quite happily on my own. Yes it was big, but I could have done it. I wish I had had the money to buy out the sibs, and renovate the bathrooms and kitchen. I could have rented out four of the bedrooms, and used the family room for my craft room. Buster would have had his yard, and I would have had the apple tree and the garden. Still sends a pang through me when I think about spring at Mom's. The forsythia blooming, and the lilac, and the apple tree. And I'm not there to see it. Course, Mom isn't either, so maybe it's good I'm not there. Too many memories, too much grief.