Tag Archives: memories

February 25th, 2017

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February 25th, 2017

There were days in February where I was a blank. Where my notes read things like “I worked. I can’t remember anything else.”

Since it was grief at losing my Mother that had me so disconnected, I decided to write about my memories of her on those days.

My mother and I had long conversations where we never agreed on anything, but we talked and we learned. About ourselves and each other. I have often worried (especially since she passed) that this was an unfair amount of emotional labor, but this was a role she relished and a way that we bonded.

I still worry it was too much to ask of her, but that’s for me to bear.

I miss her perspective. I miss my Mom.

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February 17th, 2017

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February 17th, 2017

There were days in February where I was a blank. Where my notes read things like “I worked. I can’t remember anything else.”

Since it was grief at losing my Mother that had me so disconnected, I decided to write about my memories of her on those days.

The biggest disagreement we ever had was whether I should marry my ex-wife or not and I don’t think that if Mom had lived to 100 she would have ever forgiven her for the way that ended up falling apart.

I miss her protectiveness. I miss my Mom.

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February 16th, 2017

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February 16th, 2017

There were days in February where I was a blank. Where my notes read things like “I worked. I can’t remember anything else.”

Since it was grief at losing my Mother that had me so disconnected, I decided to write about my memories of her on those days.

This is from Mom’s first corporate airplane flight in February of 2014 to come see me for her birthday. My brothers were just worried about her, but I knew she’d be just fine. During her and I’s last long, meaningful conversation, she told me how much she appreciated that I saw her as a competent, capable woman and laughed that I was certainly the only one of her sons who would put her on a bus and send her off to a city by herself.

I miss the brave woman who inspired me. I miss my Mom.

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February 14th, 2017

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February 14th, 2017

There were days in February where I was a blank. Where my notes read things like “I worked. I can’t remember anything else.”

Since it was grief at losing my Mother that had me so disconnected, I decided to write about my memories of her on those days.

This is from my Senior year of high school in 1996. Any time I didn’t feel like going out to “Halloween” houses after a Friday night football game, my friends (most of whom were in Marching Band with me) would hit my house. None of us were ever destructive, just bringing along loads and loads of toilet paper that we flung into every tree we could get to without disturbing anyone inside the house.

My house was an ideal target.

This night, we had either gotten in late and weren’t asleep yet or they just got a little too loud and we woke up, and my Mom ran outside with an old, broken b-b gun and chased my friends away. One of them admitted that for a moment, they thought she was actually chasing them with a live firearm.

She never stopped being proud of herself for this.

I miss her fearlessness and her humor. I miss my Mom.

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February 13th, 2017

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February 13th, 2017

There were days in February where I was a blank. Where my notes read things like “I worked. I can’t remember anything else.”

Since it was grief at losing my Mother that had me so disconnected, I decided to write about my memories of her on those days.

This is from when I was 16 and my mother became the first of many people to assume I was gay. Her reasons were comically flimsy and my poor Dad just wanted to sit down and take his boots off in peace, but instead ended up being yanked into a conversation that I could never get her to admit happened.

I miss her unexpected questions. I miss my Mom.

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February 12th, 2017

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February 12th, 2017

There were days in February where I was a blank. Where my notes read things like “I worked. I can’t remember anything else.”

Since it was grief at losing my Mother that had me so disconnected, I decided to write about my memories of her on those days.

This is from Mom’s trip to Chicago to visit me in June of 2013. We took an architecture boat tour of the city and she loved it. Even if I hadn’t, her enthusiasm would have been infectious.

I miss the person who cheered and occasionally shared in my adventures. I miss my Mom.

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February 1st, 2017

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February 1st, 2017

There were days in February where I was a blank. Where my notes read things like “I worked. I can’t remember anything else.”

Since it was grief at losing my Mother that had me so disconnected, I decided to write about my memories of her on those days.

This is from a trip to “The Beach” in North Carolina when I was a child of about 10 or 12. I made the long drive into a game, talking about Star Trek and deciding what each thing in the car and on the road related to. It was just Mom and I and she laughed and played along, participating in my silliness and encouraging my nerdy passions.

I miss all the ways we laughed. I miss my Mom.

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