Traces Of Mom
Mom is here at our house right now. Joaquin wanted her to sleep in his bedroom. She's in her urn on the shelf. We laugh because we say the urn probably weighs as much as she did when she was alive. Joaquin said that on December 23rd, he asked if she could come and live here. It wasn't meant to be, and that upsets him.
Before coming here, she spent the last couple of days at her house. The mortuary called Friday to say she'd been cremated and asked if we wanted to take her remains home until the burial. My brother wasn't sure. After I finished crying and found out we had that option, I had a strong feeling that we needed to get her home. That's what she kept asking for all the time she was in the hospital. I feel horrible I couldn't do that for her when she was alive, couldn't even bring her to my house. She didn't want to die in the hospital, she wanted to be home. So, she went home--at least for a few days. I only wish that I could find a way to get her a milkshake and hamburger which she also asked for while in ICU. And water.
I don't know why I'm doing all of this. Does she know? Does it make her happy? Does anybody care? I'm still asking why she had to go through all of this. I'll never know, I guess. I also cannot grasp the idea that a living, breathing, thinking, loving human being could be here one day and not the next. It doesn't make sense. I don't know if I believe in heaven, but this surely can't be the end. I'm starting to think there is a different plane or dimension where we go to start our life again with those we love. At least that's what I'm thinking this minute. It could change the next.
I don't want to forget little things that mom said or did. As it is, I'm starting to forget her voice since I haven't heard it for so long. My sister was laughing today at the way she used to answer the phone, "Uh, hehlow." Very softly. We called it her professional voice. Then she'd let you have it. Just kidding, sort of, depended on who you were.
Mom used to refer to us as "Love" when she spoke to us. When I'd ask her something, she'd say, "Yes, Love." Or, when she'd see us, "Hello, Love." Joaquin remembered the word "a ver," which is like "let's see," when he'd ask for candy or something to eat while just hanging out at her house. She said "cabrone" or "cabrona" a lot. It wasn't used in anger, only in jest, like calling us brat.
She liked "Kill Bill" movies, westerns and Charles Bronson. She loved to dance and did so beautifully with my father. I used to love to sit and watch them. She loved to sing even though she couldn't hold a tune. I think she would have made a great actress.
In the past few years, she picked up the habit of humming softly to herself. It was sometimes annoying. Once I asked her what she was humming, she said, "Happy Birthday." I think this was at Thanksgiving.
I'm peaceful tonight with my mom in the other room. Joaquin is sleeping soundly. We have to take her back tomorrow. Sometimes I wonder if we should not bury her, just put her urn on the shelf like a doll. Would she stay here, at my sister's or at her home? I don't know. I wouldn't want to split her remains between the three of us, so we're burying her with her mother and younger brother. It seems to make sense. I hope she's okay with that.
Before coming here, she spent the last couple of days at her house. The mortuary called Friday to say she'd been cremated and asked if we wanted to take her remains home until the burial. My brother wasn't sure. After I finished crying and found out we had that option, I had a strong feeling that we needed to get her home. That's what she kept asking for all the time she was in the hospital. I feel horrible I couldn't do that for her when she was alive, couldn't even bring her to my house. She didn't want to die in the hospital, she wanted to be home. So, she went home--at least for a few days. I only wish that I could find a way to get her a milkshake and hamburger which she also asked for while in ICU. And water.
I don't know why I'm doing all of this. Does she know? Does it make her happy? Does anybody care? I'm still asking why she had to go through all of this. I'll never know, I guess. I also cannot grasp the idea that a living, breathing, thinking, loving human being could be here one day and not the next. It doesn't make sense. I don't know if I believe in heaven, but this surely can't be the end. I'm starting to think there is a different plane or dimension where we go to start our life again with those we love. At least that's what I'm thinking this minute. It could change the next.
I don't want to forget little things that mom said or did. As it is, I'm starting to forget her voice since I haven't heard it for so long. My sister was laughing today at the way she used to answer the phone, "Uh, hehlow." Very softly. We called it her professional voice. Then she'd let you have it. Just kidding, sort of, depended on who you were.
Mom used to refer to us as "Love" when she spoke to us. When I'd ask her something, she'd say, "Yes, Love." Or, when she'd see us, "Hello, Love." Joaquin remembered the word "a ver," which is like "let's see," when he'd ask for candy or something to eat while just hanging out at her house. She said "cabrone" or "cabrona" a lot. It wasn't used in anger, only in jest, like calling us brat.
She liked "Kill Bill" movies, westerns and Charles Bronson. She loved to dance and did so beautifully with my father. I used to love to sit and watch them. She loved to sing even though she couldn't hold a tune. I think she would have made a great actress.
In the past few years, she picked up the habit of humming softly to herself. It was sometimes annoying. Once I asked her what she was humming, she said, "Happy Birthday." I think this was at Thanksgiving.
I'm peaceful tonight with my mom in the other room. Joaquin is sleeping soundly. We have to take her back tomorrow. Sometimes I wonder if we should not bury her, just put her urn on the shelf like a doll. Would she stay here, at my sister's or at her home? I don't know. I wouldn't want to split her remains between the three of us, so we're burying her with her mother and younger brother. It seems to make sense. I hope she's okay with that.
<< Home