I received a Seasons Hospice flyer in the mail yesterday. I get mailings from Hospice periodically and I appreciate, nearly a year after the death of my Mother, they are still sending gentle reminders that they are there if I need them or if another member of my family needs them. I don't pass along the information to my family like I should, and I think I am the only one in the family who receives these mailers. They know I get them but maybe I should work harder in getting the information to them.
Hospice remembered an important date is coming up in early April. It will be the first anniversary of my Mother's death. April 4, a date which is that much easier to remember because, it is also my youngest step-son Patrick's birthday.
Remembering my Mother is easy. I do it every day. Lately, I've even been seeing her when I see myself in the mirror, a funny thing since, I never used to think I looked very much like her. Sometimes, when I laugh it is like she is right here in the room with me.
The other day, I got a box of beads out, all different sorts of beads and started playing around with them. I made what could have been a really neat key chain but, I hadn't planned for how to attach it to a key ring and there was no way to put keys on it. I laughed so hard when I realized this was the sort of thing my Mother might have done. She and I used to shop for those beads together. Make things together. Make things apart, and then show them to each other. I have her keys now, attached to two long strands of beads she strung years ago. She strung them on leather and managed to actually attach them to a KEY RING. They are hanging in my kitchen. Mom and I would have had such a good laugh over my stupidity at stringing those beads for no purpose, for no good reason.
My Mother was my best friend for most of my life. I was like a moth, circling the bright light of her being. There was really nothing I wouldn't do for my Mother. Sure, I'd deny her once in a while, maybe just to prove I could, like when I had to take over all of her shopping and laid down the law that there would be no more going to 3 or 4 different grocery stores to pick up a bargain here and a bargain there but, for the most part I simply couldn't resist pleasing her. She was the boss and she knew it, even when I would tell her, "you're not the boss of me," we knew they were just hollow words, just a joke, just a silly little girl pretending. My Mom was the boss of me and she knew it full well.
I don't call on Hospice. Sometimes I wonder if I might some day but, the day never comes. Instead, I write her little poems on scraps of paper.
I see her mouth when I look at my mouth. I see her little forehead in the mirror when I pull my hair back to wash my face. I hear her laughing when Scooter does something silly in play. I cannot get away from my Mother and I am happy not getting away from my Mother.
The Hospice flyer said rituals can help with the observance of a special anniversary, such as the anniversary of your loved one's death. They list a few ideas for family and they sound very special. I don't know what my ritual will be on the day of her death, or if I will even observe one. I appreciate, most, their little reminder that I should not let this day sneak up on me, that I should prepare myself for it.
I just don't know how. I don't know how to prepare for the anniversary of her death but, I know, every single day, I know how to celebrate her life.
It's right here.
It's still right here.