The Hole

Tomorrow will mark the second anniversary of my mother's death.

It seems there should be something else to say about that.

There isn't.

Oddly, in a way, I'm glad she is gone and not having to deal with my illness and treatment. What a horrible thing to say, but also what a horrible thing to experience, watching your child being ill, unable to make it better, being restricted by your own illness, and having no assurance of a positive outcome.

She would want to be here to help, but due to her own illness, which she battled quite bravely and successfully for more years than anticipated, she wouldn't have the strength to really help run this family. In good health, she was a whirlwind. But her last two or three years were different, and she tired quickly.

The boys loved her. She was a great cook. As Aidan said at her funeral, "She out jammed Smucker's."

As a family, we are working to incorporate bits and pieces of her into our present lives. We've a few select pieces of furniture that were special to her that we are making work with out stuff; I have some of her kitchen utensils that have been in my life as long as I can remember.

The hole her passing left in my life is not nearly as gaping as it was two, even one, year ago. Clearly, healing is taking place.

There are days when I really want my mommy. But more so now, it's a relief to know that my illness and treatment won't cause her any suffering.

In her honor, the boys and I will be making "grandma food" for dinner tomorrow. The specifics haven't been worked out. She wasn't a gourmet cook. Her food was every-day, down home cooking. We all loved it. Wish I could find her recipe for Swedish Tea Ring. How could that just disappear?

I think the vote is tied for "Burger Bean Cups" and "Hamburger Stroganoff." Like I said, nothing fancy. But her love language sure was food. And her famous coffee cake, which I won't try to make more healthy. If I had rhubarb, I'd make a rhubarb pie. Maybe Aidan and I will make some strawberry jam, just a little batch, this weekend. Of course, buying strawberries out of season will cause her to turn in her grave (or churn her ashes).

One skill I wish I'd learned from her is the ability to open a cupboard, fridge, freezer, or pantry and immediately know what can be made from the odd ingredients in there. Heck, just being able to remember what is behind closed doors would be a good place to start. I don't ever remember her saying, "I have to run to the store to get...X...so I can make...Y...." She'd just make do and it would work out. Not quite so much for me. I can barely remember what we have in the house, what I'd planned to make with it, and I almost always am missing some ingredient.

Meanwhile, we just keep plugging along, missing her, and making do without her in other ways.

I love and miss you, Mom.