That was the question my mom would ask me on our end of weekend phone calls. She always wanted to know what I saw and hear the stories about the excursion.
Up until recent years when her macular degeneration stole much her eyesight, I would put my pics in a private album for her to view after each outing. Oftentimes, an email would follow later after she viewed them, saying which ones she liked best – if there were owls that always required an “They are so cute!” comment (haha).
When she downsized her home after my dad died, she wanted some of my pics for the wall where she had her sewing table. She said she loved being able to look up and see them when taking a break.
All mom’s are special creatures, but, of course, your mom is the best, right? Mine was a true coal miner’s daughter, growing up dirt poor in southern Colorado. She got out of there as soon as she could, moved to Denver, met my dad, became a cop’s wife, had four kids, became a successful businesswoman, and, was the glue that held all of us together.
When my dad died suddenly 15 years ago, she pushed forward without her best friend, despite it being so painful for her. I am quite certain she wanted to ensure that the glue stuck for the family. It did – and it will continue to do so.
Yesterday was the first sunrise in my life without a mom. From now until I see her again, when I go “picturing”, I will undoubtedly feel a tinge of sadness not being able to tell her about the outing.
For my mom, Ma (or Shorty depending on how obnoxious I want to be), I will miss you and I thank you so much for the life and gifts of love you have given me. Say, “Hi” to Pa, and I look forward to the day when I can see you again. I love you.
