Notes to, for, inspired by my mama . . . and some things I prob wouldn’t want her to know . . .
Checking in . . .
It’s like way overdue that I write to you. You always wrote to me, cards, letters, emails. I miss you. I think about you all of the time. Last night I read some of your old college diary to Andrew. He got bored. Hope you’re not insulted. A lot of little notes about that college boyfriend of yours Jagdish and how you tried to fight him off as he made advances. But seeing as how you never fired him, I’m guessing you rather enjoyed his advances inspite of the Catholic doctrine chip in your brain. You were only 20-years-old when you made those entries. And probably more innocent than the average 5-year-old today. That was part of your charm, your innocence, your purity. And how you managed to keep your innocence, even into adulthood and after being rung out like a wash cloth a million times over is a miracle to me. I guess it was your faith. I believe in something. I don’t buy into all of the rituals of Catholicism, but I do believe there is some kind of God or spirit out there. Some higher power. And I believe in you. I know you hear me when I reach out for you. I should probably tell you that I had a can of champagne. Yes a can. Some spritzer thing. So my ideas are flowing with less filter, which feels kind of good. Really good actually. I’m also eating tortilla chips with a green salsa. I know you would want to be party to this party. You ol’ carb lover. I’ve never called you that. But we both know that 96% of your diet consisted of bread in some form or another. Maybe that’s why you got cancer? Who knows. Not important. I love you. Awww and that makes me cry. Because it’s true.
I had a good day today. I know you would enjoy that. You always genuinely smiled when I had good news. All you wanted was for me to be happy and at peace. You broke your back to try to make that happen, and still you couldn’t. But that’s not because you weren’t EVERYTHING, it’s simply because we can’t protect anyone from LIFE. It’s a big fat mystical, magical, scary, sad, surprising, brilliant, elegant thing. And sometimes it gives me a great big belly laugh, and sometimes–a lot of the time–it makes me cry gobs. You know that. I’m a big crier. But you never were. You so rarely did. This tiny and at the same time great big strong woman. You were amazing and stoic. A champion, a warrior, a light, a survivor. I love you endlessly and I will be reaching for you for the rest of my days. I remember when you were in your last days and could no longer respond, prob in a coma and I whispered in your ear that I would never forget you. I said that to assure you that you didn’t have to stay. You fought the Battle of Hastings 10 times over with your cancer and your chemo and then kept on going without food and water for days because all you knew was to fight and never stop giving of yourself. We all knew we had to let you go. We had to give you a little push even because you were so damn selfless to a fault that you would have kept that clock ticking even after your flesh was gone and you were nothing but a little skeleton. I realize that this post has now turned creepy for some. Well, it feels good not to sensor and it’s the god damn truth so there. Sometimes the truth isn’t pretty.
I booked a recurring role today. I’m really excited about it. It’s the first time in a while I’ve been super excited for a part. It’s not a huge part, but it’s a great project. And I feel like things are opening up for me in the universe. I really wish you were here with me to drink champagne and eat chips and talk and laugh and just be. You were the best person to be with. You were.