Missing

Hey mom, I miss you.

I know you’re less than five miles away and that I will probably see you this afternoon, but right now I just really miss you.

I’m standing in your closet shaking my head at how incredibly organized and fastidious you have always been: everything is arranged by color and size and length and neatly labeled in boxes and containers. You even have boxes full of other boxes! There are extras of everything… just in case. My whole life you’ve been able to provide me with the things that I run out of because you’ve always kept a spare for me.

Now I’m standing by your neatly made bed and I’m laughing at how more than 50 years of being a nurse ingrained hospital corners into you…and how you always rolled your eyes at my bed making attempts but never said a word. I’m looking at the stacks of unread books and missing all of those times we exchanged them. It makes me remember when I was little and our favorite thing to do was order Chinese food from Golden Buddha and sit at the table and share food out of the containers while we ate and read and didn’t say a word. 

I’m looking at how beautifully decorated and perfectly placed every single thing in this house is…smiling as I imagine you saving all of these cards and mementos from the people who love you.

I’m walking through the boxes of stuff from your shop and remembering all the afternoons we sat over a cup of coffee and all the evenings we sat over a glass of wine while you told me about your plans. I’m looking at the extra railings you put up on the deck to make it safe for your grandkids and missing the texts I’d always get every time they came over to visit you because you couldn’t wait to tell me how much fun you had.

I miss your smell. It’s still strong here in the house where your perfume and oils and candles and crockpots full of cloves were always simmering… even in the summer. You still smell like that a little when I hug you but it’s starting to fade. I see that some of your clocks have stopped and I miss how you’ve always been so on top of keeping new batteries in them and the times correct.

I am taking the last load of clothes out of your dryer and I miss how that stupid wrinkle protect alarm would go off every two minutes because you cannot stand to have your clothes not fresh and perfect.

I miss you, mom, and all your crazy ways. I love the new you… I love the new insight and the new sense of humor. I’m getting to know you again and I know we will find new ways to enjoy each other. Some things that I will not miss are your bravery and strength–because you still have them. Even when you’re scared and it’s hard to understand what’s going on around you…you are still moving forward. You haven’t given up and you’re finding new dreams. I am truly in awe of your strength. I know you’ll find a way down this new strange path. I know you’ll create flowers out of weeds and find magic in the mundane…you always have and you’re still doing it.

But, right now as I take a last walk through your home and your beloved things, I just want you to know:

I miss you.