The last post

This will be the last time I write. On this blog, I mean.

My mom died 15 years ago yesterday. I remember the shock of hearing this news in the middle of the night. Oddly, I went back to sleep for awhile. My way of getting ready for weeks of crying and grieving and changes, I guess. Plus, mom couldn't get irritated with me anymore if I showed up somewhere late. I was pregnant and exhausted and scared. It's difficult forging ahead in life without a mother.

Another strange irony was that I thought my mom's funeral was lovely. I remember beautiful music and poetry - I don't remember the specific pieces- I wish I did - but I remember thinking that they were lovely. I felt like I was floating through her funeral and her burial. Graceful, peaceful, and sad.

In the end, my oldest sister had the incredible courage to put a flower - a perfect pink rose- on my mother's casket, in front of everyone, and say 'goodbye, mama'. It was heart wrenching. My other sister and I followed suit. There's so much comfort in having older siblings lead the way through life. And death.

The most powerful memories I have of my mom are when she would ask me to come over and visit when she was depressed. She felt better - sometimes much better - after we talked, and that made me feel good. I couldn't stop her addiction to cigarettes but I helped ease her depression. And it was during those times that she was with me in the present moment. She was honest and sincere and thoughtful. I think that's the person she truly was - at least that's the person I truly connected with. I was closer to her than I was - or have been - to any other person. Ever. I imagine I won't find that kind of depth with anyone ever again.

So this is the end. Of this blog. Not the end of my mother's presence. She will continue to live through my memories and writings and stories that my sisters and I share.

My mother's story is just one of many. . many people who die from an addiction. And all these people are complicated and multifaceted, too, I imagine. Just like my mom. I didn't want to write a polly-annish blog about how wonderful and perfect my mother was. I think we have a habit of putting loved ones on a pedestal - especially in families with addiciton. I know - I used to do that with my mom. Cigarettes are an addiction that kills - more than any other addiciton. My parents were addicted to cigarettes and my family suffered because of it.

I miss my mom. Not all the time, and not all of her. I miss her laughter and energy and her strong hands. I miss the sound of her voice and how much she loved me. I miss those deep, intimate talks that brought me closer to any person ever. Her laugh - I loved her laugh. And her innocence and beauty. So for now I'll say what I haven't been wanting to say for a long time - because I know I can come back to visit her anytime I want, simply by writing.

Good-bye, Mama.