Time Flies

 This weekend will mark one year since my father died. It will mark one year since I have been without any living parents,  a place I expected to be only when I was much much older. I spoke to a friend the other day and he pointed out that he was 25 when his last living parent died and all I could think was, "damn".  25 is so young to be alone in the world. Don't get me wrong this is not a post about me feeling alone and wanting to be hugged or held or any of that stuff. Generally speaking I don't want or need that kind of comfort. I have a beautiful wife, two great kids, a home, a job, a little spare cash to sometime splurge on. Life generally is pretty good. But I do miss them, my parents. I miss them terribly at times. Mostly I feel sad for them not knowing or seeing what I have managed to do with my life. I am sad my mom never meet my wife and know what wonderful woman she is, I did good. I am sad she will never know Grace or Willow. I am sad my parents will never see my house, garden. They will never see the home me and Heather have created for our family.

    I couldn't talk or carry on any type of real conversation with my father, our lives were so different, his mental capacity to comprehend half of what I might want to talk about just not there, but I took some comfort in just his being there. He was a honest, caring and devoted to his family, a kind man to look up to despite all of his challenges. That alone was/is worth something. Being with or near him felt right and good. That it is gone never to be had again, saddens me. 

    My mother was a different story. Now that woman could carry on a conversation. She was strong willed and determined. A rock of support and confidence and criticism if she deemed it needed. She saw herself as everyone's equal. Smart, confident, stubborn and argumentative. She loved a good debate and man did we fight. Sometimes I think we were so much alike while at the same time so different. besides the fighting we often had private quiet conversation's about life, the universe and everything (Sorry Mr. Adams) that have led me to understand my mother was sooo much deeper a person than many thought. Remembering my mother is difficult for me because the woman that died in a hospital many years after I had moved away from home was not my mother but a shadow of the woman I knew as mom.

That woman's body had been ravaged by Multiple Sclerosis to the point where my mother was a prisoner encased in a broken shell. She was incapable of even communicating to her family, her speech slurred and difficult to understand. I didn't generally visit home after moving out though in hindsight sorely I wished I had.  I should have, but I lacked the courage to see my mother knowing she would be worse than the last time I had seen her. It was cowardly I know, but I was young, full of myself, and I did not consider nor understand the fleeting nature of time. I did not understand that what I was afraid of seeing, was in fact killing her, and I at least owed it to her to face it, particularly given the fact that she had no choice but to face it every day of her life. I missed seeing and knowing my mother for the real woman of inner strength that she was. I still miss our conversations and discussions about getting married, having kids, raising a family, and being a parent. Conversations I suspect few people would have imagined we had back in my late teens and early twenties. and there have been times so many times when i wish i could ask her advice, and sound her out on many of my current issues and concerns.

 So now I sit home today at my Mac crying because I miss my parents.  Sad and nostalgic for conversations and visits that can never, that will never, happen again. Missing the comfort of just being in a room with someone you trust and love unconditionally. Mourning that I can never again go "home".  Mourning that I can never share my home with my parents. I can visit the town where I was born and raised, but I can never again go "home". 

I just hope my new home will be the special place for my children that the home my two parents created for me despite and because of all of their challenges and obstacles. I hope I can live up the the the example that they gave me.

 I really miss my parents sometimes.