In journaling/writing/ the force

eleven

Today marks 11 years since my mother died.

Sometimes I’ll forget the name of a song, or the trick she used to get candle wax out of tablecloths, and I’ll reach for the phone.

That’s when it feels like it was just yesterday.

Other times, when I think about how my brother’s oldest barely remembers her…and the twins? She’s a woman holding them in photos, and stories they hear.

And I think about how she never met the hubster; didn’t see me in my old job at the Theatre Alliance, much less finally making a go of this business-dream of mine full-time.

That’s when it feel like it’s way longer than 11 years. (eleven)

I’ve written so many things about her since that day – some here, some on my old blog; some in the circles with the Writer Babes, some privately, in my journals. And while I kept meaning to write something new for today, it seems that most of the writing about Mom is just for me now; not necessarily for bloggy consumption.

So, instead, since I didn’t share this video here or on social media after reading it for New Jersey’s inaugural production of Listen to Your Mother (not really sure why. i might have to write a while to get to the bottom of that one…)  – 11 years since the world’s axis came unglued for me and my family – and everyone who ever met/adored my mom (they’re often one and the same) – here’s my story of what it’s like to walk through the mist of life without the amazing Paulette.

And if I may be so brazen to suggest (as i am, and i will.)…

…please don’t ever hesitate to listen to your gut, show up, and say what you need to say to everyone you love.

Now would be good.

 

And yes, Mom, I know I should have left the tissue on my chair before I got up to do my reading. but, y’know: like mother, like daughter…y’always have to have a tissue nearby just in case.

You Might Also Like

  • Julie
    March 30, 2015 at 2:35 pm

    Just acknowledging. Trying to do my best to be here in the present for my own family, both near and far. Thanks for the reminder. xo