The mind plays tricks

 As I was falling asleep last night, I told Nick that I need to call my mom in the morning because I have not spoken to her in a long time.   It is true that we have not spoken for a long time.  She died in 2004, almost 20 years ago,

It's weird and normal at the same time.   You cry when you get the news of a loved one's death. You cry at their funeral. You actively grieve for a long time.     But your life goes on.  And there's an empty space where once there was none.

The first time I was aware of a person's death was when my grandmother was visiting us and she got word that her brother had died.  None of it made much sense to me.   Grandma was old (though probably not ant older than I am now).   The concept of her having siblings and my mother having aunts and uncles did not really register in my child brain.

And then you are all grown up and have your family.  Your own children,  And for the most part you feel like an adult with responsibilities,  Even if it is just making sure everyone has clean clothes.  

I think that for Nick and I, being married for almost 6 years when we had our first baby gave us a step up as far as being committed and secure.    She was so wanted and welcomed into our lives.

We used to go stand next to Courtney's crib at night just to be sure that she was still breathing.  Mortality is awesome but frightening as well.  Having the new human totally dependent on you for everything.

And now she is all grown up and taking care of herself and her responsibilities.  She, and our other kids, now all adults, don't really need us anymore.  Not in the ways that they did for a while.    They have all moved out and are on their own.  Some in couples some not.  All of them.

And I think of the people we have lost.  My brother.   Our parents. And now more frequently friends and family members.

I wonder, we wonder, Nick and I, when will our kids realize that we are mortal and won't always be around?   When the buffer of parents is no longer here and they are bumped up into being the older generation.  Then will they have a glimpse of what we have had and felt for so long?  

Among my mother's last words, as my sister and I held her hands, were "I'm going to miss you".  And then she was gone.  A last breath, we thought and then another as the breaths came further apart and then they stopped.

I miss her.

My mom and her grandfather, who is holding my sister

My mother with her first grandchild and first great grandchild