Tough phone call. A few tears all around.
Michael told her about us being out at the restaurant for my birthday last week. Frank Sinatra was playing on the jukebox and Michael was drinking a Manhattan. The memories of my dad came flooding back to him and he began to tear up. My dad. My very dynamic dad died 12 years ago on November 15th after elective same day surgery. He was in ICU for 30 days before dying of a staph infection and pneumonia. He and mom had celebrated their 50th Anniversary just months before his passing. His birthday would have been 10 days later. He was 74 years old. Too young. The holidays following his death were difficult, at best.Mom couldn't talk long. She was already up and dressed and finishing up breakfast. She was going to an early morning Mass at a church cross town. She has several Masses said for him during the year - the date they met, their first date, the date of their elopement, the date of the real wedding, the date of his death and his birthday. She loves this church because they mention his name twice during the Mass and it makes her feel good.
Grief. I have written about it in these blogs. A physically painful grief. A new normal for my mom. A new normal for all of us. Difficult. Life changing grief.
I have one strong mom who, with the help of wonderful girlfriends, made the decision to carry on. To build a life without him. She learned to play bridge, became a docent at a local museum, continued to volunteer at the local hospital and built a strong community of girlfriends around her. But, she still dreams about him every night since his death. Every night.
She says that some nights, he is just there in her dreams. But, every once is a while, they are sitting together talking. They talk about my brother, sister and me. She hugs him. She wakes up feeling fantastic. They have been together once again.
It seems odd but when she dies, I will miss her so much but I won't grieve for her. She will be with him. They will be together again.
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