Seventeen years since Mom was gone - still doesn't seem possible. Just a few hours before spotting Dr. Klass' tribute to her parents, both gone over thirteen years, had talked with John about the impact of Mom's death at ninety-one. It was a engaged death - she was sharp as a tack up to the end, answering e-mails from a local college's Psych 101 students.
That was September 16, 2001. Part of me still hasn't fully recovered. The part that always had someone around ready to shoot the breeze, to keep me company as I made dinner, to remember long ago moments & memories. I am still a recovering people person plunged into an isolation that still continues.
The article brought to mind so many thoughts of Mom, of her always being her, a magnet for family & friends. The mailbox that's now empty day after day always seemed to hold a card, note or letter for her. The grandchildren - who barely speak to me now - stopped by every Christmas & usually whenever they were in town. Mike & Kerry wouldn't have dreamed of being in Bryn Athyn without long, lingering visits to Squirrel Haven. Peter was a staple.
It hit me that what I've been trying to do is restore a balance that never existed in the first place. That the BEST thing is to let those days be those days & let these days be what they are. That the best way to hunker myself down with friends is simply to be one. That as long as I live in isolation, the longer I'll be in isolation. No brainer!
Interesting - started out writing about an empty place, discovered it filled with every sort of wonder. Gotta love journaling!
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