Three weeks today since my mother passed away.
I was thinking yesterday of all the things I didn’t know about her that I wish I did.
How old was she when she got her first kiss? Who was the boy?
Who were her friends when she was a kid? Did she even have any, because she never spoke of anyone?
Did she like school?
Was she upset when she had to drop out of high school to help support her sick mom and my younger aunt? Resentful?
Why did her mother dislike her so much – this one I realize I should have asked my evil grandmother when she was alive, but I stopped speaking to her after I got married.
What was her favorite book when she was a kid? An adult? Did she even have one? Did she even like to read?
Why did she stop singing?
How disappointed was she when she was excommunicated?
Why did she marry my stepfather and why didn’t she leave him when things got really bad between them?
Was it hard changing jobs so often in her 50s? Going from the banking world to cleaning snooty people’s houses? Then caring for them when they got ill?
Where did she get her strong sense of self-worth from?
Why did she never vote?
What had she wanted to be when she grew up? Did she ever think college was for her?
What was her biggest fear? Regret? Desire?
Why did she continue to love her faith when the powers that be stripped her of practicing it?
Why did she like vanilla over chocolate? Okay, this one really bothers me because why does anyone like vanilla over chocolate??
The shock is fading…the pain, ebbing. But the sense of loss is still so, so great. I can’t imagine it will ever not be.