Tuesday, August 07, 2007


It’s funny when the shit that festers deep in your sub conscience bubbles to the surface, takes you by storm and creates a meltdown of emotion.

I’ve been a bit out of sorts for a week, wondering what was fucking with this great life I lead. I usually figure it has to to with how much I miss my kids. But I’ve finally resigned to the fact that they’re all having a great time, living their own lives surrounded by people who love them. I’ve grieved the loss of my wives and family sufficiently and have moved on in my own life pursuing my own happiness by bringing it to others.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my mom lately. I kept wanting to call her on the phone and hear her voice. I thought I had fully grieved her death. Guess not. As she had been sick for years before her heart transplant, I had spent more than a few years preparing myself for that eventuality. Closer to the end, we talked on the phone daily for months. She had good days and bad days but somehow I could always see the smile on her face as I reported my latest antics.

She was something else and there’ll never be another woman like her. It’s easy to pass the blame for wrongs done decades ago, but at her core she was one of the most loving people I ever met.

I miss her so much it hurts. She had a theory about teenagers, she thought that they should all be locked up and fed raw meat until they grew up. She put up with me and my shit, not to mention all the other commotion that seemed to surround our household.

I called her sister yesterday, my Aunt Jonnie. I never call her, but wanted to feel closer to my mom. She sounded great and was happy to talk to me. Like my mom she is a whack job in her own right. You see, I come from a long line of whack jobs. It just runs in our family.

Polly can read my like a book, and she reads fast. Last night we talked, cried and remembered what a swell person my mom was. Polly and I go back 25 years having grown up in the same neighborhood and attending the same school. . . before I got l got kicked out. She remembers my mom, knew her, liked her and knew that she would be happy the we are together.

My mom was my biggest fan, I could always make her laugh. I miss that.

Today I called Norm (my step dad, who was married to her for 25 years). We had a nice chat about the past and the present. He’s since retired and moved to Athens, GA to live with his daughter Mary Martha and her family. I can’t imagine that anyone would miss her more than him.

I don’t know if the wi fi in heaven has the sufficient bandwidth with pick this up, but mom, if your reading this. . . I love you so much and carry so much of you in my heart and personality. I miss you.

I put this little video together after she passed in Feb of 2006


Timmy Jimmy said...

Tom My friend...
I know exactly what you are feeling... it is a sign of aging..
Lately I have been having lapses of thought and energy. My mind wanders to my younger brother. I haven't heard from anyone in my family since his funeral, over two months...I thought the funeral and his death would allow the hurts to heal... I am lonely but unwilling to stretch out my hand. (Tired of it being chopped off)
When I golf, I think of him, not every moment, but often. Recently been fishing and I think of him there as well... when I watch the Mariners on t.v. I think of him... All the things we shared and did together, blown apart in an instant. He has been gone since May 23rd. just over two months... I find myself wanting to pick up the phone and talk with him, he is not there nor will he ever be again. So, what can we do? Walk lethargically thru life, play the game?
My mom died 14 years ago last April. She was 62. You video of your mom reminds me so much of my mom it's eery. I have all those silent movies and present ones too. Not enough footage to justify her 62 years.
I love you my friend and brother. All I can tell you is the hurt will fade with time.
Do your best to give yourself to others because our time will be here soon enough and what will we have left of ourselves for others to remember us by? Bitterness? Or a love for life that is contagious?!!!
Thanks again for sharing.

Nicole said...

My biggest thing, when it comes to her loss, is that for years and years we "expected" her to die, to a certain extent, but after the heart transplant, it seemed like she had been given a few more years, and we all sort of wiped our brows and stopped expecting it. That's the hardest part for me. I was no longer prepared, as I had been for years.