Call Them

It has been ten months since my Mom died (Tim Russert died the same day, their deaths will be forever linked in my mind). After the shock of her passing, life settled back into a regular routine. Living 600 miles away, our relationship was not daily like it was for my younger sister who lives in the area. It was easy for me to move right back into my normal routine.

My father came to visit for a few weeks this winter. He stayed with my brother who lives here near me. It was good to have him near, though very different to see him without Mom. After nearly 59 years of marriage, his being alone wasn't something I had truly considered. At any rate, he's doing well, much better than I could have anticipated.

Lately it seems my mind turns to my Mom often. Not memories so much, but things I'd like to share with her. For instance, after riding with my 16 year old I wanted to call her and thank her for her patience with me when I was a teen driver. I'd like to tell her about my daughter's quest for a new Easter dress, and my middle son's enjoyment of skiing. I also realize how many times I thought about Mom but didn't call her. Not sure why, just didn't. Our relationship was good, when we were together she'd talk and I'd listen or I'd talk and she'd listen. We would pick up as if we had been together the day before.

If I have any regrets, it is that I didn't pick up the phone and call her more – but it's comforting to know that her love for me wouldn't have been any different – it didn't depend on that. My lesson learned? Don't just think about people – contact them, they won't be around forever.

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