Mom has been gone for twenty months exactly. Holding "Mr. T" Tea pots in TJ Maxx and crying isn't the most glamorous thing I have done since she died, but it happened. She loved the A Team. She would say, "I pity the foo that messes with my babies." She was Italian/Hungarian and her Mr. T impression was hilarious. Christmas is rough.
I also picked out a collection of English cookies and a teas set, and a scarf that was almost a Monet design. She would have looked beautiful in it. It would have made her dark brown eyes pop.
Most days I do just fine. Other days are a gut-punch. Only those that lose a parent know this random feeling. One moment things are great, then you see her or hear someone laugh like her and suddenly, your heart is caught in your throat and you cannot breathe.
She is still so very much a part of me. Her humor got more inappropriate the more sleep-deprived she was. It was the times we would be talking and laughing late in the night that made the biggest impression on me. She would argue that when we would pray together we connected the most, but I have a slightly different view.
I can remember the sounds of the thunder storms as they ripped across the plains in Kansas that summer we lived in a trailer. Things may have been scary, but she got us through by making us laugh. She would make jokes about everything and everyone. It was the first time we were forced into a small space just the five of us.
I remember how hot the trailer was. It was a very small town. It was weird from going from a lot of friends in Palisade, Colorado to just your family very quickly. It was hard for Mom too. But having each other seemed to be enough.
She would do things to intentionally embarrass us. Like rolling down the window when the High School Cross Country team was running down the street and ducking down while letting out a long, loud whistle. My sister and I would just be trapped in the passenger seat like a deer in the head lights.
Early on, she had a standing joke with her best friend and yell, "Hey! Fred!" At random men, then, say, "Oh, you're not Fred!" It was an inside joke that went on for decades until they were caught by a man that demanded to know how they knew his name.
Her humor made her the person she was. Pain could not stop this. The nurse asked her, "What are you in for?" when she was headed in for a back surgery to correct the ruptured disks and without hesitation she said, "Tummy tuck and boob job." The nurse was flummoxed and rifled through the papers until she "got" the joke.
After she died, I was sad a lot. I would never hear her laugh again. She would never tell another clerk that asked, "Hey, do you want your milk in a bag?" to which the standard reply was, "Nope. Leave it in the carton, it makes the bag all soggy."
This year, however, the sadness have given way to a light. You see, her humor won't die. Those that lived with her, around her, and were friends with her carry that humor, and that light to others.
I know that she is a part of who I am. Which is why the guys at the "Jingle Bell Fun Run" in Spokane, WA that were dressed in running shoes, and *ahem* packages around their waist would have elicited an inappropriate whistle or, "Do you deliver those packages to single friends?" I did not say these things. Nor did I whistle. But I smiled inside because I felt her so strongly at that moment being the funny, belligerent person she was. I was relieved to know she wasn't really gone.
Then, there was the old lady at Albertsons talking on a cell phone while driving those rascal motorized carts. She wasn't watching where she was going. I was concerned as she headed toward the wine display. I watched in horror, too far to yell for her slow down, and no managers to help. Red wine crashed to the floor in a dark, red pool. I walked up and said, "Free wine tasting! Bring your own straw!" She was immediately mad at me. So I added, "Clean up on aisle wine!" I felt my eyes brighten as I knew Mom would have done the same thing.
The runs this week have been cheerful reminders of the gifts she has left us. She gave us a quick sense of humor, and the ability to laugh at bad situations. Those are the best gifts you can give to anyone.
Copyright December 16, 2014 by H. Jennings. No part of this blog may be reproduced in any way. This post and all posts on the blog are sole property of the author. Do not spin the content. Do not reword the articles. Do not swipe my goods. Do NOT translate into other languages and call it your own. In the words of Spongebob Squarepants, "Don't be a jerk... It's Christmas."
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