So much of what I write, think, and speak of my mom is about her absence: how her death has impacted me, how much I feel the void she left behind every single day, how much she missed out on by not living beyond her mid-forties.
Lisa this is beautiful. Do you remember your after school routine with her? I was there once when you got home from school. She stopped us in mid sentence to greet you, to talk about your day with you, go through your backpack, and help you with your homework. Privately in the den. Then she sent you to play at the neighbor’s across the street, even though you didn’t feel like it. I think you’d been invited by the little girl who lived there. I loved how she stopped everything for you. She didn’t rush because I was there. She taught me so much in those moments.
Another time when I was there, she received a sexually harassing phone call. Apparently this had been happening for a bit. I think she hung up right away, but she discussed going to visit the caller because she recognized that he was lonely. That was her first response. Empathy for his loneliness. Not fear or ick, but empathy for him. When your dad and I both advised that she shouldn’t go to him because of the possible dangers, she was sad.
I absolutely do not remember this detail about after school routine, and am so grateful to add another set of moments to my memory bank, Terri! Thank you so much for sharing this.
Lisa, what a gentle, serene remembrance your writing evokes .... I continue to be grateful for the gift of your mom's friendship and will always mourn that she left us so soon. So many wonderful memories -- her sidewalk chalk homemade with the toilet paper cylinders as the mold for the chalk -- and her unparalleled 'Last day of School' candy supper. That will always be one of my happiest memories of my children's childhood -- and I'm sure that's true for the other kiddos seated around that table too.
Your mother introduced me to 'Gift from the Sea' -- she was so surprised that a girl who'd spent every childhood summer within walking distance of the ocean didn't know about this book.
At the time, I remember thinking that I would welcome the day when I thought more about my friend's life than about her illness and death -- I'm sort of there until I see something that reminds me of that summer and fall of 1995 with your mom; still stops me in my tracks.
I guess it's my long way of saying that no amount of time would be enough with that wonderful lady -- I miss her all the time. She would say that she left the best of her with all of us and I think she knew what she was talking about .... With love xox
Lisa this is beautiful. Do you remember your after school routine with her? I was there once when you got home from school. She stopped us in mid sentence to greet you, to talk about your day with you, go through your backpack, and help you with your homework. Privately in the den. Then she sent you to play at the neighbor’s across the street, even though you didn’t feel like it. I think you’d been invited by the little girl who lived there. I loved how she stopped everything for you. She didn’t rush because I was there. She taught me so much in those moments.
Another time when I was there, she received a sexually harassing phone call. Apparently this had been happening for a bit. I think she hung up right away, but she discussed going to visit the caller because she recognized that he was lonely. That was her first response. Empathy for his loneliness. Not fear or ick, but empathy for him. When your dad and I both advised that she shouldn’t go to him because of the possible dangers, she was sad.
She was an amazing woman.
I absolutely do not remember this detail about after school routine, and am so grateful to add another set of moments to my memory bank, Terri! Thank you so much for sharing this.
Lisa, what a gentle, serene remembrance your writing evokes .... I continue to be grateful for the gift of your mom's friendship and will always mourn that she left us so soon. So many wonderful memories -- her sidewalk chalk homemade with the toilet paper cylinders as the mold for the chalk -- and her unparalleled 'Last day of School' candy supper. That will always be one of my happiest memories of my children's childhood -- and I'm sure that's true for the other kiddos seated around that table too.
Your mother introduced me to 'Gift from the Sea' -- she was so surprised that a girl who'd spent every childhood summer within walking distance of the ocean didn't know about this book.
At the time, I remember thinking that I would welcome the day when I thought more about my friend's life than about her illness and death -- I'm sort of there until I see something that reminds me of that summer and fall of 1995 with your mom; still stops me in my tracks.
I guess it's my long way of saying that no amount of time would be enough with that wonderful lady -- I miss her all the time. She would say that she left the best of her with all of us and I think she knew what she was talking about .... With love xox
Thank you for this sweet note, Pat. Sending a hug right back to you.
This is so lovely, Lisa. Your mother left you a beautiful legacy of love and inspiration in 11 short years.
Although I knew her a brief time,
I admired her… you are so fortunate to have experienced such a marvelous woman.
I love you and your mom so much💕🕊️
Beautiful memories