February 6, 2011

It has nearly been a month since we lost Mom. I thought about her a lot today. We've been working on the application for the scholarship and it is just about ready. I have to put some finishing touches on it and then we'll send it on its way. After church today we went out to eat at Applebees. Just before we left I made a stop in the restroom. Mom and I always had this "game" we played in public restrooms--she always seemed to end up in the stall next to me and before I could finish, there would be a streamer of toilet paper come flying over the side of the stall. I would generally laugh quietly and throw a streamer back over to her. It was a game that we never talked about, but always smiled about, a special secret, just between the two of us. Anyway, I suppose today was the first time since Mom's been gone that we've eaten out and I've used the restroom and I wanted so badly to see that streamer of toilet paper come flying over the side of the stall. So there I was, tearing up in the bathroom, wishing for flying toilet paper...

The reality of her absence is setting in in small ways like this more and more each day. I haven't dried a load of laundry without cleaning out the lint filter, a chore that she nagged me incessantly about, "You're going to catch the house on fire if you don't keep the lint filter cleaned out." As I climb the stairs from the basement, I almost feel the need to say out loud, "Yes, Mom, I remembered to clean out the lint filter..." I haven't pre-heated the oven without first checking for the pots and pans she routinely stored inside, even though I know they won't be there. I believe I only look now, hoping to find the pots and pans hiding in the oven just like I longed for that toilet paper to come floating through the air today. Sometimes I call her phone, knowing she isn't going to answer, just to hear the sound of her voice on her voicemail message.

Several times a day I will catch myself thinking, "Mom would have loved to have done this," or "That's something Mom would have liked." Just yesterday I saw someone I hadn't seen for years and though, "I can't wait to tell Mom how much he's changed since the last time we saw him..." I'm not sure that these thoughts will ever disappear. And then again, I'm not sure that I want them to.