It's been almost four months since my Mom passed away. I went home to her house today with one of my sisters and one of my brothers to begin the process of sorting through my Mom's things. We got a lot done. We cried. We sorted. We cried. We laughed. We sorted. We ate. We cried. And so it went. It seems that my Mom literally saved every card that people gave her. Ten kids - that's a lot of cards. We toyed with the idea of taking them and making a little bonfire on the beach down in NJ where she spent countless summers shielding her children's skin from sunburn (not always so successfully). What do you want for a bunch of Irish kids?
The truth is I haven't cried much of late. It's not that I'm not acutely aware of the fact that my Mom is gone, it's just I haven't had anything really spark the tears. Until I got off the highway and headed up to the traffic light to turn towards her home and the following played from the radio:
"I hear her voice in the morning
How she calls me
The radio reminds me of my home far away
And driving down the road
I get a feeling that I should have been home
I cried like I haven't since the day my Mom died. One of the birthday cards I had given her said "If love looked in the mirror, it would see my mother's face."
And she'd be smiling.