August is a big month, filled with a smorgasbord of emotions. As I approach our 29th wedding anniversary tomorrow, my mother’s birthday and my parents anniversary is upon on me once again. I find I may not be the basket case having a nervous breakdown at the Morris cemetery I once was, but the pain is still never ending.
Time can only heal so much.
I mourn their company, words of wisdom, unique sense of humors, elegance and tactful approach to all walks of life. The talent and cool that radiated off my dad, as he wrote, sang, played instruments and drew art caricatures as easily as getting dressed.
The beauty that beamed from my mom, inner and outer. It wasn’t only her striking features and originality, it was the fact that you had never experienced anyone like her before. How she thought, how she spoke, how she took care of herself. She genuinely cared enough to help you, even if she barely knew you. When you walked away you were not only inspired, you gained a new insightful knowledge.
Most of all, how they should both be here.
My parents should be enjoying their older years. They are forever the age they passed away at, and it all seems so unfair. Not only my tremendous loss. Most certainly, theirs.
I’m not bitter anymore, I just have so much to tell them.
What brought me to the destination they always worked hard to deliver me to, is maturity and the lessons I learned from surviving cancer, while enduring it all without them. I’m proud of that unfortunate fact. I am the woman they always hoped me to be, because they saw it inside me before I even reached anywhere near that peak. My mom was known to parent all six of us due to my dads alcoholism and struggles with himself, she wasn’t rewarded enough in this life, while my fathers self doubt and alcoholism battled the immense love he wanted to be able to give her. They each paid heavily for six lives and the loyalty to their marriage.
If I could have one more day I would hold their hands, just like when I was the sensitive little girl who they worried the world would eat alive, and look in their beautiful familiar eyes, to tell them, “Thank you for giving me life, forfeiting your own plans to make us first, teaching me about people, instilling fine arts, music, and words in my mind, while holding my heart with protection until your last day, and the world didn’t eat me up.”