I’ve been thinking about my mom a lot here lately. I think it’s because my oldest daughter is about to turn the age that I was when she died. 34. Not so young, but not nearly old enough to lose your mom I don’t think. Especially a mom that was such a beautiful person inside and out and a friend to me. A fun friend. After she left us, our family floundered a bit until we tried to rally for my dad’s sake and we would still try to have family gatherings. The heart seemed to have left us though.
After my dad died over ten years ago, the death knell was sounded over what family we had tried to be. Now it’s pretty much just my nuclear family of my husband, myself, our three children, and one grandchild. And a girlfriend of my son’s. I miss the busyness of many people even though they sometimes could drive me mad! I miss the connection to my Italian roots. I miss having that safe harbor of unconditional love and because it’s home .. they have to take you in. Now I’m that port to my family, but I no longer feel I have my port. And it’s a lonesome feeling. Somedays I want to be the child.