I miss my mom

So, I've been a particular brand of numb for a while now. My book launch and a recent Facebook conversation with one of my nieces is breaking some of that numbness off... and though that is good, it's hard.

My mother passed away this year. I haven't "really" written about it yet. And I've hardly spoken about the pain it causes me to more than just a few. But it really hurts.

Feel free to call me a momma's boy... because she was one of my favorite people ever. She was infintly quirky and nearly infinitely flawed, but she was my mom... and she was my friend.

She saw the author in me many years before I did, and I always thought she was just biased.

She was one of the few people I couldn't wait to read to (in recent years her vision got very bad and that made reading to her more special). I couldn't even wait to finish a chapter some times.
I'd start a phone call or visit with, "Okay this is going to be a clifhanger, but I just had to share..."
When the aforementioned cliffhanger was reached, she would always say, "Agh! Oh, you dog... how could you do that to me?! Tell me more right now, Mister!".

But, it was all in good fun and we'd laugh together, and talk about what was important in our lives and about the ridiculous things that didn't matter to anyone but us. I'm grateful to have a few other people in my life who I can share with in that manner. But it's never as frequent... and it's not my mom.

I miss her.

She would be so proud to see people buying my books.... She was always assured I would be a success. I'm still waiting to see.

She had a way of always speaking into the dark moments of my life and bringing light there. That... I deeply miss. (There are still some people in my life who do the same. So, I am blessed. But, it does not make me miss her any less.)

When I sat to write this it was because the memory of her was bringing tears to my eyes for the first time in a long while. There's been a lot of business that had to be taken care of regarding her estate (did you know that even if someone has nothing they still call it an estate?), and there's still some to do.

Now as I type, I'm being reminded of so much that was wonderful about her. And for that I am grateful. She had a humor that was awe inspiring (awe inspiringly lame at times... but me too). She could craft a story (in words more than on paper) that would keep you in rapt attention. She was an artist in the truest sense able to do anything she set her mind to with surprising success.

She was wonderful... and she is gone. It's hard to believe.

She and I had three projects we were going to work on together: one a children's manuscript she wrote when I was a child that she wanted me to help structure and improve (I'm still going to do that... in memory of her, and so all her kids and grandkids get the chance to see the whimsy that lived inside her.), a brand new fairy tale we'd been writing together that will probably take a long time before I can touch it again and not cry, and my mouse book, Hickory Dock, that she was going to illustrate.

It hurts to have those projects tied to her with her gone... because I know she will never put pen to paper on them again. She will never question my use of an obscure word that "...would be better if it was....", and she will never tell me how hard such and such is to draw....

I really miss her. I always will....

With dad gone nearly a decade, and mom gone now too, the world is a very different place. Harsher somehow, and yet I'm blessed with the joy of my wife and daughter to bring some softness to this place... for that I am eternally grateful.

I hoped when I started writing this that I'd say something profound, but now I just feel like I'm rambling. I'd like to be saying something profound, but this is just my heart pouring over the keys.

Mom knew I'd be an author... back when only two chapters were written. ((bittersweet smile))

As this crust starts crumbling from around my heart and the barrier I've bulit between my day to day and the loss of my mom begins to drop, I'm sure I'll write more. But, for now I just want to say,

"I'm here, Mom. I'm published. I know you love it. I know you'd love me either way. Thank you. And thank you for the gift of story.
I love you."

Geno