sometimes you just have to be sad

I was talking with a friend today about politics, and political blogs, and it made me miss Mom terribly. The first year I thought about her every day, usually in the morning while walking to the Skytrain. Just little things like, “It’s sunny, I bet Mom would have sat outside in the garden today”. Now in the second year it shames me to admit that it’s no longer a daily thing, although I suppose that’s natural. I work in a place she never saw, doing a job she never knew about, living in a place she’ll never see. It helps with moving on, but it’s horrible at the same time. It’s just more sporadic now. I’ll come across a photo I didn’t expect, or sometimes I’ll laugh or say something and it sounds exactly like her.

Or sometimes, like now, I’m reminded of her reading Atrios or Salon or Talking Points Memo (I don’t know if those are still around, but that’s what she read back then), calling me, and shouting about the latest outrage and nonsense. I’d shout back in agreement — I am nothing if not my Mother’s daughter — and then we’d both end up laughing because sometimes if you don’t laugh about stuff you have to cry.

I’m sort of laughing now, but not really. Some things just will never be the same without her. I love you, Mom.

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