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Week 15: Checkov's Gun
Jul. 27th, 2014 12:46 pmLike a bullet from a gun, once the words are spoken, you can't retrieve them. You cannot change their path and you cannot apologize when they hit their target.
That was kind of how I felt when Dad told me that Mom had passed away. Like I'd been shot.
I recently read a poem....“Grudges,” by Stephen Dunn, he writes:
Before you know it something’s over.
Suddenly someone’s missing at the table.
I hadn't assumed that I would be a Motherless child at the age of 39. Oh, I know.....it's not like loosing a parent as a young child. It's not like I hadn't any time at all with her. But while I accepted the reality of my parents aging, myself....aging, I never expected those milestones to come so soon.
We've gone through some firsts now, since she passed. The first of her birthdays without her. The first holidays. The first Mother's Day. And their wedding anniversary. We've been careening along, all of us, like bullets fired from a grief gun.
Her birthday was rough. But we've never been huge on celebrating birthdays in our family, so there was no huge party to miss. But we felt it, nevertheless. The holidays sucked and I was glad to see them gone. For Mother's Day I had bronchitis and pneumonia, and spent the day in various stages of unconsciousness on the couch.
In June they would have celebrated their 45th wedding anniversary. Instead, my husband and I took Dad out to eat and listened to him rant about the government coming to take his guns.
Mom and the reason we went out on that particular day were not discussed.
My birthday was yesterday. I've hit 40, and I'd like to think I'm taking it with grace and dignity. But even though we aren't a family of big parties and tons of presents, I missed that phone call from her, wishing me a happy day. I missed having her there, with Dad and myself, at lunch that afternoon. I miss not being able to tell her, "Look Mom! I'm 40, and I'm going back to college in a month!"
We're coming up on the first anniversary of her passing. They say that the second year is in some ways, worse than the first, but then again, they also say that time heals. All I can think of is how each milestone is, in some way, like being shot all over again.
I am now 40, riddled with bullet holes, and I want my Mommy more than I have ever wanted anything in the world.
That was kind of how I felt when Dad told me that Mom had passed away. Like I'd been shot.
I recently read a poem....“Grudges,” by Stephen Dunn, he writes:
Before you know it something’s over.
Suddenly someone’s missing at the table.
I hadn't assumed that I would be a Motherless child at the age of 39. Oh, I know.....it's not like loosing a parent as a young child. It's not like I hadn't any time at all with her. But while I accepted the reality of my parents aging, myself....aging, I never expected those milestones to come so soon.
We've gone through some firsts now, since she passed. The first of her birthdays without her. The first holidays. The first Mother's Day. And their wedding anniversary. We've been careening along, all of us, like bullets fired from a grief gun.
Her birthday was rough. But we've never been huge on celebrating birthdays in our family, so there was no huge party to miss. But we felt it, nevertheless. The holidays sucked and I was glad to see them gone. For Mother's Day I had bronchitis and pneumonia, and spent the day in various stages of unconsciousness on the couch.
In June they would have celebrated their 45th wedding anniversary. Instead, my husband and I took Dad out to eat and listened to him rant about the government coming to take his guns.
Mom and the reason we went out on that particular day were not discussed.
My birthday was yesterday. I've hit 40, and I'd like to think I'm taking it with grace and dignity. But even though we aren't a family of big parties and tons of presents, I missed that phone call from her, wishing me a happy day. I missed having her there, with Dad and myself, at lunch that afternoon. I miss not being able to tell her, "Look Mom! I'm 40, and I'm going back to college in a month!"
We're coming up on the first anniversary of her passing. They say that the second year is in some ways, worse than the first, but then again, they also say that time heals. All I can think of is how each milestone is, in some way, like being shot all over again.
I am now 40, riddled with bullet holes, and I want my Mommy more than I have ever wanted anything in the world.