It’s been exactly three months since I wrote the first draft of this.

Today is my mother’s birthday. Three days from now is the day she died followed shortly by Mother’s Day. It’s been eight years. She was only 67 years old when she died. It’s the loss of opportunity that I feel. 

I didn’t have the connection with her that I would have liked to have had. I probably never would have but the chance to keep working on our relationship and getting to know each other ended eight years ago. It’s a twist of fate. It’s taken me so long to learn enough, to get better at understanding other people and myself, in order to be able to communicate effectively with other people. But I won’t be able to use that improvement in my relationship with my mother.

She didn’t expect to die that day. No one expected it. How fucking stupid we are with the little things that we get so upset about. The little things that we let ruin our days. We could be taking our last breath while we’re feeling angry, about what? It’s sad that so many people don’t get better at seeing this as they age. I interact with people everyday, many of them older than me, who get so thrown off by any little thing. It confuses me.

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As humans, our parents and our childhood play such a huge role in our entire lives. It makes sense but it’s also strange. Childhood and the role of our parents is mythologized in our culture. There can be a weight to it. Again, I get it but it does seem like too much. Everyone’s situation is different. You can be raised by both parents and be totally unsupported or even undermined. Or you can be raised by one parent or someone who isn’t even your parent and be wonderfully supported. But either way, we may look back and try to put the puzzle pieces together. 

It’s hard to put that puzzle together though. Even when the people involved are still around and willing to talk about the past, you might not find the answers you’re looking for. People forget things. When people are in the moment, they’re just trying to get through it. They aren’t aware of the potential future significance. Sometimes people just do shit. There is no answer or well thought out explanation. And everyone has their own filters that they see things through and their own pain and damage. There’s also a level of selfishness to asking people to go back to those places with you to help you put the puzzle pieces together. They might not want to go back because it’s painful for them too.  

I’m fascinated by the shapes our lives become as they twist, turn, up & down, spiral, and fold over onto themselves. And how the people of significance fit into the shape. Some casting shadows, some staying in the present all the way through and some are almost forgotten becoming ghosts. And how the shape of our lives changes over time affecting how we see the puzzles of our past. Looking for people who aren’t here anymore gives us a glimpse of the shape that our lives have become. It’s hard to decipher the shape when we’re in it. We need something to push us out of bounds to be able to see it.

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I do enjoy these types of days. The birthdays and anniversaries of the deaths of people who I love. It’s a hand to the chest pushing me out of the normal flow of life and time. We can’t visit people who are dead without leaving this mundane dimension. I get to visit with people who I love and I get a view from the outside of the shape that life has become. There’s a sadness to it but it is sadder to let these people go completely. There’s a joy to still having these moments with them.