Tag Archives: death anniversaries

Another sad anniversary

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My post on Thursday talked about the 10th anniversary of my mom’s passing, and today marks the 18th anniversary of my father’s death. These three days are filled with a deep sadness, but I spend the days bringing back the funny memories we shared, and there were many.

I remember standing behind the podium in the church as I attempted to give his eulogy. My legs were shaking so much I thought I would topple over in front of the packed room. The words I had written had been penned through many tears, but I wanted to capture the boyish nature of my dad, so I talked about his love of dancing, his odd stance on the putting green, and the fact that he enjoyed being naked. On such a somber occasion, I could hear the giggles in the room as was encouraged to continue.

I told the story of coming home from high school to an empty living room. Both of our cars were in the driveway, but the main floor of the house was empty. As I neared the basement door, I could hear laughter coming from below. I dropped my backpack on the kitchen floor and followed the noise. What a mistake that was! When I reached the bottom of the stairs, my parents, and our neighbors, were clearly at the end of a game of strip ping-pong. Random pieces of clothing were scattered around the room, and four naked bodies flanked the ends of the table as they battled to win the game.

I was mortified. I thought I would be able to escape without being seen, but as I backed up onto the bottom stair, my father saw me and welcomed me home from school. Our neighbors, who until then had their backs to me, turned to say hello. The image is burned into my memory. But that was my dad. He loved life, and he loved to have fun.

I’m sure in the eighteen years he has been gone, he has managed to create a naked club of some sort. I miss you, dad. Gone, but never forgotten.

How quickly a decade goes by

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Every year, I write a post on this day to remember my mother. It is mind-boggling to come to the realization that she has been gone for ten years! An entire decade has gone by, and I still miss her every day.

She was a beautiful person inside and out, with a wicked sense of humor and an infectious laugh. I told this story at her celebration of life, and she would be mortified to know I am sharing it on my blog, but this is one of my favorite memories and I need to laugh today to honor her memory.

It was winter, and mom and I had taken our three dogs for a walk, one golden retriever and two small mutts. Our retriever, Brandy, was well-trained, and was usually off-leash. He was always very proud when we gave him the leash handles for the two smaller dogs and he became the dog walker.

Mom and I had walked ahead, and when we turned back to take charge of the smaller dogs, we noticed Misty’s leash had become wrapped around her legs and Brandy was proudly dragging her backwards along the icy road. Muffin lagged behind, seemingly unaware of her sister’s dilemma. I started to giggle, and mom was not far behind. By the time Brandy had dragged Misty to where we stood, we were doubled over in fits of laughter. Through my tears, I saw mom buckle her knees together under the pants of her velour track suit. I knew what was about to happen. The color of the inside seams of her pants began to darken as she peed her pants in the middle the road.

Thankfully, we were close to home. I took the dogs into the house, and mom snuck around to the back door that led to the basement. I knew she would find some dry clothes in the laundry basket, come upstairs, and think she had covered up her secret. When she got to the top of the stairs, she was met with the familiar sound of my laugh, as well as the laughter of everyone else in the house. The story was too funny not to share with our family, and soon she was laughing along with the rest of us.

I miss those moments. I miss her. You are always in my heart, muther muther.

When tomorrow starts without you….again

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These three days are my worst days. Every year I think I can gloss over them and blog about something entirely different until I realize how cathartic it is to blog about these three days.

Today, March 7th, marks the fifth anniversary of my mom’s passing. When I think about the fact there have been one thousand, eight hundred and twenty-five days since I was jolted from sleep by the call that would change my life forever, I am astonished. I can live that morning over like it was just yesterday and feel the same gut-wrenching emotion I felt on that day. I remember having no feeling in my face and having trouble speaking to the poor woman delivering the devastating news to me at 7:00 am. I recall with great clarity how much my hand shook when I called my brother to let him know and I can almost count how many painful seconds went by as we cried together on the phone and said nothing. It was just yesterday, but it was five years ago. Time is funny that way. It can take moments and stretch them into what feels like an eternity.

Tomorrow is my bridge day. It is the day between the anniversary of losing my mother and losing my father. Saturday, March 9th, will mark the thirteenth anniversary of losing my dad. Although I have been able to replace my memories of him on his best days with the memory of watching him take his last breath, the latter image still seeps into my mind more often than I would like to admit.

The thing I have to remember to hold closest to me is the fact that tomorrow will start again, and though it comes without the presence of my mom or my dad, it starts again. And thankfully it starts again with the memories of them both and all of the wonderful moments they left for us to remember them by. Tomorrow starts again with new moments of joy, new memories to make, new tears, new friends, new adventures and new reasons to look forward to the start of another day. And although tomorrow may start on a sad note, it stills starts and it holds the promise of becoming something wonderful.