My mind was late in comprehending what my body and spirit already knew. Not just a little late--months late.
But I get it. A lot was going on at the time. I was recovering from a complete hysterectomy. I was wrapping up a thirty-three year career in public education and leaving it under circumstances I didn't wish for or want. I was experiencing eustress from the retirement celebration with friends, colleagues, and family that reinforced the positive impact I had hoped I made through my work. Immediately after the party, my husband and I helped our daughter pack up her life and formed a two-car caravan from Dallas to Maryland. By the time the two of us drove back to Texas, I was mentally and physically exhausted.
I drifted through the rest of June and July, trying and failing to establish some sort of routine. I wanted to relish the spontaneity that retirement was supposed to bring; some planned lunches with friends and former colleagues helped a little. But I couldn't bring myself to do all the things I thought I'd accomplish--clearing out of school-related stuff, establishing exercise habits, spending time outdoors. Instead, I scrolled too much, tried retail therapy to the detriment of my wallet, puttered around the house. Applying for jobs and not receiving any bites just made my mood worse.
I finally got an interview in August that led to a part-time job doing what I love most--library work. With some structure back in my week, I'm re-establishing routines and getting clearer about what needs to stay and what needs to go. I have some mental bandwidth available now to reflect on what was going on during the summer. Which is exactly what I was doing when I realized what else happened back then.
June 26th came and went, and I didn't pause to consider the weight of this particular anniversary of my mother's death.
I was thirty years old when I lost my mother.
I turned sixty years old this year.
I have now lived half of my life without my mother. So much has happened in the last thirty years, and I wasn't able to share it with her, to lean on her during hard times, to take advantage of her knowledge and wisdom.
It was almost as if she was waiting for me to realize this, though. Since my epiphany, she appeared in a dream for the first time in decades. I keep noticing synchronous numbers on clocks, and thoughts of her pop in my head. I have felt her presence when I'm doing certain activitie, as if I'm getting her nod of approval.
Next June, I know that I will feel like something is off. I always do, even if I don't notice the date. Maybe I'll be more timely in remembering why, and I'll get that nod via a nearby clock--and smile this time.
