Categories
non-fiction

Mother

I don’t remember your eyes. I’m pretty sure they were brown, but that is because I cheated and looked at a photo. It’s almost ten years now and I’ve done so many things that would break your heart. Maybe I’ve made up for it a bit with one or two positive acts, but none of it changes the fact that my only original family member that mattered, the one that at least tried to understand me, is gone.

We all know loss. I’m not special. Loss is universal and actually binds us in its sad embrace. Everyone knows what it feels like when someone they love dies. It is complicated. It hits you in waves and at unexpected moments. You mourn and you wonder what they would have thought about things large and small in your life. It’s an ache that flares when you least expect it.

Smells spark memories of events long forgotten that lead you back to her. And there is regret. Always regret, no matter how much you let the departed know you cared. Regret over time lost, things unsaid, milestones missed.

You learn to put up a dam, lest the regret overwhelm you and with that you move on with life. A life you never chose, but the one you have. You cope and you carry on and try to let the people you love know how much they mean to you so that the burden they carry when you are gone is a bit lighter.

© 2022 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.

By jebrownwriter

Houston, TX-based Writer and Photographer. Proud pet rescuer who spends nearly all his money on them.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s