Remembering the Rock

In a Perfect World If I had my way, mom would still be with us. We would not have had to endure somber holidays because of she was always there. She would have unwrapped presents just as we did, she would have snacked and dined on the vast amount of food just as we did, she would have laughed and smiled just as we tried to do. Mom would be healthy and full of energy. Her prescriptions finally and miraculously cured all that was ailing her. She would have started living healthier and simply started living again. She would doll herself up, partake in today’s fashions, and gift the world with her presence. She would not have a bother or stress or worry. The times I remember her being happy as a lark would be all the time. Bad or sad news could not be shielded from her, but in the perfect world, unwanted news would be at a very minimum. Mom would have her cabin in the woods. She would be secluded from the bad, but would never be lonely because her children and grandchildren would visit her often. Her house would always be clean and comfortable. Her yard would be full of vibrant color from the abundance of foliage. Every luxury mom would have wanted would be at the tips of her fingers ready whenever she fancied. She would and could on a whim, style it how she pleased. And I would be there to rearrange it all whenever she liked. Mom would love to travel and go places with us. She would not tire or not feel ill so she would not feel she had to be confined to bed or within the four walls of her abode. Fragrant, mouth-watering meals would be again prepared by mom. She would find joy again in cooking. Visitors, friends and family alike, would help and also cater, and would never overstay their welcome. Together, all would relax to some good entertainment regardless of the medium. She would never be cold or hot. She would never feel pain or know a tear not brought on from anything other than joy. She would again accept our hugs, our kisses, and our conversations. I could hold her hand again. I could escort her across the street or parking lot. I could have coffee with her every day. At the completion of this project, this attempt at a tribute, I realize that much of what I recall was not necessarily good or happy. Mom did not live in a perfect world. None of us do. We got hurt and will continue to. We cause hurt and will continue to. I want to remember the vast number of positive and happy memories I have. I hope I have not strayed too far from accuracy. If I have, please don’t tell me. I wonder if the man, the son, I became would please mom. I am sure that she would be happy for me. She probably would tell me something like “it’s about time.” I feel good inside knowing a huge part of who I am is because I had the mother I did. It would sure to be nice though to share our time with her. Those of us longing for this, instead are left with an emptiness that can never be filled. I would have my Mama-sahn back. I would pat my Sugar Booger’s butt. And we all would have our rock back. Thank you all for listening.