Remembering From the Bench

February 4th, 2021

My mother’s anniversary feels different every year. Some years I am more aware of my loss than others. I have spent the last year thinking, talking, reading, and writing about her and I have deepened my connection to her, more than I thought possible. 

I have mentioned before that I don’t really feel like I know my mother as an adult, but going through her boxes, reading her books and some of her journals have helped me with that. There are days I wish I could ask her questions about politics or social justice movements. I would have loved to talk to her about the most recent election. I remember she hated George W Bush, and I can only imagine what she would have thought about Trump, because in hindsight, GWB, wasn’t so bad. 

I remember my mom reading book after book about topics I didn’t understand as a kid. She would find a topic of interest, read everything published about it, feel fulfilled (I think, maybe she got bored?), and then move on to the next topic. It seems kind of scholarly, like she was an expert in many different topics. Lately I have been going down these types of rabbit holes of reading too. I have read books and books and books in the past year about racism, feminism, class, and gender. I know my mom was a deep thinker with insight ahead of her times, and I wish I could have talked to her about some of the things I was learning.

I also picked up some of her books about the tarot, to try to understand my mom’s spiritual journey. She loved going to church in our small town Epicopalian parish, but her understanding of spirituality was deeper than Christianity. She studied all religious and forms of thinking from Catholicism, I Ching, and the Kabbalah, to Huna, the Hawaiian religion. I wanted to understand what she was searching for and what she was finding. In this journey I found my own understanding of the tarot and found that I too, am a card reader. 

This year my mother is more on my forebrain than ever. It is easier for me to think about her. I can more easily share my memories with other people. In the past the pain of missing her was stuffed and wound so deeply inside of me I couldn’t bear to feel or think about these feelings. This year the feelings are right in the front of my mind and I am letting myself feel them, and it hurts, but I actually feel better. Freer and lighter. 

Last night I had a realization. I spent the last year grieving, feeling, meditating, and trying to get to know my mother. I did all of that, and I am still doing it. But who I actually learned more about and connected with was myself. 

It comes full circle. The goal was knowing my mother. Knowing my mother is knowing myself. “The goal is the source, the source is the goal."

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Dad and I sat on the bench today and I was sad to see that the top board of the bench was missing. It had been loose for awhile and Syd and I tried to fix it when we could. My plan is to contact the City to see if we can get the bench upgraded and replaced. It is 19 years old, after all. 

 
Dad and I spread Mom's ashes in front of the bench. We never did it years ago because life got in the way, but today was a beautiful day and it felt right. 

I also saved some ashes for Syd and I to put in our backyard by our apple tree. Now mom is home with us all the time and I hope our apples are the brightest ever next August.