Barbara Falconer Newhall, June 5, 2010
Ten reasons why I’m finding it impossible to write about my 92-year-old mother, even though she’s all I can think about right now:
- I love my mother, and I don’t know how to write about that.
- My mother is difficult, and I don’t know how to write about that.
- My brothers can read, and they know about this blog.
- My mother can read. So can all six grandchildren.
- My mother has osteoporosis, dementia and a messed-up stomach. She is losing herself, piece by piece, like dandelion feathers floating off in the wind, and I don’t want to think about that.
- My father is dead. My in-laws, Scott and Ruth, are dead. If my aging mother dies, there will be no more grown-ups left in my life.
- I don’t want to be the grown-up.
My mother and her mother with my brother Jim in an era when hats were taken seriously. Photo by D.B. Falconer. - If my mother can die, anybody can die, me included.
- If I write about my mother I might find out something about myself that I don’t want to know.
- I’d rather grab a Clausthaler, curl up with the afghan that once belonged to my mother-in-law, and watch “House” re-runs. Except I’ve already watched every last one of them in the three months since my mother broke her hip.
Note: My mother died on December 18, 2010. I still don’t know how to write about her. One of these days I’ll figure it out. You can read more about her at “Tinka Falconer. Her 93 Years.”
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Write to your Mother. You may find that it fills the hole you have in your life. Tomorrow is my Mother’s birthday. She was a wonderful, difficult, loving, and sassy woman. She wrote me one of the most important letters of my life the day before I found my husband with his girlfriend on Jan 1, 2007. I treasure that letter. They were words she spoke to me on the phone which I asked her to write to me so I always had them. I only get that letter out when I really need those words. She died on June 13, 2009. My life will never be the same. I want my Mother and I want to go to Cracker Barrel for her birthday.
Paula, What a wonderful idea — write my mother a letter. That never occurred to me. And, I love it — Cracker Barrel is your special spot!
Mother’s Day is coming soon. Another day that is never the same. Hugs to you. Cracker Barrel is where we always ended up. I go there just to remember the fun we had.