Memories come Tiptoeing

Memories can come tiptoeing in the early dawn or at dusk and totally knock me off my seemingly safe perch in these troubled times. It can be something as simple as pouring coffee and noticing the clock on the stove. It is around the time he would call when he couldn't sleep and he knew I was up.

I loved our morning talks. And it is in the morning I miss him most. I miss his mind. And the wonderful hodgepodge of esoteric subjects we would discuss. Dawn and coffee and talk of politics and history and philosophy. A dear friend of ours, who visited our home frequently, once said we were the only couple she knew that considered debate foreplay. Intelligence has always been a turn on for me. And men that are willing to consider I am their intellectual equal I find very attractive.

Mother used to tell me I would regret being intelligent. I really haven't, Mom, wherever you are. But I definitely miss those individuals where there has been a wonderful synergistic meeting of minds. I would not identify my grief as a broken heart because he left this world loving me and me him. But sometimes I feel as if I have lost half my mind. And the silliest little things can bombard me from the far corners. This morning it was wanting to share a random thought and knowing he would not be calling in.

I don't know that this will go away soon. Mom died more than two decades ago and the silliest little things can bring her to mind like yesterday; looking for her recipe for fudge, shopping for bargains, her spaghetti sauce I still make religiously, not knowing the name of a flower and wanting to call and ask. Dad died before her and he has become more gentle on my mind but I don't think I will ever enter a hardware store without sensing him beside me, or see a swallow and think of him and his Purple Martins. Mom and I discussed the varieties of life when I would call perplexed. Dad and I would share the lessons of life over dinner out or working in his wood shop creating another treasure.

My question this morning is why one random thought while pouring coffee begins this cascade failure of composure, and sends me into a Niagara of tears for all of those wondrous minds that I have lost? I don't know that I understand grief or life and death. And the people I would once have had those discussions with will not call this morning. Nor can I call them.

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  1. The Blog of BeeNovember 13, 2010 at 9:28 AM

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  2. The Blog of BeeNovember 13, 2010 at 9:31 AM

    I've read this tree times and I feel your aching pain from where I am - thousands of miles away. I wish I could just be on your doorstep,

    We think we have closure but not always. It would not be right for us to just shut someone off when they have died. My father will have been gone for 24 years next month and I still miss the debates, conversations, jokes and yes, the security even though I was married with children.

    There are still things that I wish I could share with my mother or ask her - last year I lamented that I did not have the recipe for a cake that my grandmother used to make. It comes from the area in Austria where my mother originated from. She never made it as she said it was 'too faffy'! I suddenly had a desire for my family to experience the delights of this cake and actually found the recipe and its history on line. I wish my mother was still here - but she too has been gone for almost 8 years.

    You are still mourning - the loss of your soul mate - the one who you loved but could not live with. The one who even after separation, continued to be very much part of your life as you were in his. No one can take that away from you. I am sad for you and wish I could dry the tears.

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