Mom's Hands

NO MATTER THE BLEAKEST OF TIME OR DAY, SHE WAS THERE. 

Always.

As dark as the day was night, she would comfort me. No ifs, ands, or buts. Even the worst times were always subdued by her unwavering support; she was a ray of sunshine in a cold, dark forest in an even colder world.

God, I miss her.

She was my eternal best friend, no matter what. I was sure she would make it at least a few more years and was left with a cruel taste of fate when she passed just two years ago. I cry every day because I am a lost soul without her and a misfit that hasn't adopted to her not being here anymore. I can't believe it  because she was so cogent and lucid --she would joke about her mortality and order my older sister that she wanted no part of machines and to pull the plug if she became disoriented. I didn't think we'd have to face that reality, even at the bitter end, I hoped if there was a blip,  she'd awaken and laugh and hold my hand.

Mom was adamant about taking her vitamins and living life to the fullest. But she didn't want all the various obstacles that are around when you hit late, older life. I would tell her constantly that she'd live forever or even past a hundred and she'd fire back, "hell no" even though she was willing to persevere. Whatever, the time, the years I took off to care for her (even when she didn't need it) were well worth it. I would never want to see her in a home and she wanted no part of that anyway. 

To this day now, I cry every day. It gets even more cruel because when you're alone, it's worse. You have no one to talk to and you remember mom's hand and personal generosity. No mater that, she was always around. Her old, Brooklynese was especially helpful when personal times got rough and tougher. If there was a particular worrisome time, mom was a comforting go-to. I never looked at my situation of helping her at the end as a sacrifice, quite the contrary, really, more like an extended benefit because she was such a vital force in my life, she raised me all by herself. Dad was no longer around.

Anne Landau, my mom, passed in March, 2018. I try my best to "get over it", to move on. She would tell me herself. I guess the times we live in today make it extra difficult. That's the only saving grace of her passing is that I don't have to worry about her getting the flu or the virus because as strong as she was, she'd not be able to overcome this. And the pain and unsettling aspect would make me more of the misfit I am and was. In her inimitable way, she'd laugh and agree; yeah, "Richie, get on with your life!" She would say that now only damn, mom, it's so dang difficult. I miss you so much.