for mom, 2 oct. 1927 - 9 jan. 2004

I miss you. I miss you even though we argued every day we had to spend together. I miss all that we had - shared memories, the love of water and sunshine, good food, and the company of that one fine shining man. I miss all that we didn't have: peace between us, or understanding, or even tolerance. Mutual respect, and yes, I am quite guilty. And I miss all the hopes and dreams you held for me, even though they were not my dreams, and were instead the reasons for all our battles. I miss the thing I fought against all my life to become the person I am - where's my dark mirror now? We fought until the day we learned you were dying, and then there was nothing to fight about again.

I miss entering your house in the mornings, calling out hellooooooooo, helping you get dressed and getting your breakfast. I miss the wonderful way you could laugh at yourself, even when you knew your mistakes were dementia. I miss how you were so often surrounded by friends, life-long friends, who changed the game to accomodate you when you could no longer understand the cards. I miss seeing you napping in your chair by the window on winter afternoons, warmed by sunshine, the newspaper crumpled in your lap. And I miss waking you from that slumber to sit with me a while and have your supper. I miss tucking you into bed.

Mostly I miss all the time we never had together, time stolen by the damage in your mind and then the cancer. I miss all those fights we never got to have. I miss the security I felt in having you around, even so diminished, because even though in middle age I railed against being considered a child, I wanted always to have the safe harbor of being your child.

I miss the peace we never forged, but I'm getting closer to fixing that every day.

I miss the party we're not having today, to celebrate your 79th birthday. I miss the elaborate meal we would have prepared for the gathering of my sisters and brothers and nieces and nephews, and your dear friends and neighbors.

I miss your bravery, forging on for twelve years alone without that one shining man, even though sometimes it didn't look like bravery to me. I fear I could never be as brave. I miss being able to show you my life, and the fulfillment of my dreams.

I miss all that was, and all that will never be. I miss you, very much.