Reflections on Momma Turning 70 (In Absentia)

Presence and Absence.

I've learned and grown as much in the 7 years of her absence as in my 43 years in her presence. The two are light and shadow. I desperately search and evoke and call on her. Our relationship requires so much more work, thought and intention than it did when I could pick up the phone and call her. To find her has been finding pieces of her in me and also to know the pieces of me that are so different from her. The light and the shadow. The richness of who we (she and I) are.

I miss her every day and, also, she is with me every day. I work to hear her voice, touch the soft skin of her hand and remember what her hair, neck and scalp smelled like when we hugged. I loved hugging her because A: She was the right height and B: I never felt a bit of self consciousness when our bodies were close and C: She is my mother.

In the years since she's been gone and I've had to work so hard to settle her ethereal energy with mine I've learned that there is no running away from pain. I don't know if my mother knew this in life but she does now because in the last 7 years we've learned it together. In the last seven years because of her physical absence we've had no choice. We could only find each other and keep each other by stopping in our tracks and in our pain. And now we know that we can survive all the darkness and all the light by staying still.

It's not easy to conjure her every day. Easier in dreams where she visits me to do uncharacteristically brave and reckless things. Adventuring with me, her girl. But because I never want to be without her I DO conjure her, daily. It's my work and I am a better version of me when I am able to gather her up and assemble all our pieces. I walk, talk, work and play with a greater strength and purpose when I've spent the time to put us together. We're so lucky. I love you Momma. Happy Birthday.