On August 31, 2010, my mother passed away on what was an otherwise unremarkable afternoon.  Hospice had accurately predicted her last day of life and my family was there with her, as I held her hand during her last few breaths.  It was a day of mixed feelings, some grief and some relief.  The sadness of mom's passing was tempered by the knowledge that she wasn't suffering from delusions and a loss of reality anymore.  In an odd way, that made the loss feel better to me.

As the initial days passed following the funeral, I had an awkward feeling of detachment.  It was like realizing that I'd lost my job.  Because I was retired, I had spent time with mom almost everyday for twenty months.  That was some pretty intense monitoring of her condition and hopefully, made her feel comforted and loved.  I didn't want her to feel lonely and I had her living just down the street from my condo.  It was very convenient and made my quick responses for accidents or other needs much more rapid.

I had more contact with Hospice as a result of their follow-up policy.  They called and asked how I was doing and if there was anything that I needed.  I was told that they had some group meetings that I could attend, to talk about mom's life and the grief surrounding her death.  I appreciated the sincere offer to reach out to me, but was handling my grief privately and doing pretty well, actually.  I had a few melancholy moments here and there that produced a tear or two, but I was doing well enough I believed, without becoming involved in a group meeting.

The Thanksgiving holiday felt awkward.  It was my first holiday without mom and the first one that we weren't together for - ever since I can remember.  She was conspicuously absent from our dinner table and for some reason it was stranger than when my dad passed away in 1999.  Maybe having both parents absent really drives the point home that they are really, I mean really gone.  The thought crossed my mind that I couldn't even pick up the phone and wish her a Happy Thanksgiving.  That made my Thanksgiving a little less warm and cozy this year.  My mood eased a bit after dinner, away from the table and the empty place there.

In a few short days it will be December 20th.  Mom's 90th birthday on that date would have been a huge celebration!  Sadly, it will be a day of remembrance this year.  She won't be here to blow out the candles on our little homemade birthday cake.  There won't be any of those pointy hats and goofy party horns this year.  We always treated mom like a little kid on her birthday - she seemed to love that.  She liked vanilla ice cream with her cake.  It had been a tradition, unrealized at the time.  Mom always liked her gifts and her card, no matter what it was.

I know that mom's birthday will be another awkward day for me.  Christmas will be the second of the one-two punches that I have to duck.  At least, I know it's coming and have a feel for what to expect.  Mom's homemade thumbprint cookies won't be going home with me this Christmas.  Last year her dementia prevented the making of her signature Christmastime cookies.  I sure missed them.  I do have her recipe for them and may even try to make some this year.  I have a wife and two daughters who would gladly help me with the project, if I were to ask them.  I'm not very good at asking, so hopefully I can make them myself.  We'll see.