It has been a while since our readers have heard anything from us! Sorry! We hope to do better in 2016. First -time grandmotherhood for Jane and a job change for Annice made things a little crazy!I But, here we go again! Welcome back to Oops50, which should really be called Oops60 at this point, but we are fond of the original name! Here’s Jane’s first post for the new year. And, please, send us your posts!
I talked to my mother the other day. The only reason that is worth mentioning is that my mother is dead. Here is how it happened. I was driving by myself on a fairly long road trip—the perfect circumstance for me to think too much about things that are worrying me—and I realized that I was feeling overwhelmingly sad. I just had one of those awful, down-to-your-toes sadnesses, and the first thought that came in my head was “I wish I could talk to Mama right now.” That thought made me even sadder because one thing I miss more than anything since her death is the ability to pick up the phone and talk to her about things—bad and good—that happen in my life. But then, I had this thought: ‘why not just talk to her now?’ And then I entered this very strange place where I imagined myself dialing her number (since most of my conversations with her happened over our land line and not by cell phone!), and then I had a conversation with her.
First, I apologized for not calling in so long, and then I launched right in to telling her about everything that was on my mind. And, the next thing you know, I was crying—just like the old days. I talked and talked and cried and cried, about every last little thing that was bothering me, and as I talked and cried, I felt the muscles around my heart start to loosen up, and I could feel myself start to breathe a little easier, and I realized how much tension and worry I had been holding in. And then—and this is the really remarkable thing about it—I felt that tremendous sense of release and relief that I used to feel when Mama would say something as basic as “I hate for you to be feeling this way, darling” or, her standard, “Get some rest, and I know you will feel better.” It was as if Mama, from across the miles and years and clouds or whatever is between us had said, “Everything is going to be all right,” and, wonder of wonders, I believed her. And, for the rest of the day—and even now, a few days later, I’m still feeling the effect.
I have to say: I’m glad I was on a road trip when this happened and not driving down a street of my town. No one could see me or overhear me, so they couldn’t accuse me of losing my mind and hanging out with ghosts. But I had this urge to share this experience on the blog because I highly recommend it to those of you have a mother who has moved on to her reward: give her a call sometime!