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| Christmas 1979 |
When I was 14 my mother died. She had pancreatic cancer and it happened very quickly. She was home for Christmas, went into the hospital on the 26th of Dec for what we all thought was a quick gallbladder removal and never came back home. You would think that at age 14 I would have a lot of memories of her, but I am sad to say that I really
don't remember her much at all. I do have glimpses of her every once in a while but I am not sure whether they are true memories or things I have invented. When I ask people about her, they always say the same thing--that "she was great," etc. There is no substance in what they have to share and it only makes me wonder more and makes me frustrated. So I have stopped asking and I try not to think about it much. What I do remember is the doll story I shared earlier and the fact that I always received a doll for Christmas. Every year without fail Santa brought me a doll. Even the year that we all got musical instruments, I also got a doll. I also remember how she made Christmas so magical. I believed in Santa until I was 15 years old (but that's another blog post). My father sent the above picture to me not too long ago. I cherish it. Then, last month after my daughters' birthday party I uploaded the pictures and saw this--a glimpse of my mom.
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| 2010 |
