the funny thing about having a dead mother...

One thing (amongst many) I learned from my mama in this life is how to laugh. How to not ignore the difficulty of a situation nor what must be done to move beyond it, but to shrink it down to manageable size and show it who's boss by laughing in it's face. There is something funny in everything, no matter how difficult or tragic. Even as she lay dying of cancer (only six weeks between her diagnosis and death) she found things to laugh at. She made me laugh.

So, I couldn't help but chuckle to myself the other night while folding laundry, as I thought about my mom as an angel, and more particularly all she is probably now privy to knowing. Things about my growing up....

Yes, mom--two or three (or five) times I took the Nissan 300zx out without asking. And once I did almost crash it trying to climb the steep, snow covered driveway at 2 am after a dance. And yes, I used to make sure I never moved the seat or steering wheel out of the position you had them in. And I'm sure if Google would have existed in the early 90's, I would have figured out how to tweak the odometer as well. I was not often rebellious, but I loved fast cars and you had one. And I had a Honda Civic hatchback. Could it almost be your fault? hmmmmm.... :)

Yes, mom--I peeked at the Christmas presents every year. I knew where you hid them. And even after you wrapped them, I would slit the tape with a box cutter, look, and wrap them back. I also knew where you kept your handgun hidden. And your "secret" stash of Hershey's and Butterfingers. If you were actually trying...you were a terrible hider :)

Yes, mom, there was that time when I was 13 that I didn't want you to come to my soccer game and I know it hurt you. But Jeff Chad said he was going to kiss me if we won. And although I wasn't going to let him, just in case he tried, a girl doesn't want her mom around for stuff like that.

Yes, mom, I used the credit card you gave me "just for emergencies" for lots of non-emergency stuff. I bought hairspray and flannel shirts and Depeche Mode tapes and frozen yogurt with it. And yes, once I did even buy that Swatch for my boyfriend. And no, he wasn't really going to pay me back. Thanks for making me get a job to pay for my own things, even if I did smell chronically of Domino's Pizza for the first half of 1993.

Yes, I broke that elevator in Germany. Not just me though. There were a bunch of us in it. And that really big kid started jumping...

Yes, I knew your PIN number and how to forge your signature.

Yes, I totally deserved that speeding ticket.

But you also know now, that I really never did have parties on those extended weekends you'd leave me alone while you went on business trips. Not that I never thought about it, but I honestly loved our home and didn't like the thought of it turning into some crazy party place like in all the movies I'd watch where there might be police or fire or a people making out in the bedrooms or a nuclear missile off the cover of a magazine that comes to life and crashes through the roof.

And you know now, too,  how very much I missed you being there when James was born. Missed you when I was going through the hell of the divorce, the slow process of healing, the joy of finding hope again. How much I miss you lately, when I've wanted so badly for my kids to have interaction with someone like me, but not me. Someone who could tell them how I used to be when I was little. Someone to share memories with and celebrate victories with. Someone to clean my house or put away my dishes or make me dinner or buy me lunch and maybe a cute new dress--even occasionally. I know you've been gone five years now, but I still miss you every. single. day. But you know that too, I know.