She would have been 92 today. 

I have known so many people who have lost a parent, some both parents.  Some lost a parent at very young ages.  My S/O lost both of her parents before she was graduated from university.  My heart used to ache for her, knowing that even being older than her, I still had both my parents.  I couldn't image what it would be like to lose one parent so young, let alone both!

In the early 2000s, suddenly and unexpectedly, my Mum lost her husband of 46 years.  I'm not sure I really had time to take that lose in and fully grieve because I came here to help my Mum take care of everything.  Apparently, as my brother would observe and point out 23 years later, I was running on "auto pilot."  I think the loss of my Dad finally hit me when I came back later that year for my vacation, and I brought my little dog with me.  She was so happy to see my Mum.  And of course after she finished with all the wags and kisses and greetings for my Mum, she was ready for the same with my Dad - but she couldn't find him.  She ran all thru the house looking for him. 

I became concerned that my dog looking for my Dad may upset my Mum.  But instead, she went into the bedroom, me and my dog in tow, and she knelt down in front of my Dad's chest of drawers.  She pulled the bottom drawer open - my little dog standing there next to her.  My Mum took out a plastic zip-lock bag and opened it.  It was the last shirt my Dad had been wearing before he died.  She held the bag in front of my little dog, who prompty stuck her nose in it to sniff around.  And then she looked up at my Mum, as if she understood.  I think that was the moment the finality and reality of my Dad being gone hit me.  

Now, my Mum is gone.  She went, hopefully peacefully, in her own home, me and my brother with her.  After hospice left and after our Mum was taken away, the house was suddenly, eerily silent.  And while we were heart-broken, we were not over-come with gut-wrenching grief as we often expressed to each other would happen if we lost our Mum.  We took her passing rather well, and in some ways considered it a blessing because our Mum had several health issues and her quality of life had begun slipping away at a fairly fast pace.  I dare say had she lived another year or so, she would have been quite miserable.  So I guess you could say that to some small degree, we were relieved, and her passing was a little easier to bear knowing what she had been going thru, and that things would only get worse.

So again, I found myself having to take care of things around here.  One of those things was to turn in the caption phone my Mum had.  I also figured I would terminate her landline service since the phone would be gone.   I made myself a reminder on my phone's calendar so I wouldn't forget to call both providers.  And so, one evening, about a month later, sitting here at my computer, my phone sounded.  The ringtone, a ship's horn, told me a scheduled task had come up.  I thought to myself, "what the hell?"  At the moment,  all I could think was, "I've already paid that bill, and it's too early for the notification for the other bill." 

I picked up my phone, swiped down and saw what the notification was.  Auto pilot must have been temporarily off, and that notification hit me.  It hit me by surprise, and it hit me hard.  My Mum is gone.  

The next day I called to terminate phone service and called to find out how to return the caption phone.  Then, I took my Mum's calendar from the wall, and wrote, "Happy Birthday, Mommy," in the square for today, then hung the calendar back up.

I miss my Mum.