It has taken three emergencies in the past two years to make me realize the fragility of my own life. Now that my mama has passed away,I feel a dire need to somehow preserve what I can-remember of her stories. If only my brother and sisters had my desire and shared the same memories! But alas they have recollections that seem foreign to me. It is almost as if they grew up in a different household. Strange that we can remember such different stuff!
I have looked through what I have and what I have, what I have borrowed and know that something I have a clear memory of apparently no longer exists. Or at least if it does, I cannot remember where else to look for it.
I mentioned our mama Nadia has passed away and I am very much in mourning.
When papa Ivan died in 1985 it took over a year to get back in the saddle. However every death is different and we all loved mama more than papa, so in theory it should take longer.
I hope not.
There is too much to do. Also my doctors and nurses and even my physical therapists (and other medical assistants) have all told me how remarkable my recovery is. So I have a slight edge, but then again I am already 66 and not the youthful 35 I was in 1985.
However my test of listening to “Days of Wine and Roses” still fails to keep me from crying. Sometimes I am bawling tears of grief. Mostly I get depressed with damp tears slowly leaking out the far edges of my eyelids while prone in bed.. But I know I have to keep doing things. Every effort counts toward accomplishing my goals. But why is it so hard to remember what does goals are?
Still that is a story for another blog…
(he clip clops and slips away into his own sad sunset)