Five years down the road.

"When I got the news today

I didn't know what to say,

So I just hung up the phone.

I took a walk to clear my head,

This is where the walking led

Can't believe you're really gone

Don't feel like going home."

For most, today is just another day; that is until it becomes a significant moment in your life. 

Five years ago today, as I rode the Metra train from Evanston to Glen Ellyn—with a stop at the main train station to switch trains—I learned my Mom had passed away. On the train—a simple call—and she was now unreachable.

Five years is a long time until it feels like it was just yesterday and you wonder where the time went?  Death is an experience you can't get used to. It's not as if it's an event you can prepare for emotionally, it just comes, takes what it came for and is soon on its way. No hard feelings, no regret, just here and gone—leaving behind families who are grasping for an understanding.

Welcome to life. 

I suspect we've all lost something very important to us; it might be a loved one, someone you loved who went on to love someone else, or even someone you didn't realize loved you and felt the pain you didn't even know they were experiencing. Love is an incredibly powerful emotion, one I would not ever want to lose. Yes it can be painful, but it can also be wonderful. It just depends on the situation and timing.

When I learned of my Mom's passing on November 18, 2009, I really can't say I was surprised; she had been in hospice and I was pretty much told, "it was either today or tomorrow." I had spoken with her on the phone from my office that day, and although she was not able to respond, I still believe she was listening, knew my voice, and felt the love as I was letting her know we would all be "ok." Not great, not wonderful, just "ok" with her moving on. Those are the hardest words a son, daughter, grand child or spouse can ever say to someone who means so much.

Whenever I am back in St. Louis, I visit my Mom and Aunt and Uncle who are right next to her plot. I have looked for my grandparents, but they are not easy to find amongst all of the tributes to love ones who make up the cemetery. I have written before about my fraternity brother who is a few yards away from my Mom—as tough as it was losing her, knowing how young Marty was, that's just very difficult to fathom. (He died of ALS—no bucket of water poured on a head with a laugh, just a bitch of a disease.)

From now until the day I join her, I plan to remember her through "Snap. Shot." I realize one day, and I really hope not too soon, there will be another person I will be writing about; there is little doubt, he's the best Dad out there and he is VERY much still with us. Please  stay that way Dad! 

The photo above is one I did not take. I am the one in the middle. Whereas my Mom was not present in the picture, she will always be present as the woman who brought me into this world, nurtured me and called me her "son." Only one person can make that claim and I sure miss hearing it.

Thanks for stopping by.