March 2012

It has been two years since Charles and my mother died. I thought I had everything under control and I find that I still slip into my state of just wanting to be by myself and not being around anyone. This year, though, I’ve tried to keep busy—but to no avail. So, I’ve been thinking of all of the good times I had with my mother and Charles.

I miss Charles going to the pool hall, because on those nights I would go get my mother and we would go to Hamricks. In the past, gasoline was a lot cheaper in Georgia, so that was my excuse. One month Charles looked at the credit card bill and said, Hamricks, Hamricks, Hamricks, Hamricks. Is there a reason why you go to Hamricks every week? I answered that I go get gas. He looked puzzled. I then said, if you stop shooting pool, then I will stop going to Hamricks. Hamricks is on my way to get gas. Hamricks was never mentioned again. You may be thinking, what is Hamricks? It’s a clothing store and I believe my mother and I had everything in the store memorized. The first time I went to Hamricks after she died, I found myself looking for her. I miss being able to pick up the telephone and calling her and telling her about my day and asking about hers. But, I missed her a long time before she died. With Alzheimer’s they slowly drift away…..

I miss Charles a lot when I’m paying bills. We always did that chore together. We did everything on line and now I do the whole process by myself. I miss Charles when I’m working in the yard. He used the riding lawnmower and I did the trim. Now I do it all. I miss Charles when I want to tell him crazy stuff. He understood me and didn’t judge me for all of my silliness. I miss the silly songs that Charles used to make up and sing to me. I miss the poems Charles used to write to me. No one really knew the soft, romantic side of him. I miss his hugs, because he hugged me all of the time. I miss the dry humor Charles had. I just miss him!

Today, as I looked outside and saw all the trees budding out and the dogwoods in bloom, I realized that this is my third summer without the two of them, and my first summer without my dad. I know I have my daughter and family, but it’s not the same. No one really knows and understands until they have lost their parents and their spouse. It gets a little easier, but the loneliness is still here. My hope is that I will see them again. My strength and courage has come from God who is with me everyday, hears my prayers, and sees my tears.

DR
3/25/12