September 4

 

I drove back to Mahopac today on my way to Dutchess Stadium.

I'm still checking on mail at the old house and for any other things that the new owner has found for us.

Parked near the mailbox on the road, I snapped a picture of the house, looking more beaten than ever as changes continue inside the edifice.

Of course, stopping by around 11 a.m. on Sept 4 will add a certain level of poignancy for it was Sept 4, 2020, when my mother passed.

I stood in the driveway that morning for what seemed like hours and, I suppose, it was. There was much to do and much waiting as well. So much of that day will forever be in my brain. There is so much I'd like to forget.

Two years later, Mom is obviously missed and with time, missed even a little more. Negatives become points of laughter and positives are amplified.

But, after these two years, I also look back and realize how hellacious it all was. Time also allows for that. We -- my sister and I -- just tried to survive and live in the moment but it was difficult. 

First, obviously, was Mom's passing. Then came what's next. Then came reality. Then came everything else.

It's over now. Yet, is it really?

The answer is sort of "no" as there are still things to clean up. Things that still appear in that mailbox.

So today is about reflection before baseball at Dutchess Stadium. 

We can all still hear her laugh. It's probably the first thing that people say to me when they recall her.

Her laugh. Her sense of humor.

And how it felt like everyone wanted her to adopt them.

But today is also about reflecting and it will take some time before I get past not only Sept 4 but Sept 3 when I took her to a couple of doctor's appointments.

She was gone just hours later, causing one of those doctors to call me in shock.

I look back with the realization that we knew time -- again, time -- was ticking away that summer. How she had to be at Sean's graduation and his party a few weeks later. How she had to be at her granddaughter's wedding that summer of COVID near Albany. How she seemed to have the time of her life and looked wonderful.

She was doing things on her terms. She'd have it no other way.

It felt like she'd given her all upon departing the wedding in August. 

Less than two weeks later she was gone.

Today -- and this post -- isn't about what happened after she died. Maybe those tales can be told one day.

So, stopping by the house this morning intensified the memories that were already slamming into me.

Memories of that last day. Memories of things she said and texted me that night.

The memory of seeing her in her recliner.

The conversations and phone calls. 

And the waiting.

Waiting for the ambulance.

For the police.

For the funeral home.

For the inevitable.

After everyone had left, I returned to the living room where I put things back in order.

Just as I did late in the evening of March 17, 1989, when I came home to find that same living room in a weird state.

Both parents are gone.

Both passing in the same place.

You're missed, Mom but I guarantee you this world would drive you just as nuts -- if not more -- than the world you left on Sept 4, 2020.

*****

Thanks to the great game of baseball for giving me a few hours to not think about any of the above. The Renegades' home season has come to a close and, barring any playoff games, my work there is finished for now.

I'll do a playoff game if they make it.

Perhaps I can write a post about all of that once it's officially over but I'm grateful to baseball for being a respite from the world.

Football begins on Friday for me.