Hey, Mom! The Explanation.

Here's the permanent dedicated link to my first Hey, Mom! post and the explanation of the feature it contains.

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #23 - the phone calls

Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #23 - the phone calls

Hi Mom,

As you know, I tried to keep in frequent contact with you. Though I lived with you and Dad for nine years after your meningitis, I would call often if I was away, especially when I went to the Neahtawanta Inn in Traverse City for a week or two.

Even after I married Liesel, I spent many days at your Richland Woods House helping Dad take care of you, and I would call on many of the days I did not come over. After we moved to Kalamazoo, I called you every day. For years, Dad would position you near the phone, put the phone on speaker, and I would share about what was going on. In this last year, sometimes you were "zonked" (in a deep sleep), and so I just talked to Dad.

At the end of each phone call, if you were listening, Mom, I told you that I loved you and told you to have a good night. Sometimes I was a bit stern in telling you not to keep Dad up all night. I would also add that he was to give you a kiss.

If I was just talking to Dad, I would say this: "Have a good night. Give Mom a kiss for me and tell her that I love her." He did this every night before they went to sleep, listing all the people who loved her, and telling her: "I will see you in the morning."

This last statement was always true.

When talking to you, Mom, you would tell me you loved me in return. When Liesel and I first moved to Kalamazoo in 2011, you were doing better with this line in both clarity and volume. But as your neurological condition progressed, it became harder and harder for you to breathe in and say those words as you exhaled. Sometimes I would just hear you breathe in. Often Dad would say, "did you hear that?" or "she said it but you couldn't hear it." But I always knew. I always knew you said it. In your last days, I knew by just the look on your face that you were saying "I love you, too" to me in response to my ever so frequent "love yous." And I know you're saying it now. I feel it. I feel you.

So, I am still calling Dad, but I am trying not to call him every day, though it's difficult to break the habit.

The end of the phone call is different now. The phone calls themselves are the same. We share about what we're doing. We talk about plans. Same stuff. I am failing Calculus. I took Liesel to lunch at Food Dance. I have to call Rogers Heating to get the gas line put in the for the grill.

Every time we get to the end of the phone call, it's weird. I want to say what I have always said: "Have a good night. Give Mom a kiss for me and tell her that I love her."

But this statement no longer applies.

You are not there anymore to kiss.

But I know you still hear me tell you (or tell Dad to tell you) that I love you.

Thinking about this prompted me to create a tag line for the end of this blog because it (the blog not the tag line) is meant to continue these conversations, these phone calls (or the in-person conversations).

Here is the new tag line (which I have been using for a few days already);

Have someone give you a kiss, and tell you that I love you.
Talk to you tomorrow, Mom.

It's still true.


- Days ago = 24 days ago

- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1507.28 - 18:36
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