7 years.

7 years ago, on a sunny fall day that was meant for being outside, soaking in the last bits of summer, mum died.

I write about this and her every year on this day; mostly it’s so that I can contemplate and remember.  Gives me a good excuse to cry, and be sad, but also grateful. The posts get a little easier to write because everything is less acute. They get harder to write, for the same reason.

Maybe 7 years is a good time to end these? I don’t know yet.

**

I recently had the chance to visit with an old friend who ended up knowing mum well, when he and I became friends. We talked about our time together and laughed so hard at shared our memories – in which mum played a starring role, front and centre. We were an inseparable (and unlikely) trio, my friends and I, but for whatever reason, Mum tolerated (appreciated?) our ridiculousness with an eye roll and a glass of wine.

I love hearing these stories, which perhaps time has distorted a little bit, because they make me laugh so hard that the best kind of tears stream down my face.

She definitely had an impact.

**

I miss her less a little less for me, but more for my kids. Anja doesn’t remember her, but she knows the stories. The boys have vague memories that I hope they hold on to. We do talk about Omi quite a lot, still. They are getting old enough now that I can tell them the stories about when Mum (me) would do stupid teenage things that would make Omi so mad.

They absolutely love those stories. Which is a good thing, because I’ve got a lot of them saved up.

**

I think of her most when I am doing something with the kids that is so different than any of the things she and I would have done together. The kids are so active and I try hard to be a part of all they do. I can hear her in the back of my mind, fretting because someone might get hurt and asking me “when are you going to grow up”? But I’m not, really: that’s my way of parenting. It reminds me of how different I was/am to her.

Reading books together on the deck? I look down and my hand rests on my lap exactly the way I remember hers doing. I am my mother.

**

One arbitrary day on a calendar can stir up so many emotions. Today, I’ll hug my people a little tighter. Tell them I love them a few more times than usual. Send them a few excessive ❤️ emojis. Because I still can.

**

7 years.

God, that’s a long time. And no time.

We miss you. We love you.

**

6 years of memories.