Because they are ten or more years younger than me, my youngest brothers were in their beginning teens when our Mom died. I eventually ended up taking the last two out of the four that were still at home when she died. When each of them had their first (and still only) children, as they turned to present their children to me, the tears flowed. I told them “I know.” They didn’t know I knew what they were thinking so they told me, “Mom will never know this.” And I repeated, “I know.”
So when my girlfriend and I were talking today, I told her, “It has been over twenty-four years since my Mom died and nothing will ever erase the pain or make it go away so don’t let anyone tell you the pain will go away. It just doesn’t. The days just go by faster and we are busier.” After she left, I looked around and thought about the fact that I am here in my third home since my Mom died. She would have loved this house with the dream kitchen. I cooked a turkey in her honor - she thought that when winter was at its height, a turkey cooked will warm everyone’s heart.
And it did.
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