flowers

The flowers started coming Saturday 2pm.  They were so pretty and smelled amazing - a very stark contrast to the smells that had normally filled the front of our home.  Roger's nose had blocked the urine smell that filled the downstairs I didn't have that particular gifting so I smelled it and wanted to cry.  I could do nothing more than ask that she try to make efforts to wear certain garments.  It was strained at best - horrific at worst and all I wanted to do was cry and run.  But this was my house.  No matter who helped it's purchase - I should feel at home in my own house and I did not.  I was trapped on the second story and really didn't want to make my way down - I knew I was behaving badly - I should want to spend time with her - but she had burnt bridges that I could not find energy to rebuild. 

She really was an amazing person.  I wish I had known her as an aunt - friend - church goer - anything other than family.  She had such an amazing life - was in Heroshima with her husband - Chief of Surgery - Oscar Posey Howard - right after the bomb dropped to help.  She was there - not really to do anything medical just the wife of someone helpful - but she was there.  It counted.  I can't imagine that life but well it was her's to live and live it she did.  I am not going to stand here in judgment but (don't you love the - I won't say but Jesus - here I am saying) she was an observer that was so the ugly american.  When I heard the stories it was littered with "and those "Japs" did this . . . " yeah.  I need a minute. 

She was demanding at best and a complete bitch at her worst and now that she's gone I miss the hell out of her.  Don't get me wrong.  My house is for the first time in a year - my house.  I can breathe.  It's mine.  But I do actually factually miss her.  We went to the bookstore and I unknowingly bought a book for her.  She doesn't need it today.  Nor does she need neosporin that I felt I was stealing today for my finger.  Mary is dead.  Mom is gone. She doesn't need any damn thing from me.  It's Mother's Day.  And I am happy to have my house back, but - really, as irratating as she was - I miss her.  Pass the peanut butter and jelly - and there's a fresh pot of coffee waiting for her.