My Mother's Eyes

I look in the mirror

and see my mother's eyes

and remember

a year of pain and suffering

and dashed hopes

for her and for all of us

~ January 8, 1995 ~

Mom has been gone 16 years now.  I got through another Christmas without her.

Today, I was putting on my makeup for New Year's Eve, and I saw her eyes again.

We were so much alike.

It is strange to think in a mere 8 years I will be the same age she was when she died.  I do not know where the last 16 years even went.  Sometimes it is all simply a blur.

I was a Kohl's with my sister before Christmas, and it happened again.  I saw a woman who would have been about the same age as my mother today if she had lived.  I did three "double takes" on her.  Kept looking back and staring secretly.  Wondering if Mom would have looked this way.  She had similar wavy hair as Mom.  And a cute little "Muffin Man" expression on her face like Josh used to call her each time they read the child's book together, and he would point at the sweet, smiling Muffin Man, and say "Ma!"

I wanted that lady to be my mother.  To still be here to celebrate Christmas with us.  I wondered whose mother she was and if they were going to see her on Christmas.  Or maybe she was simply like me ~ someone who actually did turn into a lonely old spinster like I used to joke about in my teen years.

Mama was my best friend, and I find it so hard to make friends without her.  It seems like all the friends I do make always move away, and then my circle of friends has dwindled to just me.

But Mom and Dad taught me to be my own best friend.  From the time we moved to Aptos in 1982, and I had to start my senior year at a new school.  Mama told me to think of that year as like I was already away at college and not worry about making too many friends. And so the three of us became "The Three Muskateers" that year and explored our new town together.

They taught me to go out and eat by myself.  And to go to a movie by myself.  And to not be embarrassed to be alone in public.  Maybe they taught me too well.

The loneliness of the holiday season always hits me on Christmas morning when I have no family to wake up early and open up gifts.  I never had my own children.  My plans are always for later in the day.  Oh, where did the days of waking Randy up first or him waking me up first and running downstairs with those those antique candle holders with unlit candles ~ just like the father carried in "The Night Before Christmas" ~ to check out the Christmas tree at 2 a.m.?

Where did the magic of Christmas go?

I could feel nothing like magic this year.  It's gone.  Did age take it away, or did cancer take it away forever?  Will I ever feel that kind of magic again?

And so, I headed for the Santa Cruz Diner where they know my name, and hugs of Christmas Cheer greeted me at the door.  Maybe I do have some type of community like my sister and my brother do even if I have to pay for a cheap breakfast in order to get it.

But it's a start.  And I will try harder in the new year to start my own traditions.  So Christmas morning is not so lonely.  And maybe, just maybe, Christmas will start to feel like Christmas again.

~ Our Christmas Angel ~