Saturday, October 8, 2011

A Kiss to the Sea and the Sun

It's starting a little earlier this year.

The inexplicable tears.

Until I realize later, they were for her.

How can it be that my sister and I will soon be the same age as she was when she died?

How is that possible?

Where did all those years go?

I wrote so much about Mom last Christmas that I really hope the season goes more smoothly this year.

I know I am thinking about her earlier this year because of Rhonda's surgery.  In just 10 days, my sister will have a tumor cut out of her leg.  99.9% certain is not cancer.

But I am suddenly getting more scared for her.  Going under the knife.  The anesthesia.  The lengthy recover period afterward.

I have been driving around Capitola and Soquel a lot these past two weeks.  And so, the flashbacks of my mother are centered around our early days spent discovering the neighboring towns of Aptos.  We are all young again.  Mom is younger than what I am today.  Rhonda's boys are babies and toddlers.  And although life had many difficulties even then, our world seemed so much simpler.  We hung out so much more often.  Little lunches at that old Mexican restaurant in Capitola Village ~ El Toro Bravo ~ followed by a shopping spree at Rainbow City Limit for James Dean pins and new stationery ~ Suzy's  Zoo with all the cute animals.

I find myself screaming out loud in Rhonda's old van ~ that she has generously let me borrow for two years ~ as I drive through the winding streets of Soquel and Capitola.

"Why, Mom, why?  Why did you have to leave us?" I wail like a wounded animal.

We need her back for this latest obstacle.  And I get so mad that the damn cigarettes claimed her life.

So I go from screaming and crying to misting up and smiling as the memories come flooding back to the good times of the 80s and early 90s exploring these quaint little towns.  The ocean is beautiful on these autumn days, and I spend my road trip blowing kisses to the sea where she now lives.  Her ashes scattered three miles out from her Beloved Boardwalk.

"Love you, Mom!"  I whisper out loud, blowing three kisses at a time.

Trying desperately to keep the spiritual connection alive in my heart and my soul ~ feeling her beside me in everything I do ~ a friend to rely on during every obstacle I face ~

And so, the memories of my mother's cancer journey are not what come to mind this time ~ no, it is of her alive and well and happy and full of energy and adventure and humor and hugs and kisses ~

"Miss You, Mom!"  I shout out at the next peek of the ocean as I continue my journey back Santa Cruz.  The sun is so bright it almost hurts my eyes.  I feel her warmth, her touch, her arms around me in my time of need.

I blow a kiss to the sea and the sun ~ 

Mist up and smile ~

And carry on ~