After my workshop, we took a quick walk through a local cemetery. Then we came home and I cleaned the kitchen (the living room/ hallway are still ratholes, but I’m probably done for the day). Then we colored Easter eggs.
We don’t really celebrate Easter in the spiritual sense. My mom died right around Easter (and her 45th birthday). But for the kids we do Easter baskets, and this year we’re going over Mom’s for dinner.
I’m a year away from her age when she died. Wow, I can’t believe how much time has passed. I haven’t been to visit my mother in many, many years.
At first I told people I was dealing with it by not dealing with it. Then I said I was angry with her. Now it’s just that I don’t make the time…I think.
Going back to Massachusetts is a little bit haunted for me, though, like I think it is for my younger brother. We do visit my dad and stepmom, of course, in Salem. And sometimes we’ve gone down to see my Aunt Eileen and her family. But I don’t really return to Swampscott or Nahant.
We did walk the beach one time with Dad and Mimi when Desmond was a baby, but it felt weird. I used to walk sometimes with my mother, but she couldn’t keep up with me (no physical health problems on her part, I was just in much better shape than I am now), or she would run me off the sidewalk. You know how some people do that without meaning to? Aislyn does it to me now.
We had such a complicated relationship. But I miss her. I must. Or why would I dream about her so often, being alive?
It’s funny, I tend to have the same dream, where she lives in an apartment in Salem or Swampscott, and Paul (my brother) knows her number, but I don’t, and when he gives it to me, I’m incapable of dialing correctly.
This has not turned out to be about bunnies.