The Kiss

 

It has been 75 days.

When I went to bed at night I would cry, every night.  My Mom would begin the process of "bedtime" at least 30 minutes before I actually had to go to my room.  She would give me the countdown.

"Next commercial break"  "Ten more minutes"  "Go get your last drink of water"

Some nights she would begin to doze and I would squeeze another 10 minutes until the dreaded bed time.

Then began the process.  We would go to my room, which was only 12 feet from the living room in all actuality, but it was miles in my little girl heart.  Mom would pull down the covers, tuck me in, give me all of my comfort things and then I would cry.  The more she tried to make me comfortable with the thought of sleeping, alone, the harder I would cry.  If she would just say go to bed, it would have been easier.

We would say my prayers together, Our Father, Hail Mary and then all of the God Bless's.

The God Blesses were my definite way to get her to stay an extra minute or two.  God bless Mom and Dad, brothers, grandparents, Aunts Uncles, Cousins, friends, teachers, pets.

The last part was always the same.  

"Most of all God Bless Suzie, Watch over me, keep me safe and help me to be a good girl.  Good night God I Love You."

That's when I knew it was over.  I would be a mess. 

One more minute, one more kiss, one more hug.  Don't close the door all the way, Kiss me when Im sleeping.

Then she would slip out.  The same beautiful smile as she would wake me with in the morning.

Some nights my Dad would yell "You better stop that crying or Ill give you something to cry about!"

I would lay there in my pink room, and listen to the muffled laughter of my Mom and Dad with the TV on.  Mom usually made Dad a snack before bed, a fried egg sandwich, or fried baloney.. I could smell it and hear it from my room.  I would cry even harder.  

I'm missing it, they're laughing and having fun without me.  

Sometimes I would slip out of my bed and sit in the hallway tucked tight against the wall so I could hear the TV and their conversations.  

"Suzzzzzie? Suzzzzzie! You better be in that bed"  My Dads stern voice.

I'd scramble back to bed and cover up.  

There was a shift in the routine when I got a transistor radio.  It hung on my bedpost and at bedtime Mom would turn it on and it seemed to comfort me to sleep.  She would sneak back in and turn it off.

I wasn't asleep but I remember feeling as if I didn't want to disappoint her and still be awake, so I would pretend to be asleep.  I would pretend to be alright.  

She would kiss my head some nights after turning off my radio.  Some nights I could hold back my crying until she left the room, some nights I would burst into tears at the thought of her leaving me again.

For another night.  

Why did I cry and feel such desperation every night?  What was I afraid of? What did I think would happen?

 I was afraid I would wake up and she would be gone.  Or I would be forgotten, unloved.

My biggest fears were that I would wake up and things would be different somehow, I wouldn't have the same Mother or family and they wouldn't love me the same or as much anymore.

Somehow I grew out of that crying every night thing.  Good thing because my Dad was just about to send me packing if it didn't end soon.  

Here I am 75 days.  I have cried 

EVERY SINGLE NIGHT.  

The tortured soul of a young child weeping into my husbands armpit.  Some nights its bearable, just a few tears that remind me.

Other nights, I am wracked with the realization, shes not here.  

My Mom is gone.

The hard nights, I slobber and cry and blabber on to Andy.  It almost always comes back to.

"What do I do now?"   "I don't know what to do now?"

Why is it all about me? I am not the only one to lose a Mother, people seem to be alright.  i am not alright.

She IS GONE, The one person that ALWAYS LOVED ME is no more.  

When a mother tells their child I have loved you every moment of your life, we mean it.  But the love a child has for their Mother is under rated.  

The last time I saw my Mom I was saying goodbye in the funeral home. She looked pretty in her pink dress.  He hair was surprisingly perfectly done.  Weird right?

I kissed her forehead.  When I was pulling back I realized my lipstick left a light kiss mark.  I went back and kissed her again being sure to leave an evident kiss on her forehead.  As I walked away with my husband and son I looked back and saw her.

Sleeping, soundly, peacefully with a forever kiss from the one that loved her most.