I'm sitting there minding my own business when WHAM, my mom pops into my head. And all of a sudden I am back. In an instance, I am transported to a different time. Never the same time but always there.
Sometimes I picture my mom when I was younger. I can see her hands. Her nails were so perfect. Her hands and fingers weren't misshapen from all the hard work she'd done.
Sometimes I am really little. Like the time when I was sick and called her at work to come home and she did. I don't know how much money it cost us or what she had to tell her boss but she came home for me.
Or when I'm a little older and I'm in high school and we're watching Murder She Wrote. Or The Young and the Restless. Or Unsolved Mysteries.
And then I am instantly transported to the night I spent in the hospital with her on the night of her stroke. Lying beside her bed, listening to her breathe, holding her hand, telling her that I was here and that we would get through this and she would be okay.
And then there are the times when I imagine. I let my mind free and I picture her here. Healthy. Alive. Enjoying life. Enjoying her grandson. Still in my life.
And then I'm back to reality and it feels like I've been hit by a bus. All over again.
Do you know what else? I can't hear her. That makes me beyond sad.
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