I think I was about 6 or 7 years old when it really hit me that my mother was dead. and I mean, really hit me. and I'm not sure if I just happened to go thru a lapse of time and forgot about it or something and at this time in this specific memory I'm not even sure how long it had been since she had passed away... but to continue:

I was home, it was late at night- my brother was probably either already asleep or doing something in his room and I was in the living room with my father. at this time in my childhood- I'm just a little kid- I found it rather entertaining to pull apart the couch and play hide and seek in the cushions and so forth. I wish now I could find that readily accessible happiness like I did then. my father was playing the piano- a certain song he used to play all the time. as I was crawling thru the cushions I remember randomly asking what time mom was going to be home.

"what are you talking about?"
"I mean," as my face is peaking out from beneath a mountain of cushions on the floor, " what time is mom gonna be home from work or whatever."
"she isn't coming home."
"what? why??"
"she's dead," as he continued to play along to the keys, "you know that."

and this last sentence hit me harder than driving 180MPH on a motorcycle wearing nothing but your birthday suit against a cement wall. and even then the wall wouldn't give. not even a centimeter upon impact.

I sat where I was and stared blankly at my fathers back as he played. no reaction to what he had said. no reaction to why I had even asked that (must've been out of the blue, right?) something in the back of my mind was telling me I had already known this fact but had never ACTUALLY thought about what it meant to me.
she was never coming BACK from ANYWHERE.
and thinking back on it now, I must've somewhere along the lines got it into my head that she was just gone for the time being on a trip or something. maybe all my relatives telling me she was in heaven waiting for us or what not had literally crept into my subconscious and protected me from realizing heaven is no where and she is never coming back from it.

I began putting all the cushions back into place and all I remember is cramming my face as hard as I could into the seams and crying. as my father continued playing that one song that I swear if I heard it today would probably remind me of this exact memory I'm talking about right now. for what seemed like eternity of crying, I remember walking back to my room and just crying myself to sleep.

I believe that was my first memory of my mother. a warm comfortable feeling, as if she had never really left, but filled with such a sorrow I can't seem to escape it.

I remember just about a year ago I had brought this memory up with my father as we talked over a beer and he doesn't recall any of this happening- more or less it wasn't such a traumatic moment for him as it were for I. he did however inform me that upon hearing the first time (not this one) that my mother had passed away- my brother was the one who was emotionally distraught and crying and confused while I, on the other hand, was calm, taking care of my brother and assuring him that everything was fine and it would all be okay.

I don't remember any of this.

in fact, I don't seem to recall any memory BEFORE this memory. at least not to my knowledge.
sometimes I wonder how different life would be if that accident had never happened.
and sometimes I realize that without that accident, I wouldn't be where I am today.

and sometimes- I'm not sure if it's a good or a bad thing.
I miss you mom.
happy mothers day.
xxx