Present Tense

Past Tense

I was thinking of posting some old material I have written over the years and then I thought in order to make a lot of my pieces work I would need to go Back to put them in Past Tense. Somehow that sounds so weird to me. I have to go back to go back, redundant. But that is my current situation. I wrote so much about my mom and I am not ready to put her or my writings about her in the past tense.

Last night was my first time at Friday Night Services to say Yiskor, a prayer for the recently deceased. Because of some other special celebrations for four young female congregants (my age group) it was a packed house. I am guessing the typical Friday Night Services do not draw such a large crowd. But last night, I was thankful for the distraction and conversation afterwards in the Oneg. Next week, I will probably go home right afterwards. Being in the Temple on a Friday Night helps me keep my mom alive for me. Her passing has not really sunk in yet. Even with the Funeral, the condolence cards, the left over food in the Fridge from the Shiva, the empty time. No. I even resorted to magical thinking as I sat silently beseeching my mother’s eternal soul to bring her back whole to me during the all the chanting. I turned to see if she would walk in ready for Services, the round lacy black head net she always wore secured to her heavily sprayed hair. Walking? My mother stopped walking so long ago. For the last several years she was confined to a wheel chair. Why did I think upon her return, she would be upright once more? Maybe that is all part of the fantasy.

As I prayed for her return I knew I was being ridiculous but I couldn’t help myself. I still prayed. And when my prayers were not answered at least I was able to be around friendly people after the services so I could talk about my mother and try to “feel” her presence in all her absence. I even laughed and joked in the Dining Hall during the Oneg. It seemed a strange thing to do after feeling so sad inside the sanctuary. But I am not ready to let go of my mother and her humor and the bright light she brought to the world with her fun personality. Even when I write about her now, I sometimes find the humor is impossible to suppress. I guess that is one more gift she is continuing to give me in the sea of sorrow I am floating in, an occasional smile and laugh as the waves carry me further and further from her once warm body. So if you happen to be reading things and it seems as if my mother is still alive because I am trapped in the Present Tense of my past writings, don’t be fooled like I was into thinking I could magically make her re-appear. The words floating in the air between my finger tips and your eyes are as invisible and fleeting as my Becky.

I miss her, present tense.