Sunday, September 26, 2010

The One with the Brownie

Not a funny post, sorry.
You can skip it; I won't be offended.

I've been missing my mom this week.
No particular reason.

Probably started because I was wearing her cardigan last weekend when the temperature dipped.
And then this afternoon I was poking through some old Facebook pics my sister had posted months ago, and there were pictures of Mom and Dad lurking in there.
Crap.  That was really hard.  And unexpected.  And really hard.

Tonight at a church function, I was choosing a refreshment.  There were cookies, slices of pie.  Several brownies looked tempting, but only one of them looked "right".  So, I picked that one for myself.

I looked at it closer and marveled at how the frosting was perfect and how I'd never been able to get my brownie frosting like that.  Mom always could.
And that's when it hit me.
I picked that brownie because it was just like Mom used to make.

I cried all over it.

You just never know what stupid thing will set you off.

I'll post something funny tomorrow.
Promise.
Sleep well.

12 comments:

Thumper said...

Amazing the things that grab us... It's sweet, really.

Mell said...

I will never understand the workings of the human brain. About 6 months after I lost my mom, I was driving home, a song came on the radio and I just lost it. It wasn't a sad song...it wasn't even a song I associated with my mother. It just made me think of her and I sat on the side of the interstate and bawled my eyes out. But I promise...it does get better. Hugs to you, Roses.

Dani said...

Awwww Roses, big hug. Big big hug from me.

The Gray Monk said...

It does get easier, but even 11 years on I still miss my mom and my grandparents after 34 years. But the best advice I have ever had on grieving was "If you want to see their legacy - look in a mirror, look at your siblings and look at your kids..."

Andy said...

I know what Monk means. I have not lost a parent, but I was very close to my grandparents (both sets).

Sometimes I just tear up thinking about something they said, or did. And, they've been gone a long, long time.

I know you miss your Mom, Roses. That is a fine tribute to her.

Anonymous said...

Without tears would laughter be as sweet!
Without pain - would absent of such be as near?
It gets better slowly - missing daughter-
lost old friends- empty places at the table-
pain that does repeat .
Sorry for your pain.
kay lee kelly

Pizza Girl said...

*hug*
I was driving down the street and saw someone walking a basset hound and it reminded me of Alex (my childhood dog that had to be put down a few years ago) and I just started crying right there. Then my dad pulled out his keys and he still has her tags there with the rest of his keychains and I cried.

Not that that's anything like losing a mother, but I feel like in some ways Alex thought of me like her puppy.

Kris, in New England said...

I came here thru Boudicca's Voice. And I had to comment.

My dad died 15 years ago and even after all this time, there are times when I miss him so much that I think I'll stop breathing.

He was a motorhead in a major way. If I hear the distinct throaty burble of a classic V8 dual exhaust Mustang - it will guarantee that I'll cry. Which is odd to people who don't know.

And as painful as it is, even 15 years later, I am so grateful that there are things that still remind me of him. He remains in my heart and I can recall him any time I want.

That's the power of beautiful memories. Hugs to you; someday you'll eat the perfect brownie and while it will make you sad, you'll also be comforted by the fact that...

you remember.

Roses said...

Wow, you guys.
Really.

I was going to pull this post down Monday morning, but I'm glad I left it up.

Thank you so much for your kind comments.

brandi said...

an old cardigan. How sweet a thing to keep. Imagine a hug every time you have it on. How lucky you have such a physical thing to comfort you.
For years when I had a car I drove around one of the lakes here around the first of October. That's the time of year my dad died. And he and I both loved fall. I celebrated fall, and the lovely day he gave us to bury him (in Wisconsin) was fall in all it's glory. Lovely oak and maple leaves fell on his casket. A lovely salute to a lovely man.
I will think about your mom's cardigan, now, too.
You made me remember that that time in fall is almost here. Smile at the Wisconsin fall leaves for me?

Miss Em said...

I kept my Mom's favorite afghan and one of her crocheted blankets after she passed away...7 years ago.
Now when I want to feel her love I take one of them and curl up on the couch and think of her. Soon it feels as if she is giving me hugs.

Hope you feel the same when you wear that cardigan? AND, don't forget to smile when you want to cry because that's when you remember how Much she truly loved you.
Besides, crying is so depressing along with giving you a stuffy sinuses, a snotty nose and two blood-shot swollen eyes...AND...NO ONE looks good with those...at least that's what my Mom use to tell me. ;~}

Miss Em

Priscilla said...

Take a deep breath dear one. It's quite all right to mourn your mom. You will for some time yet. I will do the same when my mum goes.

And my boys better when I go or I'll haunt their a**.