This week was mostly focused on trying to pack away some of my mother’s things. It’s been over a year, but everything was left just as it was the day she fell. She was disorganized and accumulated far too many things, but none of that ever mattered.
Here’s what I read at her unveiling:
If you were here, you would have told Dad to relax. You would have told me to take better care of my nails. Then again, they wouldn’t be in this state. You would have made Dad change the plaid table cloth on the dining room table.
If you were here, you would have stayed up late watching history documentaries with Itai. You would have read stories to Tali.
If you were here, you would have been fascinated by the development of the vaccine and kept far better track of COVID stats than the government.
If you were here, you would have been happy for any excuse to be with a group of your closest friends because that kind of entertaining appealed to you in a way that it never did for Dave or even me, but to watch you was a joy.
If you were here, you would have laughed louder, smiled bigger, talked more than the rest of us.
If you were here, you would have loved and hated the events and drama leading up to the last election. You would have researched impeachment daily. You would be counting down the minutes until NY State began a prosecution.
If you were here, you would have been overjoyed to see Biden as president and Harris as vice president
If you were here, you would have been hysterical during the war in Israel, but have been unbelievably proud that Issy was there fighting to defend the Jewish people
If you were here, you would have stayed up late listening to pages I wrote because you were always willing to listen to even rough drafts.
If you were here, you would have really complained about the cold weather today.
But you’re not here and I’m a year behind in my grief because it never had to be real for me until now. Before last April, I spoke to you every day, sometimes twice or more and we still always had more to say and I always, without fail, called when I walked the kids to school. But this year was a year without school and a year without trips to visit New York and a year without you.
I love you, Mom.