Ok, not as bad as that, but I left my computer at my Mom’s apartment.
Mom died last week and my brother Dave and I were there today trying to get it together enough to move out by the end of the month. We had planned for the computer to be the repository for an organized (photographic) listing of what was inside each box we wrapped up. I’ve had occasional spells of this kind of organization, but they tend to wear off pretty rapidly.
Wrapping up boxes, I must say, is going rather slowly. I am always hoping to find a gem, something I did not know about my parents or something I forgot about myself. That is going pretty well. My brother found a love letter from my mother to my father. It was a part of my mother that I had never seen so overtly expressed. Dave asked me if I thought she wrote it before they had kids. I told him there was no doubt in my mind that it was before then. Our parent’s first child was my older brother Michael. Mike is the reason I started this blog in the first place: to express my feelings and thoughts about being a sibling of an autistic individual. He is profoundly retarded (the name of the diagnosis at that time- the 1950s), nonverbal and autistic. Recall that at that time, parents (primarily the mother) were said to be the reason that the child was autistic. In fact they called mothers of autistic children, “refrigerator mothers“. There was no way that my mother could have been in a state of mind to write a love letter with Mike around.
I loved seeing that part of my mother. It makes me appreciate that she and Dad must have had a really good time before we children came along. I wish I knew them then.
Just before she died, Mom told me that she didn’t appreciate Dad enough and that she regretted that. Those were very tough times and I don’t know if anyone could have come though that situation unscathed.
…
Tomorrow I hope to have my own computer back and to write on more familiar technology. Mom, your iPad is great, but I’m jus not used to it.
Cherish those memories…
I will. Thanks for your comment. (Just saw this… sorry for the delay in responding)
j
😊
This is really interesting, thank you for sharing. It is compelling to consider the different stages of our lives and the lives of the people around us, how we are different people depending on what is happening to us and what has occurred in our immediate recent existence. It must be good for you to be able to see evidence of these times like a window into another dimension.
Thank you, Miranda. Yes, different stages of our lives happen whether we like it or not. In my view the best choice is to adapt and learn what one can learn from this ‘identity shift’. One ends up ‘being’ in a different way than before. With any luck (and probably a lot of work) it can be better. If not better, at least interesting.
Thanks for your comment!
best,
Jack
This is so moving. My deepest sympathies. When going through my parent’s personal effects, I had the crushing desire to ask my mother or father about them. Thirteen years later, I still do.
Thank you, Jann. The impulse to ask is like a reflex. I imagine it is like a psychic phantom limb. Tough thing to overcome.
Glad you commented.
best,
Jack
They say your parent is always with you, within you. Before one dies, it’s a hard sensation to comprehend; after, its reality becomes embedded in your being. A form of comfort, I suppose. I hope it’s that way for you. Treasure your mom’s iPad, her gift to you.
They say your parent is always with you, within you. Before one dies, it’s a hard sensation to comprehend; after, its reality becomes embedded in your being. A form of comfort, I suppose. I hope it’s that way for you. Treasure your mom’s iPad, her gift to
you.
My deepest condolences. Thank you for your post.
Thank you so much for your condolences. I appreciate that very much.
J