Vapor
by Ruth Ann Harnisch on 07/17/10 at 8:09 am
Day 195
I am mourning.
My mother died, and it is as if a bubble burst and the tiniest particles are visible for a moment, then gone. That’s how I’m experiencing the vanishing history of me. Driving around the old neighborhoods is surreal – the places and the people are dramatically aged or gone forever.
The links to what was, to who I was and how I became who I am, are evaporating like the morning dew.
And now we begin the sad sad process of dismantling the elements of what constituted a family homeplace, even though none of the four siblings lived in our mother’s last house.
There will be no more “home” to go to, no anchoring spot for our little family. The furniture from the 1940s that our parents bought as newlyweds is still in use here. There are three bedrooms in this house, and the beds are the ones we slept on as children. None of us will be taking this furniture. Poof! Another part of our family history will disappear.
This isn’t the first time I’ve had this experience. When my husband’s mother died, we closed the home that had been the gathering place for siblings, children, grandchildren, cousins, friends. No matter how much the survivors may try to recreate a sense of a family homeplace, there’s something irreplaceable when the mother and father are no longer living and the house is sold.
It feels as if all the tears I never cried when I left home, when I moved away so young and so frightened, are coming now. That girl is gone, and her past is vapor.
5 Comments
Kokoe
Jul 17th, 2010
That girl was gone a long time ago, when an amazing and remarkable woman metamorphized and then continued to evolve. The memories of that girl are leaving now, but that girl graduated long ago.
And it’s never too late for tears.
all my love <3
Mike Rausch
Jul 17th, 2010
Ruth Ann — My deepest condolences. Your eloquent words bring shared comfort. My father died a few weeks ago. I spoke at his service, as a tribute to him and reward to myself for having been given so much by this wonderful man. You didn’t know him, but would have enjoyed the stories I told and memories brought to life. I began it by saying, “Most of what I am about to say is true.” Thank you for sharing your thoughts on the consequences of loss.
Julie
Jul 19th, 2010
I imagine there few words that might bring comfort to you now. The only ones that come to my mind are prayers for you and your family. Prayers for strength and peace and nearby friends to be with you as you need them. I’m praying that for you today.
Paula Farrington
Jul 26th, 2010
My very deepest condolences. I didn’t know your mother, but I know a little something about the wonderful gift she birthed in bringing you into the world—and I will always be grateful for that.
Sending heartfelt thoughts, wishes for comforting memories, and e-hugs,
Paula
Vikki Brock
Jul 28th, 2010
As I read your words about the family gathering place that your mother and Bill’s mother created I am struck by the thought that the two of you may have been bequeathed the honor of carrying on this tradition and safe haven for your families.
While there is great loss, there may also be gratitude for the fact that you had here as long as you did. Though she is physically gone, as long as she is in your heart and memories she will never truly be gone. May I even be so bold as to say she continues to live through you.
Sending you and your family hugs and lightness.
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