Some anniversaries are great and worth celebrating, but today is not one of them. As much as I love Halloween, influenced no doubt by my mom loving it so much, it is also the anniversary of the last day we had together. We had gone to doctors appointments in the afternoon then met my husband and daughter at the park with intricately carved jack o lanterns, and found our way to watching the Village parade.
In many ways I think after she saw the parade, she could say “I’ve seen it all.” That closure, along with my brother marrying a few weeks earlier, my sister in couples counseling, my grandmother getting consistent help and her boyfriend finally receiving the certificate of occupancy on his house, my mother tied up all of her loose ends.
Friday I was on the phone with my mom’s former employee who has taken over maintaining, albeit not the same way, my mother’s bead and jewelry store. The employee can no longer make ends meet and has to close the store, which is naturally sad, but no real surprise. It’s just a little bit more of my mom’s legacy disappearing. And while I was having this conversation, my mother’s boyfriend beeped in to tell me her dog had a serious tumor and was going to be euthanized, initially today, Halloween.
I was surprised by how affected I was with the news. I do not particularly care for the mutt who sheds and barks incessantly, but I did at one point. And my mother certainly did. She would walk around with pictures of that dog in her wallet – pre-iPhone – and not have any of her kids. She’d ooh and ahh over that pooch as if she were a person. But like the bead store, this little mutt was such a big part of my mom’s life.
Thanks to a recent rally, the dog is spared at least another few days, perhaps giving me a chance to say good bye in person.
I try to hold on to the good memories, but I’m entitled to have rough days and this just happens to be one of them.