Category Archives: mom

Settling In

This Tuesday will be the third anniversary of Mom’s passing, and in some ways it’s felt like the hardest anniversary I’ve had to deal with so far. I’ve been thinking about the anniversary in the days leading up to it more than I have the others, and I’ve taken the day off work. (The first anniversary fell on a Sunday, so there weren’t any issues there, but the second was on a Monday when I did teach a class at eight in the morning, but…

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Watching As It Happened

Polar vortex death toll rises to 21 as US cold snap continues (BBC.com) I kind of get the old stereotype about older women who watch the Weather Channel non-stop, but I’ve always felt a little uncomfortable about it because, for much of her life, Mom was one of those women. After we first got cable television, news and information shows quickly became Mom’s go-to when there wasn’t anything else on; she kept the living room television tuned to either Headline News or the Weather Channel…

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Glass City-Eyed

Eight days from today will mark the first anniversary of my departure from Toledo. Very early that morning, before the sun was even close to rising, a friend¬† drove me from her house, where I’d been staying for a few months, to Detroit Metropolitan Airport. It wasn’t the first time I’d been to that airport — I’d gone there before with family members who were flying, and even to help pick up a traditional Japanese music ensemble that was hired to perform in the greater…

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Blah to the Future

I made sure that Mom was one of the first people to own an Amazon Echo when they first came out a few years ago. Her vision had been steadily deteriorating for a long time, and I knew that the convenience of her being able to play music by simple voice commands would be more than worth the purchase price by itself.¬† Being able to ask for things like weather forecasts and other basic information was a bonus, and the bits of personality that Amazon…

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Going On, Ongoing

Two years ago today, when Mom passed away, the world didn’t end. It just felt like it did to me. About eight and a half years earlier, on the day that my father died, I drove Mom home from the hospital. Neither of us cried after we got the news, probably because we knew that we had to be strong for each other at that moment. Mom broke later that afternoon when a Girl Scout, bringing the cookies that my father had ordered for us,…

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