… hating you because you wouldn’t let me continue studying and made me stop when I finished high school. Your god, my father and thus my god, started working after high school too and he ended his career as a manager. If he could I also could was your motto but you forgot the 1930’s were easier than the 1980’s. Yes, I made it too, became a manager, although at that time you weren’t around anymore.
… hating you for your black and white vision on so many topics.
… those 4 or 5 years I fought to make you aware that your daughter was still your daughter and that she had the right to be happy too, even if it was with a woman.
… how one day you finally accepted my sister’s girlfriend and how I was erased from your life after that. For a few years that is.
… being invited at my sister’s marriage with her 20 year younger girlfriend. You were missed very much.
… that for one reason or another you were not capable of loving your two kids at the same time. It was me and not my sister and then, for one reason or another, it was my sis and not me.
… how you felt so sad for me because you knew, even before I did, how unhappy I was in my marriage
… that one special evening very well when you told me, almost in tears, how you were willing to support me financially so I could file for divorce.
… that phone call telling me you had stumbled over nothing in our main street. I was there in a jiffy. You had broken your knee and was taken to the hospital. Little did I know it was the start of the end for you. That it would be a painful year and a half.
… those evenings in the hospital and later in your apartment and then back in the hospital. We talked and talked and today I have no memory about what we discussed.
… my sister and I, holding each other, crying. She wanted to see you a last time. I didn’t. I wanted to remember you as when you were alive.
… how my sister and I laughed as freaking idiots when the undertaker showed us a few urns. That hilarious scene in the movie Meet The Parents sprung to mind, the cat peeing in his mother’s ashes.
… how one year later my sister and her wife and I held a ceremony and dispersed your ashes. I had started my divorce by then.
It would have been your birthday tomorrow, February 22nd, and you would have been far in your 90’s by now.
I imagine you as that grand Old London Lady my grandma was with abundant silver hair and so much wisdom.
You left me 9 years ago and I must admit, I didn’t miss you as much as I did my father who passed away in 1972.
But now that I am growing older this is changing and I miss you more and more.
I am so sad you will never know how I finally found absolute happiness. You would have loved and adored Princess as she has made your boy so incredibly happy. She would have liked you very much, I think.
Happy birthday, Mommy dear, wherever you are.
I would like to thank you for the uttermost valuable gift you have ever given me.
It is called LIFE and it finally led me to Princess.