Driving down in darkness on the interstate towards my childhood home in Boston, I thought of my mom, now passed on nearly four years. I switched the selection on my radio to a track of some of the Greek Music she used to listen to in the house. I recall that she would often shed a tear while she went about her household chores and listened to some of these folk songs. These were songs older then she or her parents could remember, and I would often ask her in those moments, as a small child, Mom, why are you crying? And she would always say to me, It brings back memories of the times I had of church picnics and of family dances that we, my mom and dad and sisters and I would attend I had been avoiding that folder on my music for some time and decided, at the moment, in the darkness on the highway with my thoughts and memories suddenly sparked, to play it. It wasnt more than a minute later that I found myself in a pool of tears myself as my own memories flooded back to me of the same sorts of family events I had shared with her growing up. It became enough that I had to pull off to the breakdown lane in suburban Andover to gain a clear enough head and to clear my vision to drive. I never expected to have such an emotional outburst as I had in that moment but I understood in an instant now what she felt as I sat alone in the darkness in the breakdown lane on that long 100 mile highway. I regained myself to some degree and changed the music to drive the remaining miles down to my old home and to stay with my dad for a few days and keep him company. Finding strength to be there for him, seeing so many memories in the old house that bring constant flashbacks to my mind of another time. Its so very hard sometimes with the flood of female hormones I feel, but I relish each and every moment and every tear shed because they are my own and they are me and in that moment she is, through my tears, still very much with me and alive.
Posted on: Thu, 23 Oct 2014 14:43:37 +0000
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