Ma

It has been a year since the day I sat here in my living room with ma beside me - but not really - and wrote It's Over. Hubby & I haven't talked about the anniversary thing - don't know if he's thought of it.... and it's not one I felt the need to celebrate....

Well - except that I did, rather. Not to celebrate, but to mark it somehow. To remember.

I have so much work I should be doing. But today I felt like writing about ma. And so I did.

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She was a stubborn woman. Independent - and determined as hell not to give that up one minute before she had to. She had made the decision - wisely - to give up driving some time before I met her. She would have decided, I think, that it was better to be the one to make the decision than to have someone else force it on her. And besides - a little loss of independence would probably seem worth it to her if it meant Ross would stick around.

She had 4 kids, ma did...and of course, like any mother, she loved them all. But R was the only boy and the youngest. He was special. (Still is, too, by the way). He did not see that he was her favourite, and thought the girls were being silly when they suggested that he was - but clearly, it was so. She always knew that when she needed taking care of it would be him that stepped up and did what needed doing. Turns out she was right too - but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Let me tell you about the first time I met ma. R & I had met online - communicated that way for awhile, and then finally met in person. It was during our first date that he - with no little embarrassment - told me that he lived with his mother. Not because he needed to, mind you! He had a place of his own, and would happily be living in it, but his dad had had a serious brain injury, and he had moved home toward the end of his life to help take care of him .... And by the time he'd died, it was apparent that something was wrong with ma. They hoped it was just the stress - but of course, it wasn't. So he had stayed.

Anyway, he was really very worried about how I would take the news that he was living with his mother.  Others he had met had not taken it well. Me, I thought it was cute that he was so worried about my reaction. And also that the fact that he was willing to do for both of his parents was telling. I didn't go home with him and meet ma that night - although I was invited - but that's beside the point. But eventually, of course, I did.

I was rather appalled at the thought of going home with him - you know - to spend the night. What would she think? I'm sure that had the roles been reversed - if it had been my mother - I would NOT have considered bringing some guy home to spend the night. Not that she would have said anything. But I would be embarrassed. I guess that's what happens when you go so long without a life. Anyway, R had no hesitation about it; she won't mind, etc. etc. So finally I got over it - sort of. I was so embarrassed at staying over that R told his mom that I was going to stay because the car lights weren't working right. She didn't much care - didn't seem to have any problem with it at all. And didn't question it, beyond asking what was wrong with the car and so on. Still - I was very conscious that she was downstairs and I was upstairs with him - well  ...you know.

In the morning, when I went downstairs to the washroom, she was already up.

"Uh...good morning,"

"Oh, good morning, dear. My goodness, you must be tired! Did you get any sleep at all? It sounded like he kept you up all night! Men!"

Oh my...! I was mortified. She, on the other hand, went on to ask what she could make me for breakfast and never mentioned it again. Thank God!