My December to Remember 3: Day Twenty-Eight
News: Gypsy Rose Blanchard released from prison.
Google, Meta, other tech companies reportedly slashed DEI jobs in 2023.
ID home where four college students were killed is razed.
Trump back on the ballot in Colorado.
One of my favorite Cat Stevens lines is from his song “Sitting.” He says, “Life is like a maze of doors and they all open from the side you’re on.” It really resonated with me. Because it’s true that sometimes there are doors we walk through in life that close behind us. Whether they’re under lock and key remains to be seen, but you can only pass through one way. I’m not sure we’re always cognizant of the fact of exactly when that door closes, but then you’re through, and you’re in a whole new life. I felt this a lot in my life, and for now, I can finally say I’m in a good place with what’s been closed off behind me.
My trip back from Italy was strange. It’s like I knew what was happening without being able to put it into words. It was the day after the Hamas attack in Israel, and the entire world felt tense. I don’t even remember the flight from Genoa to Rome, or how long my layover was, or anything else going on. I was just tired. I was homesick. I wanted nothing more than to go home and see my folks that upcoming Tuesday.
When I finally nestled into my seat to go home to JFK, the headphone jack was destroyed. WiFi was purchased per data, and it was barely enough to watch an hour-long YouTube video. And I was seated next to a newly-married Italian couple who were quite literally draped upon one another, looking at photos of the expensive party they just threw. I’m not ashamed to say I put my coat over my head and silently cried underneath, disheartened that no one wanted that feeling with me, knowing the one I wished for had officially chosen another, even as I was being pursued like that ceremony didn’t happen.
Plus, the language barrier was too much for me to tell them to be careful on their New York City honeymoon.
Through all this, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my mom was leaving us. I even wrote that exact thing down the day before. I have the note. I knew she was going and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. She was closing the final door on her life as I was out living mine, trying not to feel guilty that I wasn’t there to see her.
I called my dad the moment I landed and his phone went to voicemail. I left him a message, giving one long pregnant pause before saying goodbye that in hindsight was as somber as it could get. I got my suitcase, finding my luggage tag was ripped off, which bummed me out because I had just found my Official USA Fencing tag in my parents’ house.
I got in my Uber and called my dad again. I knew something was wrong from the moment he answered.
“Mom’s gone,” he told me.
I didn’t want to believe it. I just kept saying “no” over and over again. That closed-door feeling was back, and I was in an entirely new part of my life. And all of it was made worse by the fact that an hour-long trip home from the airport turned into two-and-a-half hours because of those scum sucking sh*thead c*cksucking *ssholes from Open Streets NY deciding to close down Columbus and Fifth Avenues for no f*cking reason.
Phew, okay, I’ve gotten that out of my system, let me just quietly exit away from the land of the filthy mouth.
It was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I harbored guilt for being on vacation while it was happening, being on the plane home when she went. But we’re all going to have a time like that, when we step out of this plane of existence and walk onto the next one.
I know Ma is in a better place right now, one where there’s no pain left. I just wish I had cleaned up the place better before she left.
We did all we could. All of it falls into place one way or another. When you feel that moment of no return to what you once knew, it’s like a whole new case gets put on you. It could be bad or good in that moment. The point is to keep going forward. Discover the ways to keep living, even as the door slamming sounds reverberate through your mind.
I miss my mom every single day and know one day I’ll come to the same door she did, knowing all who’ve passed on will be on the other side. The final turn of the knob. I’ve got time. And a lot more entryways to set my sights on.
