When I see a picture like this one - of her in the moment, appreciably devoid of pretense in any physical way - my power to recall her in both flesh and spirit ticks up a thousand fold.
The photo conjures lots of memories. For instance, I still have the red Coleman cooler being used as a picnic surface by my mother, as well as the L.L. Bean canvas carryall pictured in the foreground. I remember the wavy design of the waxy paper cup from the stack in the kitchen cabinet by the sink. But when I look closely, I notice the things that I always noticed about my mother's appearance while living with her and seeing her every day. My eyes go to her long, rounded finger nails, almost never covered with polish (she preferred to buff them). I see the age spots covering her hands and face. I notice right away her canine tooth with a bit of a twist to it, just the way the identical tooth in my mouth sits.
While my mother died at an age most would consider young, she had plowed through most of the hard stuff of parenting. And though she died before meeting my husband or children, she took with her something that I didn't realize had gone missing at first. She was the family glue. As much as I thought that perhaps I could be the glue after her death, I was wrong. Siblings share a lot when they live under the same roof, but feathering a new nest quickly takes priority in the world of grown-ups. Of course, that's not to say that some families can't remain close after a matriarch passes.
In my case, I know that if she were still alive I would benefit emotionally on many levels. Her home would surely provide the holiday headquarters missing from my own holidays. And I have a feeling, though I can't be sure, that my siblings and I would easily reprise our dynamic family roles whenever we got together under her roof. Always the cockeyed optimist, I have spent much of my life dreaming of taking a grand vacation with my brothers, perhaps cruising to some balmy destination with their families. When I watch a movie (even a zany one like Wedding Crashers), I extract dangerous ideas like playing touch football with my entire family during our next Thanksgiving together.
Maybe now is a good time to admit that these things will never come to pass. If I want this kind of closeness in my future, it has to begin with me: a new generation of glue, to keep my children focused on the real prize and richness of life. A future that centers around family, in good times and in bad. There is great stuff here under my roof providing daily incentive to keep this ensemble going strong as long as I'm alive: loads of laughter, amazing stories, tears and triumphs, great food, friendship and always... unconditional love.
