Jewish World Review March 31, 2006/ 2 Nissan,
Gone With the Wind
I didn't spend enough time with her. Why didn't I ask her
more about our family
history when I had the chance and she was able to remember more?
Why didn't I take her out
more, when she still enjoyed going out? Why didn't I hug and kiss
her more? Could I have done
more for her? I never thought so while she was alive, but now I
think maybe I could have.
Yes, I'm sure I could have done more for her throughout the years.
I loved her and she knew it, but during my young and
middle adult years I was so busy
with my own life that I too often put her on the back burner.
She'll always be there, I must
have felt. I forgot to call today, but that's no problem because I
can always call her
tomorrow. No more tomorrows now. We never know for sure that there
will be a tomorrow for any
of us. Why didn't I see that then?
There's nothing unique about what I'm feeling now. I
know that. Most people will go
through this loss in their lives and feel just as broken up as I
do. But somehow it is little
consolation to me. I can sympathize and empathize with others who
have lost their mother and
father, but the pain of losing your own is something that no one can
really share totally with
you - not to the same degree.
My father died in 1973 and I miss him and think of
him every day. The hole in the pit
of my stomach that I felt 32 years ago is gone but the hole in my
heart, the hole in my life
has never been filled. And now my mother has died and I am left
with another emptiness. No
one can take her place. No one can ever take the place of anyone
else. I love my wife; I love
my sister and brother; but their love does not fill the voids - it
helps comfort me a great
deal and I thank G-d I have them, but the loss of Mom and Dad will
always be there.
It's hard to believe that she is gone. I still get the
feeling that I want to give her
a call. In recent years I tried to call her every day, usually
between 4:00 and 4:30 in the
afternoon. Even now, when it gets to that time of day, I think,
just for a split second, "I've
got to call Mom." She didn't have a lot to say in the past year or
so, but I miss those calls
just the same.
My mother loved words of wisdom; she would quote proverbs and
sayings all the time.
Many famous axioms that I know, I first heard from her. "A stitch
in time saves nine" was one
of her favorites. She loved the expression, "Home Sweet Home" so
much that she collected signs
with that phrase. She believed in her expressions and, although I
never realized it until now,
she lived by them.
When we were kids she used to recite, "You lose a friend,
you'll find another, but
there'll never be a friend like your own dear mother."
There was another phrase she would say from time to time.
She would say, usually when
someone famous died, "well, he's gone with the wind."
In my religion we believe that although our bodies wear out
and die, our souls are with
G-d. It is comforting to believe that at some point in time, we
will be united once again with
our loved ones in a better place. I'd like to think that in some
way I will see my mother and
father again, healthy and happy and together.
So, although right now she is out of my mortal life and I
will never be able to touch or
see her on earth again, it helps to believe that in the big picture,
my mother is not "gone
with the wind" at all. In the future we all will meet again in
heaven and I will have all the
time I need to spend with her. G-d willing.
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JWR contributor Greg Crosby, former creative head for Walt Disney publications, has written thousands of comics, hundreds of children's books, dozens of essays, and a
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