Memoirs of a Soon-to-Be Former Fat Guy

It’s July 8. My least favorite day on the calendar.

No, it’s not because it’s apparently “National Chocolate with Almonds Day” (I can’t make this crap up… somebody obviously does, though)

July 8, 2014 was a terrible day. The 7th wasn’t much better, but the 8th was the day that the world got a lot darker.

That’s the day we lost mom.

I’ve been through the complete gamut of emotions in the last 365 days. I’ve been very happy, I’ve been horribly sad. I’ve been morose. I’ve been giddy. I’ve been what has become my new normal… reflective and withdrawn.

As badly as it hurt last year, it’s still pretty bad, even worse in some ways. I catch myself tearing up and random moments, not exactly sure why, until I realize that something was subconsciously reminding me of mom.

I still think about calling her every day to let her know how things are going; to complain about work; ask if I can do anything for her.

It’s so easy to assume that since a year passed, well, everything should be simply hunky-dory. It ain’t. We go on.

Ten years ago, at our wedding, I had to come up with the right song for the dance with my mom. I chose Jim Brickman’s “A Mother’s Day” because it had the almost perfect lyrics. Some might deserve repeating here:

Have I ever thanked you
For everything you’ve done?
Now all that I can say is
“I love you, Mom”

Thank you for nursin’ me
Through all those colds and fevers
Thank you for believin’ in me
When they were no other believers

And it’s never too late to say
“I love you, Mom”

It might just be another day to a lot of folks, but July 8 will always have meaning as the day an extraordinary woman passed from this life to the next.

Miss you.