27

I was sitting here checking my email when i noticed one from a faithful friend of years ago. He always sends me a letter or note on the day my parents died, July 27th. I saw that he wrote me and actually wondered what he was writing about, and that is when the date hit me. You see, today is the 29th, and i forgot.

I feel a bit sick to my stomach right now remembering that I forgot about the day that changed my life. As i cry, it isn't because I am sad about the accident, or being left alone, but because I can't believe i really forgot. Most people when faced with crisis have this number of the day burned into thier minds. mine is 27. so whenever that number comes up anywhere, at any time i remember. i know my sister does, and probably my brothers and a lot of other family members. And me...for the most part.

As i look back on the 27th of this week, i was standing in my kitchen and cooking most of the day. I made quiche, wheat free cookies and carrot bread. I made two kinds of hummus, eggplant dip, and grape juice, not to mention coffee which was a given. I was listening to music and remembering how mom used to cook for us, making us goodies all day. I smiled, not realizing 14 years ago she took her last breath. She used to sing in the kitchen, and many of our talks took place there. i would sit on the counter and put my feet on the cupboard door beneath me until my dad would tell me to move my feet. He knew i would one day break it. A day spent in memories as i mixed the sugar with the eggs. I just remember feeling peace two days ago, and smiling a lot.

Ironically, i had dinner with my Uncle and Aunt the day before this. They were passing through and talked me into going to dinner with them. It was great BBQ, but the stories couldn't compare. I asked my uncle if he had ever punched anyone. He thought and then started laughing. He wasn't going to share, but Laura told him i would laugh and love the story. So he shared the story of a wedding night reception a long time ago. My parents were split up at the time, i might not have even been born. My mother was at a wedding reception with the rest of her family (brothers and sisters) and my dad came around drunk. He was making lude comments and so much so that my uncle punched him right in the face. My dad fell on the ground and one of my other uncles started beating him. This might not sound funny to you, but if you knew my uncle Gordon, or my uncle Stan, you would think this was hillarious. I did, and i still laugh thinking about it. My dad loved my mom, but he probably deserved that beating.

It is strange how so many memories pass on these days without even knowing the date. I was so concerned about missing my brothers 40th birthday, that i ...well....i guess i forgot. Is that ok? does that mean something? does that mean my love for my parents is fading or lost? I feel as though in some small way i have disrespected them, or the day of thier birth into the afterlife. I know i havent done any of that. I have not done anything wrong. But in one moment, my heart beats faster, my eyes swell up...is it hard to breath in here?

I do miss my parents. I was thinking the other day about how strange it would be to go to thier house and visit or have dinner. Or to take my friends or husband to meet them. To sit in my old room and crawl out onto the roof. watch the stars--wait for the falling ones. My mom was a bad cook and i never noticed. my dad smoked behind the barn and everyone pretended like we didn't know. my dad called my mom "legs" and kissed her while she pretended not to like it. She always had certs in her purse and lipstick on her coffee cups. ah yes...the faint smell of cheap avon perfume. dad drank iced tea and had potoes with every meal...everyday. Mom loved God way to much, and dad just wanted to be loved. Misdirected money, mowed yard, homemade clothes and comb over hair. My parents were the most interesting people i now know. None of this was known while they were alive.

It really isn't until something is gone that you notice the life that was in it. Until something is forgotten...and then remembered.