Pictures from my mother

My sister called me Saturday to tell me that my mother, who is now 86, has been moved to the terminal wing of the hospital. Today, a greeting card box full of pictures arrived in the mail. The earliest pictures were taken shortly after my birth in 1956 and the latest were taken shortly after my daughter was born in 1986.

I last spoke with my mother in August, 1988. Since then, she has declined all my efforts to see her or speak with her. That hurt more than I can begin to express in words.

I hope she gets better and lives happily until she is 92, as did her mother. If she doesn't, I hope her passing will be peaceful.

I wish I could say I will miss her ... but I've already missed having a mother for over 20 years, now.

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel at this point. I just don't know.

Existential Angst

Again, I find my inner jukebox playing:

Where do we go from here, now that all of the children have grown up?*

It has nothing to do with playing games, this song running through my mind. It has to do with my wondering just what I should be doing with my life right now.

For decades, my predominant focus has been on my children, although admittedly, I've had other foci, as well. But no matter whether I was focused on work or my weight/health, or my marriage or my spirituality, the underlying driving force in my life was my love for my children and doing all I could to ensure their health, their happiness, their education, and their safety ... in the present and in the future.

They are 25 and 23 now. They have long since taken control of their own health, their own happiness, education and safety. It's time for me to figure out the rest of my mission on this planet!

And then, again, maybe it is simply to live a long, happy, prosperous, and beautiful life surrounded by people I love and who love me.

Maybe, that's all that's required of me.

Maybe.

* Games People Play by the Alan Parsons Project