“I miss my mom,” I moaned.
“When did she pass?” he said.
“They passed the equator on Tuesday. They won’t be back from their cruise for three more weeks.”
I’m 50 and I want my mommy. I’m not having any type of life crisis. I’m just spoiled by her and my dad’s accessibility. If I want to just chit-chat, I call mom. If I need information, I email dad. Anytime, I want. They’re both very accessible for life matters, great and small. Five weeks will be the longest I’ve ever gone without communicating with them. I feel like an orphan wearing grown up clothes.
Sadly, my mind can’t help but wander to when they go permanently off the grid. When they board their final Royal Caribbean to that last unexplored destination, I will probably implode. I love parental guidance…even at my age.
Mom is 77. Dad is 75. I’ve been killing them off in my head for years. Not in a violent way but in a loving daughter way. I’d want to facilitate their funerals perfectly. I’d want these ritualistic tributes to be executed flawlessly and personally. Although my dad’s special request of freshly baked cookies is doable, the Blue Angels flyover is probably not in the budget.
In the movie, “Best Friends”, Goldie Hawn and Burt Reynolds play lovers and screenwriters. Goldie has this great monologue about her parents dying. She talks about how she kills them off in her head. She lets herself get very sad. Then, she pictures what she’d wear to the funeral and what she’d say at the funeral. Burt questions this morbid practice. And with her signature perkiness, she proclaims, “that’s how much I love them.”
I’ve been blessed to have *two* parents my entire life. I know many friends missing one or both. I feel completely self-absorbed to complain about their 5 week cruise absence. And of course, I’m glad they are in warm weather and out of this cold crap. Still, I wish they were here or at least sprung for a better internet service in their cabin.