Pictures

I came across a photo of my mom the other day while remodeling a 3rd bedroom. 

It was taken in 1968. It was near the end of her cancer journey.

I laugh at all the pictures I would take of her while she was sick with my Kodak Instamatic.

Remember those cameras?

I think somewhere deep inside I knew she was dying and I wanted pictures of her.
Some really unflattering photos. I didn't take many before she was sick but I don't recall thinking at age 10-13 to take pictures of mom before she dies. She was sick for 3 years. Not a single photo of my father, just my mom. Odd don't you think?

I remember taking this one I just saw because she yelled at me. She looked terrible she said. 
If I am being honest, she does. As I have mentioned here before in my stories of my mom she had a nurse come towards the end every afternoon to give her a shot. The shot I later learned as an adult was morphine. She would get tired and she would lay on the sofa. I would normally sit with her and she would put her head in my lap and we'd watch her soap operas. Another World or Days of Our Lives. Back in those days watching with your mom was okay because they weren't all sexed up as they are today. Shirts and skirts were left on.

After the soaps Mom would get up and begin her routine of dinner prep and all that entailed before Dad came home. She never was on that sofa for more than an hour after the shot most days.  I find it crazy today to think how sick she was but she never stopping being this obsessed housewife. Perhaps that gave her the strength to get up each day and go one. I don't know.

I'm not going to post the photo because if she were alive she'd kill me. I still feel that. She was at the stove, her hair a mess like she just woke up, the one side flat the other up and she looked as ill as she was. Her face had dark circles under her eyes and honestly it just doesn't look like her. But for some reason I remember the need to take her picture. I did that all the time. I guess I knew deep down.

Yesterday for some reason I couldn't get she or my cousin Bobby out of my head. I kept thinking about them both all day. I mentioned to Rick as we were having dinner that I think I'm going to call Bob because he keeps popping in my head. But after dinner a friend stopped by and then it was too late to call anyone civilized.

This morning I awoke to find out that my cousin Bobby's partner of over 25 years had a massive heart attack and died. I so adore Bobby. Since I was a little girl he was my best buddy. My heart aches for him right now. I spoke to Bobby's daughter and she told me that he was numb. They had plans to go out today to deal with funeral arrangements and all that entails. His partner was a wonderful sweet lovely man. I can't say enough wonderful things about him. This breaks my heart. My Bobby is the bald man on the right. This is from our cousins reunion this past October.

I am going to go hug my Big Guy and my dog now.