Mike and Ike

With my graduation finally approaching, I have been missing my mom lately. She died about 2 1/2 years ago from cancer. At Christmas that year she was fine and we were arguing over how I celebrate Christmas; that January, after going to the doctor for a cold that wouldn't go away, she was diagnosed with stage 4 melanoma and given a few months to live. She lasted around 8. When my family goes through major milestones (my little sister's high school graduation, another sister's near marriage, etc) or even just holidays her absence is especially difficult.

The other night we were at the store grabbing a few things for dinner and we saw they were selling Mike and Ike candies by the check-out. There was a running gag in my Mom's house about this candy. It was one of her favorites because my Dad's nickname was Ike, and her second husband's name was Mike so the candy seemed to fit her life. Jaime and I saw these on sale and couldn't resist buying a box in memory of her--a tongue in cheek tribute that she would have appreciated.

I'd wanted to visit her grave stone lately and seeing that stupid candy inspired a spontaneous trip. So while the cashier was ringing up the groceries Moira and I ran back to pick out some roses. What the heck, dinner can wait--lets go for a drive. Dinner turned into tortilla chips and Mike and Ikes eaten in the car.

Once there we started weeding some dandelions and cleaning the stone. Evie thought she would help by stomping on a few ants crawling on the headstone. We told Evie about her Grandma that she'll never remember. We pointed to each of the letters in my mom's name and Evie named them. "Now Grandma knows how smart you are." We put down the roses and ate our candy. Then we just stood there not really knowing what to do.

One of the biggest regrets I have in my life is how I treated those last eight months she was alive. I said some things that shouldn't have been said, and even though I tried to visit as often as I could, it doesn't seem like enough. As I was standing there, all I could think was to say I'm sorry and hope that the dead can forgive.

I was glad we went that night. Moira said going there made her feel closer to her grandma. Even though she was barely five when my mom died it was really hard for her. But I'm glad she has the memories she does. I only wish they'd had time to make more.

Sorry for the depressing post, but I just had to get it out there.