Memories of Mom

My mother died April 22, 2000. I had a very hard time dealing with her loss - I went into a depression that I didn't fully come out of for about three years. Now, though, I'm okay. I think about her a lot and have dreams about her from time to time, but I'm no longer depressed or anything. That's why I was so surprised when the grief returned full force while I was visiting my brother in July.

My oldest brother was kind enough to use some of his frequent flyer miles to allow me to travel to Tennessee to visit him and his fiance for the July 4th weekend. I was happy to see them and their new house, and to visit Tennessee, where I'd never been before. He lives just outside of Nashville, so naturally he thought it would be a good idea to take me to the Grand Ole Opry while I was there. I wasn't too excited about going, because I'm not a country music fan (I'm a rock girl now and forever), but I figured it would be a good experience. And it really was. What shocked me, though, was how I started crying with the first notes of the first song, and didn't stop for a solid half hour. Why? Because I could feel my Mom all over the place.

My mother loved country music, and it was a dream of hers to go see a show at the Grand Ole Opry (she also wanted to go to Yankee Stadium for a game - she was a huge Yankees fan). The music was all stuff that I remember her and my step-dad listening too when I was a kid, and it's all stuff that I probably hadn't heard since she died five years earlier, and really probably years before that. The sounds of the music filled the air around me, and she came with it. To make it even worse, there was a woman sitting in front of me that looked a lot like Mom. She had the same nose (I loved Mom's nose and wished I had gotten it, but I got my Dad's, unfortunately), the same hair color, the same shape to her cheeks - it was eerie. I sat next to my brother, trying not to let him see that I was crying my eyes out. It was so bad that I didn't know if I'd be able to make it through the whole show. Luckily they had half hour shows with breaks in between. I barely made it to the first break.

What amazed me, though, was that the experience brought my Mother back to me in a way I hadn't been able to see her in a very long time. She had been sick before she died. She started having strokes in 1996, and they altered her personality quite a bit. She was still the same person, but her personality was entirely different. Sitting in that darkened hall, though, with the sounds of the music flowing around me and into me, I started to be able to see her the way she used to be, before the strokes, before my step-father's death, before life had beaten her down and changed her forever. I could see a vision of her sitting next to me, her eyes shining, dancing and singing along to the music, and looking over at me and touching me, sharing her joy with me. I may have cried for that whole half an hour segment of the show, but once I got past the initial rush of grief and started to remember that version of her, there started to be happiness under the tears. I don't think I will ever go back to the Grand Ole Opry again, but I will always be grateful to my brother for taking me there in July, and giving my mother back to me. Thanks for coming Mom - it was so good to see you.