My Mom started forgetting.
I said, “Ah, Mom…everyone forgets! Look at me!”
Her reply, “No, Kath, I am really forgetting.” By the sound of her voice, I knew that something was wrong.
I called last summer, The Summer of Lost and Found. I had lost my love. I had lost my Laurie-dog. I lost the real-life, money-making, ego-stroking relationships with the commercial galleries. I retired from my everything-predictable career. And, I was dealing with my Mom’s beautiful voice telling me on our loop around the circle, “I’m forgetting.”
That was it! I armed myself with six seasons of LOST and FOUND myself a comfortable spot on the red sofa. And…when I wasn’t hiking and talking and talking with my friend, Cathy, or watching Jack on a LOST island, I was searching for my parents’ family roots…digging up the stories…seeking out living-family across the country…and creating a context for my Mom who was forgetting and for me, a lady who had lost the will to write or paint or dig weeds. As a result of this huge gap…I have begun back-filling the hole in my heart. I have filled it with new friends, new work, countless river-walks with a new dog (crazy border collie!) and now, new art. All will be well.
When I drive east this summer and return my mother to the ocean waves pounding up on Prince Edward Island beaches, I will carry with me a detailed recounting of her family history and I will tell her stories while we sit and watch the sun set from lawn chairs on our cottage deck. It is a wonderful thing to find yourself again!