Mother William

The Blog Propellant’s Sunday Online Writer’s Guild prompts us to incorporate the following 3 sentences into a post: “She wore a dark and faded blazer,” “This is real life,” and “He peered into the monitor and blinked.” The added challenge today, it being Mother’s Day, is to work in something about dear ol’ mom.


Me ‘n Mom, circa late ’70s

I stared at my laptop’s monitor waiting for inspiration for quite a while before I started the clock for today’s writing prompt. It’s not easy to write about my mother.

Mom died a little over 4 years ago. We were pretty close, so you’d assume her death was hard for me to take. It wasn’t. Witnessing her body disintegrate was worse; the once bright, energetic and witty woman replaced by cancer with a vapid mind and fragile shell of a body in a matter of just a few weeks. But I was not devastated by her death. That surprised me.

There have been moments of angst, of course. Like, the first time I thought, “I’ve got to tell mom about this!” and instantly realizing she wasn’t around to talk to anymore. The most difficult was sorting through her things, for, in life, her belongings were a genuine extension of her being. Clothes in particular. She had quite the wardrobe, especially work clothes. Dismantling the neat rows of blouses, skirts, dresses and suit blazers, all arranged by color, felt like ransacking a sacred temple. Moreover, it felt like I was taking a giant eraser to her entire existence.

I wonder if I will break down in sobs someday, as I did when my father died. Had mom been the first to go, would I have wept uncontrollably for her and been more modest in my grief for my him at his passing? She died so soon after my father, maybe I was still too numb from his loss to take any more to heart. Perhaps. Who knows.

Such is life. The things you think are going to play out a certain way, end up manifesting in an entirely different manner.

I choose the number 7 for next week’s prompt.

11 thoughts on “Mother William

  1. “Dismantling the neat rows of blouses, skirts, dresses and suit blazers, all arranged by color, felt like ransacking a sacred temple.” This line says it all–and so well. Taking apart the arrangement of another life is a bit like tearing apart a fine art collage or taking a razor to a painting. You say it so aptly here.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Well I’m tearing up.. I completely understand as i wen through a very similar experience with my own mother. I haven’t been able to write directly about it yet, only trying to capture some of the emotions in story form, and that was ten years ago that she passed. I commend you for tackling your feelings head on. I hope to able to do the same some day. Thank you so much for sharing!

    Liked by 1 person

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