A lovely sadness

Tonight I miss you with huge waves of loss. As I was drifting off to sleep I was thinking happily of kangaroos. I have always loved kangaroos and of course their pockets. Kangaroo associations began coming fast and furious. You had a tiny perfume bottle kept in the pouch of a kangaroo. You had a blue kangaroo with button joints so the legs could move, and she had a baby roo. You had purple and pink kangaroo shoes where I could hide things for you to find in the pouch. Your whole room came into focus with all your shoes doing a small tap dance, led of course by the kangaroo ones. In the back row were your turquoise suede pumps. I could see your beautiful dressed up feet dancing away in the pumps and I realized that I have never yet mastered the art of walking in any kind of heel. Was this something you were supposed to teach me?

Becoming wide awake, all sorts of other questions that I have wanted to ask you came to mind. I’m sad that you only knew me as a young person, always going through some kind of childhood phase. I’m still going through phases, but their effects may be longer lasting. I’m sad I have to create a vision of you as a woman from my memories when my perspective was skewed by viewing you only as a mom figure. I’m sad that I can’t have you over for a cup of tea and conversation. I’m sad that we can’t start our own book club together. I’m sad that you will never drive on a road that I have designed, or edit a book of short stories I may one day write. Tonight, once again, the loss of you created a painful ache in my lungs – and I treasured it because it showed me how lucky I was to have a mother I so hugely loved!