Learning To Fly

Does it bother you?" My Lovely Bride asked.

You being me. It being talking about my Mom who died on October 18, 2006.

"No. Not really." I said as I took a sip of beer and stabbed a sugar coated Wing Stop french fry into a side of atomic sauce.

"We're going to see the other Granny, not Old Granny" Wy said. "The one who didn't die."

"Yes...when we go to Oklahoma, we'll see Old Granny, not your Granny. She was my Mom. "Do you remember her?" I asked.

"Yes." he said. Although I'm not 100% sure Wy Wy was telling the truth. He has this little half smile thing he does when he is being what I call windy (less than truthful, though not fully lying.) If he does that, along with this little head shake thing, he's usually embellishing the truth.

My Lovely Bride smiled at me. A sad, knowing smile since she was the one who had started the conversation about Mom over lunch at Wing Stop and said to no one in particular, "She was a lot of fun."

Fast forward to what is now and My Lovely Bride is working which put me on Boy(s) patrol. For the first time ever, I walked Ethan to school with both Ruby and Wy Wy. As usual, The Little Warrior brought a whole new perspective to this simple act. From running ahead and grabbing a neighbor's newspaper and putting it on their front porch, to trying to sneak up on Mr. Chambers our crossing guard. In fact, I once wrote on this here BLOG that I had never seen Mr. Chambers smile until the day Molly the Dog returned. Yet today, with Wyatt, who Mr. Chambers clearly likes, I think I saw him smile more than I have the entirety of my walking Ethan to school career.

Wy Wy is a cool little guy which is why on days like today, I'm especially sad that my Mom missed getting to know him. This older version of him. Ethan too. She's missing (missed) so much. Which sucks, hard, because she was the one that enjoyed this type of stuff the most. She realized this of course. In fact when she told me she was terminal, she said missing seeing the Boy(s) grow up was one of her biggest regrets for a life of smoking. That would make a sexy smoking advert, don't you think. A wasted 64 year old women telling the camera she wouldn't live to see her youngest grandson turn 3 fucking years old.

Today would have been (or is, I'm still unclear on what is the correct way to state this) my Mom's 67th birthday. And next Saturday will be the two year anniversary of her death.

Two years.

Fuck me. And Fuck Cancer, hard.

Until I BLOG again...I guess I'll know when I get there.