Friday, 03 September 2010 -- Day 257 (270)

Last night was one of those nights.  I knew it was going to happen as soon as it flashed into my head.  Lying in bed trying to fall asleep, I saw Mom lying in the hospital bed on her last night w/ us.  Once that image gets in my head, I can't turn off my brain, and my thoughts jump willy-nilly.  Rather than fighting the images last night, I just let them come.  The hospital bed image led me to the OK sign that Mom gave as she lightly twisted her right hand after Dad and Lori agreed to patch things up.  That led to holding Mom's hand while dancing in the kitchen and the look of concentration as she spun me around.  That led to other mannerisms all uniquely Mom.  That led to the a fear that, over time, I'll forget these expressions so I tried to copy a photo image in my memory of how she held her mouth when telling a story or how her hands nimbly peeled potatoes.  I also thought last night about how I have less than 120 days of writing in this journal, and that made me worry that I won't think about Mom as much.  And if I'm not thinking about her, I'm afraid I'll forget her look and her laugh.  I guess in a way this blog has become my surrogate mother.  As long as I'm writing in this, I feel closer to her, and that makes me less sad.