Six Months to the Day

It’s been six months to the day. My mom passed away on a Saturday afternoon on February 15. It’s easy to remember because it’s the day after Valentine’s Day and she was born in February. I think about her every day still. It was a whirlwind drive to and from Florida and the funeral. My parents made all the arrangements a long time ago and she was buried at a Florida National Cemetery next to my Dad. She was a Navy veteran - something both my parents were proud of. We were able to celebrate her life right before the pandemic struck. But it seems like it happened so quickly. It just so happens that I received an email from my cousin yesterday that includes a translated Polish letter her mother wrote about twenty years ago. It describes my mom’s family unit and included a lot of information I already knew about but was interested to hear again. The “estate” isn’t settled yet, but there is no hurry. Everything feels like it’s been put on hold and it doesn’t appear that things will normalize again for quite some time. We used to meet every month with my siblings and that has stopped, so there really wasn’t any opportunity to relive things as one might normally do. Our routine has changed and we don’t see anyone. Somehow it doesn’t seem fair but I don’t know what that should even mean anymore. This was supposed to be a time to “enjoy” our golden years. I just don’t see that happening. I feel like I’m still stuck in February.