Mother's Day Without Mom

Today is Mother’s Day. It has been a rather odd day around our house. Everyone has been on the quiet side. Don’t get me wrong though, it has been a lovely day. But the absence of Mom has been felt pretty hard by every one of us, Dad most especially.
He went to bed tonight as usual. Less than an hour later, he was back up. He went into the Jordyn’s room and yelled at him and Cameryn. He told them it was disrespectful to watch TV and have a good time celebrating when his wife had just died 2 weeks ago. He told them to turn off the TV and went back to his room.
I went upstairs to get something to drink and Dad shuffled into the room. I apologized if I had woken him up. He informed me that he hadn’t been to sleep because he was lying in bed thinking about his wife. He then proceeded to tell me what had happened with the boys. I told him I was sorry and assured him they were headed to bed.
As I went to tell the boys lights out, Jeremy and Susan came into the kitchen from outside. I heard them laugh. Dad bristled and shuffled in their direction. He promptly gave them the same speech he had the boys. That it was disrespectful to celebrate and have a good time when his wife had only died 2 weeks ago. He said he couldn’t understand what had gotten into everyone. His face, as he left the room, showed his utter disgust. I let him go but followed him most of the way to his room, watching for signs of unbalance.

I went downstairs once everyone was settled. 20 minutes or so later, Richard was outside and I was just inside the door when we heard a couple of crashes from the kitchen. He ran through the house and up the stairs while I ran up the outside stairs. We reached the kitchen at the same time to discover Jordyn & Cameryn with their hands practically in the cookie jar. They each had a different version of what had happened. Basically it comes down to this there was a glass knocked over and the lid to the cookie jar was askance.
Dad came in to see what the ruckus was all about as I was getting onto Jordyn. He jumped to the children’s defense. “It’s ok. No harm done. I quit using that cookie jar because the lid makes too much noise.” He wink at the boys, “Kids will be kids. Don’t be too hard on them. I’m sure they weren’t trying to misbehave.”
I sent Jordyn to his room and settled Cameryn on the couch in the living room. As I was covering him up, Dad reached over and ruffled his hair. “He’s a good one. A real prize! They all are to be honest. But this one is special.” He bent down and kissed Cameryn on the cheek and allowed me to help him to his bedroom.
“Dad, where is your walker?” I asked.
“In the bedroom,” he answered sheepishly. “I keep looking at it and thinking it’s a good idea to use it but then I forget.”
“Well, we need to think of a way for you to remember. Dad, it’s just like the way you use to hound Mom about using her wheelchair. You did it because you loved her. I do it because I love you.” I squeezed his arm, “I don’t want anything to happen to you just yet.”
As we entered the bedroom he looked toward Mom’s jewelry box where her ashes were once again resting. “I’m just not ready to bury her. I know it’s not the same but she is here. We’ve been married so long I don’t think I can give her up.”
“Dad, nobody says you have to give her up.”
“I might want to bury her someday or I might not ever want to bury her. Right now I don’t.”
I stopped and put my arms out to him, “Dad, I kind of like knowing she’s here with you. Maybe now it’s her turn to keep an eye on you. But, no matter you do what you want to and I will stand behind you. I love you.”
His arms came around me and he hugged me tight as he whispered in my ear, “I love you, too, Sweetheart. Thank you. Thank you for all you do for me.”
I tucked him in and moved the walker so it would completely block his path if he got up again. I set the brakes and looked at him. “Now, when you get up, you will have to use it to get out.”
He chuckled softly, pointing out, “I had it there twice already and I just moved it out of the way both times. But you’re welcome to give it a try.”
Shaking my head with a smile, I called, “I love you,” over my shoulder as I left the room. Halfway down the hall, I heard, “I love you, too…”