My mom died October 25 and the funeral was held October 30 but it wasn’t until today that it really and truly hit me how much I will miss her. Today my siblings gathered with my step-father to divide up some of her things. I was fine as we discussed furniture that he wanted to find homes for or sell and fine as we divided up her very large collection of jewelry (most of which I never saw her wear). It started when we opened her closet and began handling her clothes which still smelled like her. It got worse when I packed up dishes that I had asked for years before and realized I only got to take home because she wasn’t here anymore.
I found a tiny ancient children’s mug in the bottom of her hutch. Inside was a note in her handwriting that read: 3/17/88 for Belinda. I’ve never seen this cup before. I have no idea why she left it for me. It’s a mystery I’ll never be able to solve. There are so many questions I wish I could ask her. We never believed her in danger of dying and now that she’s gone, I have no one to answer them. She was the last of her family. All of her stories are lost to me. All I have left are memories, a few mementos and a mystery. I hate this.