The CUBS played the last game of the season, yesterday. They won, and wound up taking two out of three from the Brewers in the final series of the year. It's now officially time to "wait 'til next year". Next year, I think, will finally be worth the wait.
We had Grannie's Memorial gathering over the weekend. Family attended. And rightly so. Over the years, all of Grannie's friends from neighborhoods past, had gone. Passed away. What Grannie had left was family, especially my cousin and her children and grandchildren and their spouses and children. Grannie reveled in those people. And my sons.
The Bears got beaten, miserably, by the Packers. I give up on Chicago sports. Until Spring training. Until Pitchers and Catchers report. Until the CUBS make it "next year".
If you haven't watched "Moone Boy" on your PBS station, you ought to give it a try. It's whacky Irish at whacky Irish best.
Have a Happy Monday.
The CUBS managed to lose three out of the four game series they played against the Los Angeles Dodgers over the weekend. That said, the youngsters are playing well and with all of them in place at the beginning of next year (with, one hopes, some improved pitching in place) the CUBS are going to be, at the very least, lots of fun to watch. I predict a winning record in 2015.
I'm still trying to get my head around the death of my mother. It's an adjustment, to say the least. I was there when she died, and so was my youngest son. My ex-wife was there in a matter of a minute or two after Grannie died. She was surrounded by those who love her, at the end. At some point, I suppose, it will sink in. Meanwhile, the house feels strange and I fully expect to hear her TV turned up way too loud while she watched Perry Mason.
There is so much to do. So many things that need to be taken care of.
I don't really know where to begin.
"Period of Adjustment"
That's what they call it.
I am sorry. I'll get it squared away shortly. Promise. ~ Lou
This is the first Monday since Grannie died on the 11th. My Mom.
The death of one's Mother is no less keenly felt by a man of 69 years of age than it would be by a boy of 12. It's just at 69, it's not as much of a surprise.
All through her hospitalization, I held out the hope she would regain her strength, and get well, and come home. At the end, it became obvious it wasn't going to happen.
In the end, she got what she wanted. She went to sleep and she didn't wake up. Her heart stopped.
Somewhere, deep inside of me, is planted the memory of the sound of her heart - from the inside.
She is the woman who gave me life - she is the reason I exist at all.
And now she is gone.
I ran across an ancient book of photos of people long dead well before I was born. Iowa people. Tracey, Snodgrass, Green, Matthews. Templeton. Pierce.
Templeton and Pierce made my Mom, but all those other names, and many more, belong to families of those related, directly or indirectly, to Mom. And, therefore, to me.
It's hard to look at those old photos and ascribe life and personality to the figures I can see in them. In the photos. They are just names and stoic faces in faded shades of grey. Or sepia. With handwriting surrounding their photo - or sometimes faded pencil writing on the back. Saying who they were. And sometimes, how they were related to some ancestor or other.
My mother lives in photos, now.
The thing about digital photos is that they don't fade, the expressions on faces are real and immediate, personalities come through. Mostly.
I have her photos. I'll remember all those years and the times we had. But I won't have Her.
She's in heaven, knitting caps and scarves and afghans for the angels.
Ndinombethe, Mom. As I go, I am wearing you.
CUBS managed to get swept by Pittsburgh so their 6 game homestand wound up 3 and 3. Oh well. I hate to say "Wait 'Til Next Year" - but just wait. It'll happen.
Today is my birthday - the day I complete 69 years of life. 69. One of my favorite numbers - although its favored status has nothing to do with age. Heh.
My Facebook friends have already begun to wish me a Happy Birthday. I really appreciate Facebook for making it so easy to keep up with things like birthdays, etc. And to ALL my friends, I say "Thank You".
I've had to bring goodies to work, today. It's our habit to do so. Whenever someone has a birthday, that person is obligated to bring the goodies. My blood sugar will be a bit off, tomorrow. I'm just sayin'.
Short and sweet, today. Tomorrow I will post about something that's been on my mind - that's kept me away from here far too much.