Shot from inside Don’s car as we drove to the library for our walk.
It’s been cold, but sunny. In fact, the sun is deceiving! You think it’s going to be warmer than it is. I noticed some green shoots emerging from the ground when we were walking around the library. It’s too early for spring, but the bulbs underground seem to think it isn’t.
I’ve been thinking about my mom and missing her. I always miss her, but I think working on the Shirley Temple doll has brought her to the forefront of my mind. When I was growing up, we watched old movies together and she knew all about the actors and directors. She was an encyclopedia of movie lore. When Don and I are watching an old movie and I provide the name of an actor or director or some obscure bit of information on the film, Don will often ask “How do you know that??” I often respond that “I just know it,” but when I really think about it, I realize I know about it because of my mom. The same thing occurs with a lot of music, especially songs of the 30s, 40s, and 50s. I know an awful lot about the popular music of those decades.
As with all of our parents, mom grew up in a time where there were movies and radio. That’s it. You went to the movie theater to see a movie. You listened to shows on the radio. There was no streaming, no television, none of that. So movies were everything.
I miss chatting with her about that. Even in her later years, I would often call her to ask her about something or other, knowing she would most likely know the answer. A few weeks ago, Don and I turned on TCM and ended up watching the last half of the movie version of the Broadway musical “Bells are Ringing.” (Side note: it was not a very good adaptation.) But, that movie was one I frequently watched with my mom and it starred the late, great Judy Holliday. I remember Mom telling me that Judy died tragically young and that every time she heard Judy sing “The Party’s Over” she would cry. The sadness of the song coupled with the fact that Judy died from breast cancer at the age of 43 would make mom weep. And, all these years later, it does the same thing to me. I cannot hear that song without tearing up. What an enormous loss. That leads my thought to my brother’s death at 44. And round and round I go. Of course, when mom told me about Holliday, she had no idea she would lose her son one day at nearly the same age.
After seeing the movie, I pulled out the original Broadway cast recording, and I’ve been listening to it off and on. It’s all about a woman who works for an answering service, so it isn’t performed nowadays as much as it deserves. And if it is, it must take place in the same period in which it was written. It has a score by Betty Comden and Adolph Greene, who performed with Judy in a comedy group called The Revuers when they were young, sometimes accompanied by Leonard Bernstein. A gift for their old pal. Her leading man was Sydney Chaplin, the son of Charlie Chaplin, who was also the original Nicky Arnstein in Funny Girl.
But I digress. I miss those chats with mom. I miss talking to my dad, as well. I know this feeling is universal: I wish I could pick up the phone and call my parents. I sometimes – for a brief millisecond – think “Oh, I’ll just call mom and ask her.” For one moment, I step out of the time construct and forget she is no longer here.
Don and I have been having conversations off and on about questions we wish we had asked our parents. If only we could go back in time and ask them. And why didn’t we think to ask them??
I wish, I wish, I wish.
Some thoughts for today.
Stay safe.
Happy Wednesday.
I have a photo of my Mom in my bedroom – her high school portrait – and I always smile when I see it. I actually talk out loud to my Mom quite often during my day.
My sister and I always wish we had asked my parents more questions about their lives and their families. And that we had written down stories they might have told us as we can’t always remember all of the details now.
let me say I never, ever write on blogs (I read yours everyday and feel your a friend I just haven’t yet met) but your post touched my heart today, because your brave enough to share your heart…my mom passed on Christmas day, just before covid, I often feel I have grief interrupted, but no, I just miss my mom, for all the things she knew and i don’t and for the way a mom loves you like noone else on the planet, mostly I wish I could say “I love you, one more time” I didn’t say that enough….so today because of you, I whispered it to the wind…thank you for your writing, for sharing your heart and reminding me of important things as you so often do.
I’m so sorry about the loss of your mother, Pati. I echo your wishes to say I love you just one more time. My mom was in a nursing home and I it was difficult communicating with her. But I said it out loud here all the time and I know that she ‘visited’ me several times. Whisper it, say it out loud. She hears you.
Thank you for your kind words.
Stay safe.
Thank you Claudia ❤ (didn’t realize I posted on someones post, oops, my apologies)
xo
Yes! If only I had written things down. And my Aunt Lettie, the unofficial historian of my dad’s family, told me so many stories and I didn’t write them down. I don’t think I taped them either!
Stay safe, Ellen.
March is a hard month for me. Not only was March when my parents got married, also my mom’s birth month. March is also the month both of my parents passed away, years apart. I remember canning, riding my bike with my mom. My dad made me a backpack out of his old fatigues for me to use when I was in girl scouts. Fond memories,. I would have liked to have more time with them.
Oh, March has taken a heavy toll in your life, Trina.
All I can say is that I believe that they’re still with us in some way.
Stay safe.
Oh yes…all the questions we should’ve asked our moms and dads. I often times too, think I can just call my mom .…talk like we used to talk, while taking walks, or working in the gardens. But that isn’t how the world works, is it? When my mom had her stroke, while she did lose her freedom of movement, she did retain her smile, her vibrancy, and her spirit. And while I thought I had all the answers I needed, I still long for one last conversation with her…if for no other reason than to see her smile.
Enjoy your day! ;)
Oh, yes! One last long conversation. I feel the same way, Donnamae
Stay safe.
I understand your longings. Sending some sympathies your way today.
When suffering especially loss when younger, while still in the throes of early adulthood, I know I couldn’t wrap myself around the permanence of death because I remember when it hit me like a ton of bricks that there would be no asking of questions forever after, and that answers would remain as lost as the loved ones. There was a finality to it that was nothing like I’d ever known.
I absolutely understand. I felt the same way. So many missed opportunities to talk and then, suddenly, that loved one is gone.
Take care, Vicki.
Stay safe.
What a lovely, heartfelt post. I miss both my parents, they died within four months of each other.
Dad always had plenty tales to tell, his early life had been difficult. His parents were in their early forties when he was born and his mother died also aged 44 just before his 4th birthday. He had a sister who was 10 years older and it was his mother’s second marriage as she had been widowed during the First World War.
I remember once when I was about 15, Dad and I were out one Saturday in a nearby town when he bumped into a lady in her sixties. She said hello to me and they chatted for a while. I assumed that she was a work colleague but asked who she was.
I shocked when he said it’s my half sister Gladys from his mother’s first marriage! I knew nothing of her existence. Gladys was 22 years older and when her mother remarried decided to continue living with her grandparents.
She had children only a little bit younger than Dad and he used to go and stay with them in the countryside when he was younger.
I wish that I had asked more about his younger life.
Happy Wednesday
What a fascinating story, Dee Dee! And how terrible for your dad to lose his mom at such a young age.
My parents died within 18 months of each other. I’m surprised that my Dad hung on as long as he did after mom’s death. They were devoted to each other and had been married nearly 70 years.
I so wish I had asked my parents more about their lives before the kids came along.
Stay safe.
trying not to cry as i write this …
i sure do relate to what you wrote … i miss my mother very, very much. same for my grandparents, other relatives and animals of our family all very, very much. i talk to them and pray for them and that helps. i am grateful for happy memories, photographs and other gifts that help, too. and i very, very much look forward to that great reunion for which i thank God.
in the meantime it is hard, but talking about it helps, too, so thanks, claudia, for opening the topic today.
…
on a different topic, how is your car? i hope you are pleased with the repair and that the man and his insurance company handled it in a way that you feel good about, too.
another beautiful photo in your post today. i love most of nature (i understand in general why there are bugs and snakes and things like them; just don’t want to be around them), but nothing much comes close to water (especially moving water) and clouds and storms for me. glad you have those rivers nearby, too.
happy wednesday and thursday, everyone. stay safe.
kathy
My car is looking very good. The guy did a nice job on it and he took care of it in a day. Now, we wait for reimbursement from the guy who hit me. It wasn’t expensive, given what care repairs cost, and we’re very grateful for the honest guy who took care of it.
Stay safe, Kathy.
Yes, I totally understand your feelings about missing your Mom and Dad. Me, too. And like so many, I forget sometimes and think “oh my gosh, Dad would love that” or “oh, I wonder if Mom remembers this?” and then… I remember… I miss them every day. Every once in a while the thought comes to me “I am an orphan, my parents are dead” and it always shocks me they are both gone. I have their pictures in my bedroom on my book case – both my parents were BIG readers and passed that love to me, and my younger siblings and onto their grandchildren too. So I love having their pictures among my ‘library’ and I see their faces every day. I have pictures of them at work too, including one of them with me, their oldest daughter.
Bless you, Dawn. I am absolutely convinced that they see that and know that you love them. Love is eternal.
Stay safe.
And your folks see you and know you love and miss them too. All the best, Dawn
xo
Oh, Claudia, your post today really has hit me hard and I know you know why. Wishing you and Don much love and happiness today and always.
xoxoxo
Oh, I’m sorry if it hit you hard, dear Cathy. Sending you my love and a big hug, dear friend.
Stay safe.
I get the Mom thing. There are certain things I do or places I might be that really click those feelings into overdrive. The question you wanted to ask, the fun you wanted to have or the memory to share. She would be so proud of me that my book is going to press and I can imagine her surprise about learning things she never knew about her own family.
Bells are Ringing. Now THAT brings back a memory for me. When I was a kid and we’d play being other people, I wanted to be Judy Holliday (and Jane Wyman). I don’t even know how I knew about Holliday, except we did have the Broadway Bells are Ringing. So, when I turned nine, my mom took several of my friends and me to see Bells are Ringing at the beautiful Michigan theater. If I wasn’t singing it before (at age 9, not singing it well) I was after (well, still not well). But oh, I loved it. I saw it the other night on TCM and taped it to FF through later to the musical numbers. You’re right about “The Party’s Over” being so poignant in light of her early death. I’m trying to remember who they wanted to cast in the film but not Judy. But they pushed hard and with her success in Adam’s Rib, it happened. So glad it did.
Actually – and I know this because I just read it yesterday – Adam’s Rib got her Born Yesterday. Even though she starred in Born Yesterday on Broadway, Harry Cohn didn’t want her in the movie. But her scene stealing portrayal in Adam’s Rib and some pressure changed his mind and he okayed her for BY. Belles Are Ringing was filmed 10 years later and it was her last movie.
Stay safe, Jeanie.
Spot on! Yes, I remember now. I think we might have read the same thing but having just seen Adam’s Rib AND Bells, I think that was sticking in my head! Thanks!
You’re welcome!
I’m so sorry about your sadness about your mom and your brother. And Judy Holliday! (I loved her, too.) It so expresses your love for them. My mom is still here, but her mind is lost to Alzheimer’s – and I think of questions all the time that I wish I could ask her!
I hope you’re enjoying the beautiful day, Claudia.
Oh, I’m sorry, Jenny. Alzheimer’s is such a cruel disease. Sending you and your mother a big hug as you navigate through this illness.
Stay safe.
Thank you!
xo
dear Claudia/Don — how ironic for you to post this re your mom today b/c 47 years ago Myma left this earth after many illnesses, etc and I still feel that pain from all those years ago — holding her hand as she left. recovery was not possible for her but oh how I had wanted recovery to be possible. thank you for making it OK to remember, cry a few tears but always being able to recall good times spent w/loved ones. pls stay safe/healthy
Oh, Linda – a bittersweet post on a bittersweet day for you. Thinking of you and your loss.
Much love,
Claudia
We never grow too old to need our moms and dads. Yes, if we had the wisdom of age we would have definitely asked about and recorded their memories. My mom and my mother-in-law died 20 years ago in the same week. That was a very difficult week to get through. I think of both of them almost every day. Nice to revisit memories. Hugs, Elaine
What a heartbreaking week that must have been for you and your husband, Elaine.
We never get over the loss.
Stay safe.
I have started listening to Anderson Cooper’s podcast ‘All There Is’ about grief and the loss of his parents and brother. He has guests who have also lost loved ones and talk about how they have coped and what they have learned. I have only listened to a few so far but each podcast they all seem to reach a point of being grateful for the time they had with their loved ones. Grief and loss is something we all must live with. I also have the momentary thought to ask my mom something, and of course she has been gone for many years, but for the split second she was there. As long as we have memories they are not truly gone from our lives.
Take care
I think they are never gone from our lives. They are just beyond the veil, the curtain. Nevertheless, it seems – to us – as if they are gone forever.
Thank you, Marilyn.
Stay safe.
Beautiful post today,Claudia.Oh,and Judy Holliday! Now I want to watch Bells Are Ringing once again.xo
She was so talented, Annette.
Thank you.
Stay safe.
Your writing brought tears to me eyes. I have similar thoughts and feelings. My dad died (from cancer) in 2021 and Mom died (from dementia) this past May. I have a digital frame with all kinds of family photos on; it always makes me smile. I do have this ritual though — at work right before I go home, I take out my cell phone and look through my photos. There’s one photo that my husband took of me and Mom and we’re laughing because we have exact same shirt on — twins! That picture is special because she passed away the next day. I almost didn’t let my husband take it because I don’t like how I look in photos BUT I’m so GLAD that we have that photo. Parents are so incredibly important and special; we never get over missing them. Hugs to you today.
I’m so glad you have that photo, too. I’m sorry for your losses, Carrie. Having that photo – seeing you and your mother laughing together – that is priceless.
Stay safe.
Claudia thank you for sharing your feelings. I am grieving for my Mom and it’s only been a few months since I lost her. I too think I will forever miss her and I do talk to her. I find comfort in that. I’ll move on with my life but a piece of my heart went with my Mom. Hugs.
You will forever miss her. But she is there, to talk to, to – for a moment – make her presence felt. I’ve had those moments. They are rare and they last a millisecond, but they are everything.
Stay safe, Linda.
Beautiful post Claudia. Miss my parents each and every day! I often catch myself saying that aloud nearly every day.
I understand, Deb.
Stay safe.