...sigh...

I lost my Mom last January...we knew the end was near...
the struggle was long and hard enough that the peace of death,
was a blessing...

now, the dust has "settled"...memorials are completed,
the estate has been "dealt" with,
her belongings that remained are boxed, or stored away...

and I find myself the last couple of days, on the verge of tears....
missing her...

not the way it was when she was in the last few years,
sick, sometimes not knowing me, in pain...

but the way it was when I was younger, and going home
meant Mom's steamed persimmon pudding, with a hard lemon sauce...
or fruit cake she made herself...I like fruitcake because of it...
the candied orange, lemon and grapefruit peel we made....
her roast turkey, both Thanksgiving and Christmas....
and all the "grandma goodies" for the "grandcats"...

she was always fun to give gifts to,
because she had such definite tastes,
I always knew what she'd like...and she
always loved what I gave her...

after Dad died in 1988, she had about 13 or 14
really happy and comfortable years there on the ranch,
alone, with her dogs and cats...and roses...
and lots of other flowers...

she'd plant zinnias, pansies, stock and portulachas...
the hollyhocks, poppies and sunflowers
came up on their own,flourishing,
until the hot sun got them...

I remember the smell of the leaves of the Australian Oaks, after rain...
the "cover crop" between rows in the vineyards in the spring
and the rich smell of raisins curing in the fall...
touched by the fleeting whiff of the winery in the distance...

the orchard of fruit trees across the road,
filled the air with sweet fragrance in early spring...
and your eyes with the only shade of pink I like,
until the blossoms fell...

in April, the orange trees were intoxicating...
and the sage flourished on the ditchbank,
perfuming all seasons but winter...

the red persimmons decorated the tree into December,
after all the leaves were gone...
and the plumes of lilacs from the older-than-me bush
their perfume, all the more heady after a spring shower...

I know it just sounds like I'm homesick...
and in a way, I am...
Mom was born in the old house,
was married on the front porch, and,
with the exception of about 6 months at the beginning of her marriage,
lived there for all but the last 2 years of her life...

her goal in the convalescent hospital was, "to go home"...
and she succeeded, she had live-in help, but she was home...
for only 6 months...
6 months to clear out generations
from a house your father built...
she wanted to do it, but I think it hurt her spirit
to dismantle her life, bit by bit, day by day...until it was gone...

and too soon, so was she...I drove her from the ranch for the last time...
I heard her cry of anguish as her very soul was ripped away...
she had a room waiting at an assisted living place she knew and loved...
she had planned for this... and was as ready as a person can be...

but she didn't do as well as we had hoped...
she missed the ranch too much...the rhythm of the seasons...
at home, she kept records of rainfall, frosts and heat waves...
at the home in town, she complained that she couldn't see the sky...
and she was right, she couldn't...

Mom was the ranch... it was in her blood...
the separation was too much...
it sapped her of her source of strength,
the connection with the land and nature...

so I guess I'm not just homesick for the ranch,
and all the places and smells I remember...
but there is really nothing to be done for it...
it's no longer there...
but that's not the root of this...
I'll never be there
or with her again, and it hurts...
I guess I just miss my Mom...