The View from Here

I was so grateful to wake up in my own cozy bed this morning, Dan beside me, Marley between us, and Shiva snoozing on my chest, after being on a brief-but-fun recital tour with my best friend and duo partner. There truly is no place like home, no matter how fun the adventure is.

I checked Facebook (truly a time vampire addiction) and up popped a video memory of my mother standing at her walker dressed in pink, her silver hair coiffed just so as she danced to her favorite polka music. She smiled sweetly and told me how much she loved her polkas. When I was a kid, she’d play polkas and dance until I thought she’d pass out. She loved music so much, loved to dance and be silly. I instantly felt a deep pang of longing for her, my heart aching.

We got up and going a little later than usual for a Sunday. I am absolutely exhausted after driving in scary weather for the recital tour, playing three recitals in three days and giving masterclasses. This is all on top of an already full semester; a recital tour to London, performing on a colleague’s recital, teaching, school work…lots of wonderful stuff…but leaving very little time to recharge. My best friend was still with us, so we headed to the Original Pancake House for breakfast for one of those decadent meals that uses all of your MyFitnessPal calories in one fell swoop.

Toward the end of our meal, a family came in, including a silver-haired woman using a walker similar to my mom’s. Something about the woman’s smile and her face…It all struck a chord in my heart. I couldn’t stop thinking about her and missing my mother, my sweet Heavy D. The feelings only magnified after allowing myself to let my mind and heart go there; that place in some deep chamber of my heart where my grief hides in shadow, waiting. The echoes of grief washed over me and tears sprang to my eyes as we walked to the car.

It has been five years and two and a half months since Mom died. Most of the time I feel her with me so strongly and I smile in the light of her love. Every once-and-a-while, though, grief pays a visit and I feel her loss all over again, feel the irreparable tear in my heart. Those echoes are there to remind us of love and loss, always tied together. The inevitability of loss is worth the great gift of love, no matter the cost. But, oh…what I wouldn’t give to feel my mother’s arms around me once again.