If I Had 3 Minutes With My Mother

My mother died, suddenly, unexpectedly, in a car accident when I was twenty-three. And although that was many years ago, I still feel a little subdued on Mother's Day, her birthday, and the anniversary of her death. We had been very close.

Sometimes, what annoys me is that we had just gotten to the other side of my semi-rebellious teen/early adult years. She was barely beginning to see the person I would become, and she had started voicing her hopes for my "grown-up" life.

I don't believe in psychics, seers, or the visions of anyone wearing gold hoop earrings and a scarf on their head. But, when dead characters on LOST just suddenly pop up and disappear after a page or two of dialogue, it gets me thinking. If I had, say, three minutes of time with my mother now, what would I tell her? I mean, after I'd ask for a brief summary of the afterlife. I think it would be something like this:

*I followed your advice. I dated until I found the one I could love AND trust and married him. You'd like him. You'd approve.

*I'm a mother! We have a son and I'm pretty sure you would have spoiled him.

*Remember how you wondered who your birth mother was? Found her. Well, found your family...she had died the year before you did.

*So, I've visited one of your sweet sisters and spoken with the other one. You also have two living brothers. And wonderful cousins. Who knew?

*You know how you were a concert pianist, living and performing in Chicago? One of your sisters was a jazz singer and may have been singing several blocks away at Mr. Kelly's, the same nights you shared a stage with Arthur Rubinstein. The two of you were in very different circles, but both musical.

*The identity of your father? Still working on that one. I'll let you know.

*Yes, yes, I'm being more disciplined about my writing. Promise.

*You know what? I still miss you. And love you. Always.