Have A Seat.

This is the third of four pictures my sister and I shared at Mom's memorial lunch.  To read my blog you would think I am overtaken by this grief.  It's not like that.  I laugh.  I socialize.  I have fun.  I don't dwell on my loss.  But every day, multiple times during the day, I see or hear something that reminds me of my mother and I am deeply sad.  I miss her. 

This picture should be a familiar one to anybody who visited the Wade household.  It’s my parents in their kitchen, sitting across their kitchen table from each.  This picture seems ordinary enough at first glance but to me this picture represents the constancy of my family’s love and support.    As we went through pictures to share today we were struck at how many of them were taken in this room with one or both my parents at this table. How many times have I sat at the table with them?  Good times and bad.  Laughing, arguing and just living life. 

When Erica was a little baby I took her to visit my mother.  As I carried her in her cloth baby carrier from the car one of the handles slipped from my gloved hand and Erica tumbled to the ground.  I quickly picked her up.  She was screeching at me angrily and had some scratches on her face.  I panicked and did the only thing I could think to do.  I rushed her into the house, holding her in front of me with two outstretched arms, yelling for my mother to help.  There she was sitting at the table.  I held Erica out to her saying “Is she okay?” over and over again.  My mother calmly took her, checked her over and told me everything was fine.  Only then could I stop panicking.

Many stories have played out at this table.  For my mother the last was this past Monday when she  chose to leave the hospital and come home.  When she was carried into the house she demanded to be taken to her kitchen table.  She sat at her side of the table long into the night, surrounded by the love of her family.  Determined to do things on her terms.  Strong until the end.