The musings of an Out and Proud Foreign Service Officer
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Sixteen years ago today, the thing that continues to most profoundly affect my life happened.
I lost my mother.
A friend told me then that it never hurts less, it just hurts less often. Thanks for that, Joan. I have found it to be the truest thing ever said to me.
To lose a parent is to be made to feel like a lost toddler in a Department store. I still feel that way sometimes.
But mostly, I just feel this profound hole that nothing fills. I keep wanting to pick up the phone and call, wanting to tell her all of my adventures.
I do tell her, but it isn't the same.
The last time I spoke to my mother was on my birthday in 1996. She called me, like she did every year, at 1:26 am, the time of my birth. It was the one midnight call I got each year that never made my heart race thinking something was wrong. I grumbled each time I was roused from sleep, but I secretly loved it and I miss that call.
I wish my family had been the kind to make home movies so I could hear her voice again, see her again in something other than the still photographs, like the one above with my grandmother, great-grandmother, and a certain little baby dyke, that never quite capture her spirit.
I am lucky. I still have my dad and he is awesome. But I am jealous of people like my wife who have both of their parents.
So do me a favor. If you still have your parents, call them. Tell them you love them. Do it for me.
This blog is intended to give anyone who is interested some insight into life in the Foreign Service. The views expressed here are my own and do not necessarily reflect those of the U.S. State Department. But hopefully, I won't say anything that will even make you wonder.