What Could Have Been. Wishful thinking

Putting it up in a bun was her idea. “Your hair won’t get in the way while you walk down the aisle”. I smiled, nodded and then when about to enter the chapel, I took it down, fluffed up my mop, stuck in a few flowers and began the stroll. Sitting in the front row when she saw me, her jaw dropped, gave me a hard stare but put on an awkward smile. A look that only a daughter would recognize. Wishful thinking. She never had the chance. I never got married.

“What a beautiful baby” she said with happy tears streaming down her face. As my son grew up, she spoiled him rotten, against my wishes. Saying “That’s what grandmas do”. The same with my sister’s daughter. Her advice, not always welcome, was heartfelt. Neither of us had children.

Pets, primarily dogs and Guinea pigs, were always important to us as children. I was shocked after I moved out that she adopted a little kitten, as she never liked cats. She fell in love with who she named Peanut and treated this little fur ball like a princess. She never had this little kittycat.

Traveling to exciting foreign places, including going on a Caribbean cruise, Europe and Turkey. meant so much to her. Always bring back little gifts and mementos. Sharing her adventures, showing off photos and encouraging me to experience the world. She never took these trips.

It is sometimes difficult talking to her about my weird and crazy job as a counsellor at a halfway house for men coming out of prison. “I am worried but proud of you” was a frequent statement. She was so relieved when I got a new job that was not quite as risky. She was not a part of my life when I worked there.

When diagnosed with breast cancer I asked her if there was family history - as this is always asked on medical intake forms. She said not with her side of the family. She was incredibly supportive and there for me through this difficult experience. I never had cancer.

Her face and body starting to show signs of age. Her brown hair turning grey. Walking and hiking, which she loved, became more challenging even using a walking stick. Exhibiting signs of memory loss and dementia. Her short-term memory was not so good, but she enjoyed reminiscing. Mostly about our lives together, raising me and my sister (especially when were such naughty girls). And how proud she was of us. Sharing stories about when she was young and in her twenties and thirties, like we were at the time. She wasn’t around during these decades of our lives.

And my three-month adventure in 1987 driving around the USA when I was 28. I loved getting her letters and making contact by phone. No emails or social media at that time. All letters ending with “I love you and wish for a safe return”. Although this trip I took was real, she didn’t know about it.

These times with my mom never existed in real life, only in my dreams. But my tears, anger and wishful thinking continue to be a part of who I am today years and years later. The cold reality happened when I was 22 years old and what follows is not imagined. It was a life-changing experience I will never never never forget. It still haunts me to this day. You don’t lose love, but yes, you can lose a loved one. Imagining and contemplating what could have been is real, which has formed the person who I am today, some good and some not-so-good,

December 19, 1983. A knock on the door from a coworker saying I need to pack a small overnight bag as my mother has been in a car accident. No further details. She will drive me. Two hours later we arrived at the hospital and pulled into the emergency room entrance. I rushed in and asked at the desk which room Kathleen Keller was in and that I knew she was in the critical care unit. The lady at the desk gave me a blank stare, and I repeated my question with a louder, more angry voice. I just wanted to see my mother. A man dressed in a brown leisure suit approached me, and in a soft voice, asked me to come with him. He escorted to a small dimly lit room. It wasn't until I turned straight toward him that I noticed the white band around his neck.

I sit on one of the sofas, and he sits on a chair next to me and leans forward to hold my trembling hands. “The doctors did all they could do, but your mother didn't make it. She died of injuries to the head”.

Memories, fantasies and longing continue over the years. She existed, but now only in my mind, heart and soul. It is only old photos that provide the reassurance that for 22 years of my life, she was really here. What could have been will never be known.

Pink Floyd sums it up.

How I wish, how I wish you were here

We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl

year after year

Running over the same old ground

What have you found?

The same old fears

Wish you were here.