So Mom what's new?

Today was surreal. Myself, three sisters, a nephew and two nieces visited Mom's grave together.
It is Memorial Day here in the States.
Dianne my youngest sister planted a big clump of violets. I had placed an urn with geraniums and white wave petunias yesterday. My sister contributed a yellow and orange rose and I also brought some lilacs from the tree at home.
A cacophony of color (my favorite)
Mom always said she could see us all at her grave talking about her. I never wanted to see it happened but it did today. . I SO fought the urge to buy a pink flamingo. . We used to joke that if she pissed me off I would put yellow plastic flowers on her grave. I would shout it at her and we would laugh. I saw some some at the store the other day and lost it.
I am amazed how private I am in my grief. I don't want to share. I don't want to talk about this horrible emptiness I feel.
I would rather talk about her sense of humor, and how she would make me laugh. She would say the funniest things , and sometimes not meaning to do it.
Sharing those things now seems as though I am making fun of her. So I will do a few at a time.

I miss her.

My band auditioned for X Factor months after she died. We went through 6 auditions and made it up to the live auditions on tv. Thank God we went no further. It is such a hysterical story. I will tell it someday. The girls all said it was Mom. All I wanted to do is share it with her. I guess I did anyway.

I am so open and humorous about so many things. I have a wicked acerbic sarcastic wit I have been told.
I wrote an email yesterday and it was totally confusing to the recipient. In speaking, I am animated and my speech holds no secret as to what I mean. The written word is a difficult forum for me to express myself. There are no hand gestures, no change of inflection. Some get it some don't.
Either way ask if it sounds strange. Ask me. I can explain.

I just came from lunch where we told funny stories about our lives, and laughed and fought back tears.
My sister Laurie had a pickle martini (like a dirty martini made with pickles instead) strange but decent.
In the end despite our differences and arguments, wildly different political views and temperaments.....we are there for each other.
My sisters......to them I toast. And thank my Mom for sending me these beautiful, quirky and loving women. Part of me, part of each other and part of her.
Thanks Mom.