What is the weight of something lost if you never had it to begin with?
Evie lives on Baby Boomer time: Fifty is the new
thirty—new marriage, a new business, a new life.
She’s living in the sweet spot, until she’s hit with the baby boomer’s nightmare: double parental implosion.
Why, friends and family ask, should she be there for parents who were never there for her?
The answer lies deep within Evie’s heart. If only
life had an Undo button, she could just start over.
She’s living in the sweet spot, until she’s hit with the baby boomer’s nightmare: double parental implosion.
Why, friends and family ask, should she be there for parents who were never there for her?
You
get a different perspective on the world, holding your mother’s ashes in a
box. They felt heavier than expected,
but light compared to the weight of trying to undo what can’t be undone.
We spent her last days knowing she wanted to go, spent her last hours preparing
us for it, spent our last moments cheek to cheek, the fragrance of her slowing breath
sweet as Mocha Polka lipstick on a crinkled hanky. I saw
her eyes blink, then shift upward, as if she saw the way home, but it wasn’t until
I stood before her jewelry armoire, holding her ashes in a box, that I
felt the empty space where my mother used to be.
She
taught me many things from that empty space.
The little things that can be undone, and big things that can’t. The trouble
is, in the moment, you can’t always tell which things will turn out to be
little and which will turn out to be big.
The Goddess of Undo is complete in 75,000 words.
Sur-Realicity: It's what I do.The Goddess of Undo is complete in 75,000 words.
