One of the most potent memories I have, of growing up with Mom & Dad, is how nothing seemed hidden from me. It didn’t matter how old I was either, they always included me in their discussions, their choices too.
Sitting back, right now, while Mom takes a rest on her bed, I can’t seem to get that out of my head, and yet, the tears well up today, because I honestly believe she is hiding something from me. Maybe not, but I think she knows what is happening to her, and rather than discuss it with me, she’s hiding it. WHY? I think to protect me, when truth is, I’d rather know.
Nothing every happened around our house, without the three of us discussing things. Sure when I was small, I just listened, but I was always a part of their world. When Dad had to go up to Slave Lake to the store, or Barrhead, we’d tag along too. Mind you, that was only if it was for the weekend. Otherwise Dad went alone, and I remember how the phone would ring at night, at he and Mom would talk, and that was when they’d been married a couple of decades.
And going with them, on those weekends, wasn’t about playing either. I helped in the stores, and I even remember making a nice sale to a local, who told Dad to butt out, when he came to see if he could help. Felt kind of good, but you know, the smile on his face, felt even better.
I miss those times, and I think Mom does too. I think she spends a lot of time missing Dad, and not talking about it. I wish she would.