After 33 years, I still miss my Mom (Aldine Marie Busch). She died on July 22, 1975.
Seldom does a day go by that I do not think of her. It has only been in recent years, that I have stopped myself from heading to the phone to call her when ‘important’ stuff has happened that I wanted to share with her.
We had a loving, close, relationship. We talked on the phone or saw each other every day. (Except when she was traveling, still, she would often phone me, to tell me what she had seen or done.)
Though there were many things we disagreed on, we LIKED each other.
Even after I married and had children, we spent time together. Once or twice a week we (just the two of us) would eat out, or go to a movie.
Or, she would come over after she got off work, and the three of us (hubby included, and often times, other family members) would play hearts or scrabble (both of which she was very good at and enjoyed), evenings filled with love and laughter.
My own children were only 8 and 6 years old when she passed, far too young to remember how wonderful their maternal grandmother was, how much she loved all of us, or to remember what a good relationship between a parent and adult child could be…
Seldom does a day go by that I do not think of her. It has only been in recent years, that I have stopped myself from heading to the phone to call her when ‘important’ stuff has happened that I wanted to share with her.
We had a loving, close, relationship. We talked on the phone or saw each other every day. (Except when she was traveling, still, she would often phone me, to tell me what she had seen or done.)
Though there were many things we disagreed on, we LIKED each other.
Even after I married and had children, we spent time together. Once or twice a week we (just the two of us) would eat out, or go to a movie.
Or, she would come over after she got off work, and the three of us (hubby included, and often times, other family members) would play hearts or scrabble (both of which she was very good at and enjoyed), evenings filled with love and laughter.
My own children were only 8 and 6 years old when she passed, far too young to remember how wonderful their maternal grandmother was, how much she loved all of us, or to remember what a good relationship between a parent and adult child could be…
