Sometimes You Forget

I want to say that the day that my mom died was the worst day of my life.

But I can’t say that.

August 25, 2001. I was on a camping trip with a bunch of friends. Before we got to the mountains, my sister and I forced our BFF to go see NSYNC at the IMAX. It was awesome. Not so much for her but we really didn’t care. Once we got to the hills and out of cell phone range, we went hiking. Built a huge camp fire. Roasted marshmallows. Drank a ton of beer. Sang “Free Bird” along with a pretty terrible guitar player. We went to bed happy.

The day my mom died was pretty awesome for me.

The next morning we drank camp fire coffee. We had a blast while horse back riding. When my sister rolled up her sleeping bag we all found out that she had been sleeping on a snake all night. It was hilarious. Not for my sister. But the rest of us got a good laugh out of it. We were all pretty bummed to pack up and head home. It was Sunday. Monday was the first day of school for all of us college kids and back to work for the majority of us who had jobs as well. Sunday was supposed to be easy.

When we got home we found our driveway full of relatives’ vehicles. “How nice!” we thought. They must be helping mom and dad finish the basement. FINALLY.

That was not why all of my relatives were there.

My mother had died the night before. A heart attack. According to the coroner, a freak, strange occurrence for a woman of only 46. All of the wrong things happened at all of the wrong times. All while she was relaxing, watching a Broncos pre-season football game.

The following Wednesday, the 29th of August, 2001, we had our memorial. Thousands of people showed up. We all said our goodbyes. Mostly.


 On Saturday (August 25, 2012) I was on my way to the Red Sox game in Boston. So excited to see my friends. So excited for our first baseline seats! The date scrolled across the Marquis at the station. I had forgotten what day it was. I sighed and didn’t mention it to my husband. We were on our way to have fun so I pushed it out of my mind.

On Wednesday I was busy  dream casting the movie for my favorite book of the summer when I had to double check my calendar. I had forgotten again what day it was.


Sometimes, when I forget, I feel like I am forgetting her. That I might someday forget the sound of her voice. Or the way that she smelled. Or that she would tell me to stop being a baby right now and then give me a hug. Forgetting is the worst thing for me. It makes me feel like a terrible person. Like a terrible daughter. My mother is someone who should always be remembered. I try to remind myself that she would want me to live my life and never dwell on the things that I cannot change.

But I do hope to change the part that is trying to forget.



Filed under Family, More Me, Sports

5 responses to “Sometimes You Forget

  1. Beautifully written post, may your mother RIP.

  2. BB, you’re not forgetting your Mom. I believe that she gives you that latitude, this space to grow and have your life. She is keeping an eye on you, like my Dear Grandma is. You’re not forgetting her, she is your angel.

  3. Kelly

    Love you soo much cousin!! Not to worry… Your mom could never be forgotten to anyone who ever knew her. Her laugh was the best sound in the world , all the better because it came so easily. You’re right- she would never have wanted you to do anything but live the best life you can every day. She would be so proud of the woman you have become and the life you have made for yourself. Don’t worry if you don’t remember a certain date… The best part of your Moms memory is what she gave all of us who remain… Not the day she left us.

  4. Oh girlie, I love you. And somewhere my dad is looking at this reading it feeling validated. (He chose St. Patrick’s Day because it was a holiday with a date that didn’t change, so we wouldn’t forget. But it was one that held no special meaning, so he wasn’t ruining it for us. Seriously. The stories I have about that man…)
    I know sometimes it seems like you are forgetting. But you aren’t. The details may get a little fuzzy, but the love never goes away. The memories – the ones that matter – are still there. She knows that. Do I remember every year? Yes. But only because my dad made sure of it. But it’s the other days. The moment I sit and watch Indiana Jones and remember going to see the third in the theater with him. Listening to songs he loved. Going to Disneyland. That’s where he still lives. Your mom lives in those memories with you.
    All the hugs, my dear.

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