Hello it's me....

Hello it's me.
I've thought about us for a long, long time.
Maybe I think too much but something's wrong
There's something here that doesn't last too long
Maybe I shouldn't think of you as mine.
...
I take for granted for you're always there...

Todd Rundgren said it correctly.  I took it for granted that my mom was always there.
She is physically, but mentally, she is not what I am used to...and even more, I can still scream and remember when she used to say to me...remember these times Lisa, and the times I cannot call you.

Her phone calls were some of the best of my life.  She called me when I was in college, only 9 blocks away in a small liberal arts college in the same town I was raised.  She called me just to remind me that she loved me.  Nothing was ever suffocating, or too much...she knew how to float the craft.

Her phone calls became more frequent once I left college, went south to Louisville, joined a weekly newspaper, and started life on my own terms.  My anchor, my strength, and my rock.

I left Louisville, joined the love of my life, and started life in Indy...ready to try new experiences, new avenues, and new places to travel with the woman I called Mom.

And we did...she and I, and she and I and my husband, and even, she and I and  my brother...England, France, Italy, all together for the shared moment and experience, and all because she wanted to share the inheritance she had from similarly loving parents.

Up until July 2010, I got those calls.  And then they dwindled down.

Dementia had entered the picture.  I would go to a certain spot, and remember something she and I did there.  A certain mention from someone brought a picture of a moment with my mom.  When shared, she did not remember it as I did. Or remember it at all.

Flatline.