My Flight Log - A Little Late

As I sit in my window seat on a flight to London for one of my dearest friends weddings, I start to see the sun rise on the horizon. I was hoping the sun would be up so I could see Ireland as we flee over, but no such luck this time. Yesterday was St. Patricks Day, a day that was sacred in our house growing up. Although most people wouldn't have guessed it right off the bat my mom was 100% Irish. I think her grandmother came over during the famine. In hindsight, I wish I had named my dughter McKenna, after my great-grandmother. I love that name and I think it would suit my crazy little lady.

I had talked about making his trip for months before my mom died or before we knew she was even sick, so I hope hat where ever she is she knows I'm going. This trip is serving more than just one purpose. I get to see one of my best friends marry a man that makes her so happy ands that gives me so much joy it's hard to put into words. But this time also gives me a chance to be alone. This is be first time I'm away from my daughter since she was born. It's been a very long two years. And since my mom died I've been so focused on everything else around me - my dad, my sister, my job, my daughter - that I will finally be distraction free and a fable to grieve as much or as little as it want to.

I brought with me the pictures I gave the funeral home for her wake; they did this wonderful video of all the pictures we found. She looked so happy in pretty much all of them; one of my favorites was her with her friends back in the 50s in Coney Island. She had a drink in her hand. That was my mom.  I brought them because I haven't been able to get myself to look at them since and I think I need to. I tried once. That ended with me in tears after one or two pictures. I think looking at them, remembering her face ands some do the good times will be a catharsis for me, at least on some level. I need to remember her face, I can't forget what she looked like. When I got married in 1999, when my sister got married in 1998, when my daughter was born - these were all happy events and I want to remember her happy. I don't want to always remember how sick she was and her voice when she told he oncologist in the ER that she was afraid to be sick because she had a grand daughter that she had to be well for. That's not a memory I want in he forefront t of my brain anymore.