Listen to the song as you read the post…

Today marks the 7 year anniversary of my mother’s passing. If I don’t acknowledge this, I’ll get nothing done. I know that now. I’ve actually known it for years…

Anyway. My mother would have become a huge Decemberists Fan. How do I know this? By the time I moved out, after she had recovered from my dad’s passing and her own relapse, she wanted a copy of everything I had, “except for the Led Zepplin you listened to in High School.”

I left her with all the music I had, except the Zepplin.

Seven years later, I still do not know how to put everything I feel into words.  I can cry about it.  I can laugh at the stories she tried to tell (she wasn’t the story teller, my dad was).  I can think of how she would react to the life that I have made with Shannon (she’d be thrilled) and with how to make the world a better place (she’d be busier than ever).  Hell, I could even tell you what she’d be doing (taking the train to visit Tony and I for the Supper Club/Graduation Party we are throwing for my brother).  But ask me to describe how I feel, and the best I can do is blubber.

I don’t know if I’ll get around to doing another Judy post, but I can promise you, dear reader, that I’ll be thinking about her all day.  And if you ever knew her, I bet you’d think of her too.

If there is a heaven, this is what it looks like:

I like to think my dad is just off-screen, making irish coffee and mocking dead republicans.