I Miss Her

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• October 19, 2020

I spent this past weekend with my sister and her two little ones, Anthony (6) and Charlotte (2.5) as we adventured to Hershey Park. It concerned me a little, only because Charlotte is at that age where she loves to lick railings and such. Caring for children is basically just trying to keep a tiny human from all the danger they’re somehow drawn to. In her case, this is especially true as she likes to run off and you really can’t take your eyes off of her for a moment or she’ll be climbing onto something and you’ll be like, “how did she even get up there?” I guess being a little monkey drawn to heights runs in the family. Like, what’s up danger?

It was also my Mom’s birthday over the weekend. We FaceTimed her down in Florida while the kids were jumping on and off everything they could in the hotel room. It didn’t seem fair to get annoyed with them when I have memories of doing the same.

Lisa, my sister, had forgotten something in the car (this happened 5 or 6 times actually) and had to run from the hotel room to the parking lot. She leaves the room and soon after Charlotte goes, “where’s my Mom?”

“She just went to the car. She’ll be right back.”

Her lower lip gets shaky, with a whimper she goes, “I miss her!”

“She’s been gone literally 90 seconds and she’s going to be back in five minutes.”

“But I miss her!”

Charlotte then crawls onto my lap and hugs me, all melancholy, until Lisa returns (minutes later), “oh Mom, you’re back!” I don’t know what goes on in a toddlers mind, so I won’t pretend to. But I do remember what it’s like to miss your mom, horribly, even knowing you’ll see her soon.

As a kid I has some pretty vicious separation anxiety when it came to my Mom for reasons I’m not even really sure besides being sensitive, sweet and neurotic. I cried almost every day at the bus stop in Kindergarten and first grade. Back then, Kindergarten was half days. But in first grade, when I had a full day of school, I often cried midday… because I missed my Mom. It wasn’t a scene, I didn’t cry in hysterics. Instead, I’d quietly sob at my desk, not paying attention to anything at all just thinking about how sad I was and how much I wanted to go home. Sometimes, my teacher would hug me and seat me at her at her desk. Other times, they would put a chair outside the class room so I could “have a breather,” (hahaha) which I’m not sure was effective. I also had these ruby slippers like Dorothy, and I would tap the heals wishing to be home, but life didn’t work like the movies, no matter how much I wanted it.

So yes, as ridiculous as it is, I know what it’s like to long for and miss someone horribly even knowing you’re going to see them in a short while. It’s still funny to me, but only in a really cute way, when Charlotte gets all pouty like that.

My Mom and I have bonded with music through the years. In our house, there were always tunes throughout the halls and onto the deck in the backyard.

There are a great many songs that remind me of my Mom. Some of which are very sad. They are sad though in that very beautiful way that reminds you of love, both of giving and receiving it. That you are encompassed by it. And sometimes, it makes me cry. But sadness isn’t always bad. Sadness, like missing someone so much, is often a symptom of love.

Songs That Always Make Me Think Of My Mom That We Both Love:

“Do You Realize??” — The Flaming Lips
(Do you realize that happiness makes you cry?)

“Wish You Were Here” — Florence + The Machine
(And I never minded being on my own
Then something broke in me and I wanted to go home)

“In a Drawer” — Band of Horses
(A memory when you were young
Remembering a time long gone)

“Come Downstairs and Say Hello” — Guster
(Voices calling from a yellow road
To come downstairs and say hello)

“Picture Book” — The Kinks
(Picture book, pictures of your mama, taken by your papa a long time ago)

“Zombie” — The Cranberries
(In your head, in your head, they’re still fighting)

“Kid” — The Pretenders
(Kid what changed your mood
You’ve gone all sad so I feel sad too)

“Come Along” — Cosmo Sheldrake
(Come, come, come, come, come along now
Run away from the hum-drum
We’ll go to a place that is safe from
Greed, anger and boredom)

“See You Soon” — Jukebox The Ghost
(Wonder where you’ve been
Wonder where you are
Will I see you soon?)

Anything by ABBA, half the songs by The Beatles… the list can go on and on, really. Happy Birthday, Mom. As always, I can’t wait to see you. You’re the best.