One of my favorite things is a house full of family. I complain sometimes, about the work to clean up, and cook and then clean up again, but I'm just all talk. I love to have the people in my life over, talking, eating and just enjoying each other.
This is the first dinner I have hosted since my mother died. It's odd to see how everything just goes on without her. How everyone comes over and it's just the same as it always has been. Only nothing is the same.
There are some additions to our group now. My brother has a newborn baby. A sweet smelling little guy that falls asleep every time I touch him. My sister's boyfriend came along, with his 6 year old daughter. She jumped right in and had no problems running around and sword fighting with a bunch of rowdy boys.
We had a great time. But I saw her ghost in ever corner. On the couch, in the spot she sat in on her last ever Sunday dinner. At the kitchen table, eating her tacos all crunched up and with a fork. Leaning against the kitchen counter and chatting with me while I cooked. Playing with the boys.
I wonder if anyone besides me and my sister thought about her tonight. Thought about how she should have been laughing at the extreme amount of noise that the 4 big kids were making. Thought about how she should have been fighting for a turn to hold the baby. Thought about the fact that a very important part of our family is gone.
It's hard to feel like she is starting to be forgotten. I feel like the world should still be mourning. That we shouldn't be able to have a good time without her. That we should be miserable and sad. Which is ridiculous. We have to move on. We have to enjoy the good things that are happening in our lives. New family. New babies. Making sure that we continue to get together as a family. Watching kids grow. Watching each other grow. And learning to get by without her, one Sunday dinner at a time.
Wife, boy-mom, restaurant manager. Life is insane, and I kinda like it :-)
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