Wondering

I haven't felt much like writing lately. It happens.

This time's different, however. This time it isn't because nothing exciting has happened - plenty of things have happened this Summer. This time it isn't because I'm feeling ambivalent about life - lately I've been having pretty strong feelings about a variety of topics. It isn't because I haven't had the time - Facebook, and certain porn sites could attest to the amount of time I've spent online lately. This time is different.

When I started this blog I had 2 reasons. 1 was to write a blog, just write when I wanted to write and not worry about where it was going or what it meant. The 2nd reason, as I've stated before, was to communicate with family and friends on a semi-regular basis. I could update my blog and they could check in whenever convenient and read about what I was doing. It worked.

My best friend might comment on a funny observation I had made in my blog. My older brother might ask me about a comment I made in a post. My wife may come home, sign in and read about what her man had been doing all day when he should've been cleaning the house. My mother could and would religiously check up on her middle son and his exploits.

And that's why I haven't been writing, I think. Since my mother passed away I haven't really felt like blogging. I was tempted to write a few thoughts on death, Cancer, her Memorial Service, I even contemplated putting posting my eulogy from that service. I didn't do any of that. Not because I think it's cheesy. Not because I think it would cheapen the memories. No, but maybe because it didn't seem worth it if she couldn't read this anymore. She was my most avid reader. Mom supported most any creative project I could come up with.

When she was in the hospital this last time - before it got ugly, before the ICU - I went in to visit her 1 day. She'd been in for a couple days, the doctors were trying to find a way to help her with her breathing, and she was getting a little cabin fever. I brought her a copy of a short story that I had written for a contest recently. It wasn't anything special. I hadn't written it specifically to cheer her up, or to send a message to her or anything. She would often read my writings. Some she liked. Some she didn't like as much. Some she loved, and some she may have not gotten at all. If I handed her a stack of papers she would make time to read them. I don't know if she ever got a chance to read my last story. She went into ICU sometime the following night. She may not have had time, been able to focus, or even cared to read a silly story while laying in that bed. I'm sure she had other pressing matters, but part of me would like to believe that she had a chance to flip through the pages, that she read through the story and may have even chuckled at the ending. I'll never know if she read that story.

She'll never read any of my writings again, and that makes me sad beyond words. That is why I haven't been writing. My Mom would want me to continue. She would want me to keep updating my family, keep posting on my blog, and keep up with all of my creative projects. She would want me to write. So I will.