Flood Lights: One Year Later

The end of May offers two milestones for me, one slight and one substantial, yet both unfortunate. This past May 19th would have been my 10th anniversary at Salem Communications, an experience that I looked back on in 2011 and 2015. I acknowledged the milestone by texting my old boss (see image below) and briefly looking back at the bullet that I dodged. I am still in regular contact with two other people from that office. Nearly everyone else can stay in the past.

My mother has been dead for one year. It has a mercurial, up and down year of transition for my sister and I, but we move forward. It seems oddly fitting that I would spend this somber anniversary in Omaha, Nebraska, where I found out my mother had passed. I take solace in the fact that I had fun at the improv festival, just as my mother would have wished during last year's trip. I reconnected with a high school friend, while establishing new professional relationships with other improvisers. My sister stayed at home, taking care of the garden that my mother used to spend countless hot afternoons. Even though she visited my mother's grave on Sunday, neither of us felt inclined to dwell.

My relationship with my mother could be contentious at times, but I think about her almost daily. I tried to be as supportive and considerate as possible in those last few years, but I bristled at times as she grew increasingly needy and fragile. Her love was unconditional and unwavering --as any mom should be-- even when it felt smothering and overprotective. Even though my mother was front and center with taking care of my grandmother, there were often instances in the last five years or so where my sister had to juggle Grandma and both of our ill parents. When mom passed last May 27th, it was like a weird burden had been taken off our shoulders. Her parting gift was letting my sister and I move on.

(589)

Next Week: my 13th annual fantasy Emmy ballot.