I’ve thought about writing this for awhile. I’m not a complete person. There is a large gaping hole, where my adult relationship with my mother would have been developing. Not only do I fear that Norma now only lives in the memories of a shrinking number of people, I constantly imagine how she would be in the current world, what we would talk about, what she would think; who I would be if she were still here.
I was introduced to grief and funerals early. I would say they were certainly more common than any other family gatherings in my childhood. During first ones, like my uncle who died at the age of 15, I was too young to really feel them. I would watch how those around me would behave and I would try to mimic, all the while wondering why the crying wasn’t coming naturally to me. My grief for my mother hurts more than I think it should, twenty-four years later. I wish I could tell that nine year old Sundi, not to worry, the tears would come later. I feel this very vulnerable piece of me, that if touched, would gorge a mountain of tears. I want to understand that sadness a little better than I do now.
Readers – Who will they be?
This project is for me. I’m doing it here, because I write differently when I know that others could read it. For me, I feel more accountable. I also realize that there may be readers who knew my mother and who I might talk about as part of this project. Maybe they will want to add to this story, but for now I have decided that besides Norma, I won’t actually use any names. Instead, I will use relationships; older sister, father, younger brother, youngest brother, grandma, tia, tio, cousin.
Why Resurrecting Norma?
My mother’s name was Norma. I actually have no idea who or why she was named Norma. Her middle name was that of eldest women in her family, Marie. She died at the age of 47, after living with myasthenia gravis for 10 years. I was 18. I chose resurrecting, because she was religious, and so it felt appropriate both for that and for what I’m trying to do by telling her story and my story as related to her. Now what comes?
It is so amazing what you are doing to honor your mother’s memory she was a remarkable women that to this day l still miss so mich . All l had to do is call her & she had a way of making things so much better l remember before she passed we went to see her she told me my body is so tired l can’t fight this anymore She was so heartbroken that she couldn’t be there to help you pack your bags for college her middle name Maria is your grandmother Edwinas name she was Maria her middle name Edwina many more stories to come l have lots of stories to share Love Tia
Keep them coming, Tia! If you want to write any stories that I can post as guest posts, would love that as well. Just let me know. Do you know whether Norma came from someone else? I should probably ask Grandma.
I love that your diving into this ! Keep it coming ! My Tia was a powerful force that needs to be shared !
I love you cuz 😘
Thanks, cuz!
I will definitely follow my sisters resurrection
Thanks, Tia. Well said.
My beautiful and strong sister, Norma! I miss her so much! Will post more later! Love you, Sundi!
Thanks, Tia.
I love this, Sundi. Thank you for writing and for sharing (and already an answer… Maria, Edwina!) This is a beautiful, inspiring project. I lost my dad early too….and you’re so right about that gaping hole… do you know that Townes Van Zandt song– “To Live Is to Fly”? There’s a line in the song “We all got holes to fill/And them holes are all that’s real”– it’s a lovely poem and song if you don’t know it. Somehow a little healing even.
Yeah, I think I thought it would go away, but it doesn’t. I don’t know that song, but will certainly look it up. Thanks!
Thank you for sharing this with us, sister. You are such an honest and insightful storyteller. Amazing there is so much to say even 20+ years after she’s left us. I love you!
Thanks, older sister.
I’d love to hear/know more about Aunt Norma. Thanks for starting this. I talk about about my dad at least once a day, I find remembering the good, the bad, and the mundane to be cathartic and grounding.
Agreed. Now that my dad is gone too, we talk less about my mother because he was always the one bringing her up. But I think about them both daily. Writing is feeling very good so far.
I really really like this project, Sundi. My father died when I was 1.75 years old, 53.25 years ago now, and I’ve been writing and thinking and talking about it ever since. So what you’re doing and writing resonates with me.
Thanks, Laurie. Losing a parent is never easy and time certainly doesn’t make it all better. I probably waited far too long to actually write about it, but I’m finding that writing about it makes the talking about it easier.
Oh cousin I love this page it is so amazing to read about my Tia Norma! I love all the photos too! So glad you did this to honor such an amazing woman!
Thanks for reading cousin! Hope you and your family are doing well.