Since I was two (well, with a brief Bob interlude that we do not discuss), I've been an only child of a single mother. Trust me, back in 1967 in Utah, we were bleeding edge. I used to spend some time with Dad (not a lot), more time with Grandma and Grandpa... my point is, there was always leaving (and coming back), and I was generally the one doing the going.
Then came my twenties and thirties - we lived together for a while, got to know each other as adults. I learned to truly like her as well as love her - I'm lucky enough to be able to consider my mom one of my best friends, and I know and appreciate how rare that is. At any rate, I would go visit her as often as we could manage - wherever she was, was home, but again, I'd always have to leave.
Now moving into my 40s - Mom started spending time at my house - at first it was just a couple of months each year, during the winter, but with the advent of Hank, she moved in to help me deal with cancer. At first, we were afraid it was going to be a "help me die with dignity", but since Hank has been a courtly guest, taking his own time about things, it's kind of evolved into a Persephone-like 6 months with me, 6 months in Utah. It's turned into her being the one who leaves.
Frankly, being the one left behind, sucks. I hug her, watch her go, then immediately get dropped back into my life without her - a quieter life, one with less projects, less conversation, less shopping, blander food, less puppies... well, less Mom. I'll get over it, readjust, get used to having more space - Moose has already gotten over it and is looking forward to being an only child again. But it's easier to transition when there's movement, and being the one left behind just sucks.
Guess I'll just have to look forward to November.
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