A few days ago, as I walked down a street, I found a cell phone on the ground. Knowing how much my life depends on my phone nowadays – seeing as I no longer know hardly any phone numbers by heart – I immediately picked it up and decided to locate the owner.
What do you do when you find a cell phone? Call the one person who will know how to find the owner, even if they don’t have the phone: Their mother.
That got me thinking about all the physical evidence of my mother’s life that surrounds me, as if I’m pretending she’s still there. Some of it has been conscious, and some hasn’t.
I cannot delete my mother’s phone number from my phone. That’s just not an option. Deleting it almost feels like disrespect. A few weeks after my mom died, I actually upgraded my phone, and all the numbers were transferred into the new phone, so I do have my mom’s number saved on the new phone, but when I was setting the speed dial numbers, I consciously had to remind myself not to set her number.
Which means everyone on my speed dial list moved up a number.
Which means I kept calling the wrong people.
Which means I was constantly reminded that I had lost my mom.
My phone isn’t the only physical reminder of my mom’s absence that I’m unable to delete or alter. My parents share(d) an email address, and it has always been labeled “Mom” since she was really the one I would email, not my dad. (Oh, how I miss writing Mom with a capital M.)
Since my mom, the in-house Internet expert, is gone, my dad calls me when he needs something done (i.e. get him a hotel room in NYC) so when I email him, my mom’s email address comes up. But before it comes up, there is a weird thought process going on:
Do I start typing “Mom” to get the email address?
Do I start typing the first letters of the actual email address so I don’t have to type “Mom?” I still see my mom’s name when I type it that way.
Do I change the label of the contact from “Mom” to “Dad?” Cause that’s just disrespectful.
Should I just demand my dad get a new email address? (Kidding… not so much?)
And then there are other small examples. Like I had a new cleaning lady when my mom was sick, but she was still fully functional, that is, she wasn’t paralyzed yet, so I would let the cleaning lady in, and my mom would lock up when she left. So I have a little post-it on my fridge that has my phone number and my mom’s phone number.
I have a different cleaning lady now, who I trust with my key, but I just can’t bring myself to remove that post-it from my fridge.
Just like I can’t delete my mom’s number from my phone.
Just like I can’t change the contact label on her email address.
I just can’t delete her from my life that way, cause even if it’s just virtual “existance,” I guess virtual is better than nothing.
Crap, now I’m crying again.
September 17, 2009 at 12:05 pm
Very sad but well written.
I had a friend pass away six years ago and I couldn’t bring myself to remove her from my email. I had her entered as First Name, First Letter of last name. Now I have a new friend whose “from name” is that same format and it weirds me out.
September 17, 2009 at 12:32 pm
I can’t delete mom’s number from my phone either. 🙂
September 17, 2009 at 12:39 pm
only when I moved to Israel, 3 years after my dad died, did my phone not have his number in it, because I got a new one. For a good 3 years my mom also used the same email address with his name in it. It is difficult – it gets better with time.
September 17, 2009 at 12:43 pm
I just read one of your previous posts – I apologise for saying time makes things better. Sorry. And on further reflection, I think time makes things different, not necessarily better. You will never feel less sad that your mom is gone, nor would you want to, but you become more able to cope with that hurt. I also experienced a bit of a meltdown 6 months after my dad died – it was right about round when the denial wore off.
September 17, 2009 at 2:58 pm
It’s OK, don’t worry. And I agree, I think it’s just different, not better. Not sure I’m in denial, but maybe I am, a bit.
September 17, 2009 at 1:21 pm
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September 17, 2009 at 1:25 pm
Seems like you aren’t alone in that.
A friend of mine died a few days after Rosh Hashanah (many years ago when answering machines used tapes). I could never bring myself to erase her message but when I would listen to new messages I avoided hers so as not to cry. I never erased it and the tape is still around (in the boxes I told you about Saturday).
I still have this habit where I never erase anyones message until I talk to them or see them again.
…
P.S. weird to be reminded of this right before Rosh Hashanah
September 17, 2009 at 2:58 pm
Yeah, I’m devastated that I don’t have an SMS from her on my old phone. 😦
September 17, 2009 at 1:34 pm
why should you delete evidence that she lived from your life? YOU are the biggest piece of evidence that she lived, and she lives on in you. Eventually the pain will be less, I promise you. it will always hurt, but the slicing mauling unbelievable intense pain will ease up.
Hang in there and keep writing. Your words touch so many people.
September 17, 2009 at 2:59 pm
Thanks. 🙂
September 17, 2009 at 1:50 pm
Knowing you I know that some of the things written did not make you feel any better. You know I usually don’t comment because I suck in all that trying to cheer you up stuff (I think this is one of the reasons you love me), but I do hate the fact you’re crying again. Makes me feel crapy and in a very big urge to come and give you a hug. If you would have time for me this evening I will try to come and give you a real one. If not… Here’s a virtually hug from me.
I love you!
September 17, 2009 at 2:17 pm
I am crying along with you!!
September 17, 2009 at 2:59 pm
@Candy and @Tali – I’m not crying anymore, only when I wrote the post. Thanks 🙂
September 17, 2009 at 3:25 pm
You know, I still have Warren’s number on my cell phone. I had it transferred along with the other numbers onto my iPhone. (I got the iPhone last year…! Warren passed in 2005..). I have a text message from him that I kept forwarding to myself with each new phone, but I just realized that I didn’t forward to this phone. Whenever I send emails and go letter-by-letter, his email address pops up when I type in “W”. It’s a strange thing, like a virtual security blanket. I say, if it makes you feel better, keep it.
September 18, 2009 at 11:09 am
You will never delete your mother; in fact you will keep finding ways to bring her vividly into focus, as you do in this post and others. We have such a deep tradition about what the erasing of names means, it is hardly surprising that the idea of deleting her name is so traumatic for you, and almost seems like deleting her memory and her presence. It’s because of the very depth of your loss pulling against the depth of her embeddedness within your being that it seems like that.
And now of course, is the start of “Jewish time” of the Yomim Noraim when our thoughts and memories are so very close to those of our dearest ones whose lives are completed, and to those who, like my mother, hover between this life and one beyond the reach of those who love her.
However you spend it, may you be blessed with a good and sweet year, with health, parnassah, good deeds and the love of others; and may you and your family continue to be blessed with the memory of the wonderful mother about whom you’ve written with such love and tenderness.
September 25, 2009 at 11:31 pm
Thanks, Judy. Shana tova.
September 25, 2009 at 12:00 pm
T. I had a friend suicide several years ago, and for about a week after he was found, I couldn’t help but call his number hoping one day he would answer. He didn’t.
Mike
September 25, 2009 at 11:31 pm
I’m so sorry about your friend. And I know exactly how you felt.
September 28, 2009 at 5:47 am
I still have my mom’s number on my phone too although I never think of it much being there. Just don’t want to delete it. But I have deleted other things of hers like email, an old phone message etc. Doing so does help make you move forward some I think. At least for me.
November 23, 2009 at 7:36 pm
[…] We are the ones who are grieving on a daily basis. The ones who need to figure out where we go from here, what changes we need to make, such as the previously-mentioned deletion of phone numbers and email addresses. […]
December 2, 2009 at 5:15 pm
[…] We are the ones who are grieving on a daily basis. The ones who need to figure out where we go from here, what changes we need to make, such as the previously-mentioned deletion of phone numbers and email addresses. […]