I was joking with someone recently about how long ago, if I did not know something or could not find the answer, GO ASK MOM. It was always that way when I was a kid. Doing homework or any question that came to mind. Don’t know something? GO ASK MOM!

Even if mom did not have the answer, there was always something satisfying about her referring me to a higher power of DAD. If dad did not know, there was the lesser power of … look it up in a BOOK. 

I recall when I first left home for a job in a sawmill. Extremely home sick I would call mom just to feel that the universe was still there and working ok. That the world was not going to fall apart because MOM was still there on the phone. 

Later, having got my first apartment, I did not know a damned thing about cooking. Who did I call? I called MOM, of course. The go-to expert on all things in this world even if she did not know the answer. Mom was smart but not very worldly. I fine wife to dad and mother to her children. She was a house wife and even though she had only a high school education, just being MOM made her seem omniscient. That to me is how mom’s are and how my mom was: You gave birth and thus you are all powerful! You can stare a kid into cringing silence or tickle them into screaming laughter! YOU ARE MOM THE ALL GREAT AND POWERFUL! BECAUSE YOU CAN DO THAT STUFF!

For many years I would call mom just to talk to her and get her feedback on things even though deep down and often near the surface I knew the answer. It was comforting to call mom and get her feedback. Tell her my drama and all the pure bullshit of my life. After talking to her I always felt I could LET myself face THE ANSWER inside. Often I felt like telling mom how wrong she was and at times she was but… there was a part of me that always felt there was SOMETHING in what mom said. Something very special. 

MOM was what was so special all the time. 

When mom was sick with cancer I still called her and asked her things but never asked any questions about mortality and death. It was something I wanted to run screaming.

Especially because it would have been about MOM and mom’s mortality was something I never wanted to face. 

Face it did when to me, she died suddenly after a long fight with cancer. Her death was “sudden” because to me she was supposed-to-be immortal. Always there. 

Mom has been gone a long time but it seems every day or so I itch for that old phone to call her with. Not that iPhone thing but the phone that was for a while a big bulky buzzing thing with an antenna and before that, a handle like thing with a mic and receiver. Big bulky and a stately thing to make those important calls seeking the answers to life from… MOM. 

At times I hear her but it isn’t questions with answers. It’s just small talk with mom listening so well as she always did. Nice to feel her still around… inside me.

But when I don’t have the answer … I often whisper the question inside to mom and it’s not important if she has an answer: It matters that no matter how young I was or old as I am, I still turn to her… listening… 

A LOVING listening…feeling her there inside me no matter where or when… in a way always there and more knowing and important than Google ever was. 

Sorry Google, you may have the answers but you ain’t no Mom!

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