Confessions of a Mid-Life Orphan

I got the call that most mid-lifers dread.  "Holli, it's your brother.  Call me ASAP."  I could barely catch my breath before I rushed to call him back.

Two rings later, my brother picks up and says, "Mom's Gone." 
"O my God.  What do you mean she's gone?  I'll be out there tomorrow morning."

The week of my mother's graveside service moved at lightening speed as I scurried to make arrangements and contact  relatives and friends to tell them of the news.

Burying my mother was the worst thing I have ever had to do.  I cried every time I looked at her cherry red PT Cruiser in the driveway and felt out of sorts because I no longer had anyone older than I to depend on. I realized that I had become an orphan over night.  My mother was a stable force who offered encouragement when I was going through personal or job difficulties. She encouraged me to try to be an enlightened step parent and loaded me up with Italian food and homemade cookies that reminded me of the carefree days at home.

There would not be any more Sunday phone calls, Easter cards, or Utica-style halfmoon cookies.  The world felt like a lonely place my mother's raspy voice.  To help compensate for the loss, I grabbed my favorite recipes, hoping that I would be up to the task when the dust settled.  Unfortunately, it has been almost a year and I haven't made so much as a simple sugar cookie.

 Recommended Reading: Midlife Orphan by Jane Brooks