I found a place to put it...

I wrote this a few months back, right around the 9th anniversary of my mom's death.

Platitudes

I lived in a house with a mother who had lost her mother, who could sometimes be found at 2 am sitting in the dark and crying, brushing us away with "You can't understand."

And then I became a mother who lost her mother and I did.

And when I close my eyes I can still see her vanity; glowing strawberry blond and fixed firmly in place with half a can of aerosol hairspray, curls bouncing with each firm step as if the hairdo said everything.
When it sneaks up on me I remember how she cut it all off before chemo and I'm still not sure if it was fear or defiance.
The big C was a hollowing experience for each of us, taking something that nearly a decade later we can only barely grasp.

Except at 2 am, when I was taught to mourn.