It’s been four months today since my mom died.
There’s so much to freak out about it’s impossible to write it all down.
One strange fact I can’t let go of: Salem was about 4 1/2 months old when she lost her Nana, whom I know loved her the most. Salem is now almost 9 months old. I have taken comfort in the fact that Nana knew Salem for more than half of her tiny, short, just-beginning life. She loved her for 4 1/2 months.
Two weeks after my mom died, I could still stay that she knew Salem for most of her wild baby life. Two months after my mom died, I could still say that she knew Salem for more than half of her bold little life. But very soon, the math will turn around. 4 1/2 + 4 1/2 = 9. After Salem is 9 months old, my mom will have known her for less than half of her sweet, perfect life. As time goes on, the overlap between Salem’s life and my mom’s will become very, very tiny. A dot on the timeline of both of their lives.
My mom spent a little over two weeks, total, with Salem.
She held her when she was 8 days old:
She held her for a week at Christmas:
And she held her in March when we visited Cleveland over Spring Break:
I have maybe a hundred, or more, photos of my mom with Tyler. But this is all I have of my mom with Salem. Five photos. Five photos of my mom and my bitty baby who is her mini-me.
It’s the lips, and her smile. We see her Nana in her every day. Even Tyler calls it out when he sees her “Bonnieface.” I can’t believe my mom isn’t here to see her grow up. Tyler, either, but even at 2 1/2 she could have a conversation with him, play with him, read books with him. They say he won’t remember, but he might surprise us all. Salem doesn’t have a chance.
She has five photos.